Forget Dracula. This Is the Romania I Wish More People Knew.

When I tell people abroad that I live in Romania, I still get some wonderfully predictable reactions.

Transylvania. Dracula. Castles. Sometimes Bucharest. And sometimes, simply: “I've never been. What's Romania actually like?”

I always find that question surprisingly difficult to answer. Because the Romania I know cannot really be explained through one castle, one city or one photograph. It is a country of contrasts.

You can have coffee in a busy, increasingly cosmopolitan Bucharest in the morning and, a few hours later, find yourself driving through mountains or arriving in a village where life seems to move at a completely different pace. You can find medieval towns and contemporary restaurants, centuries-old traditions and a young generation building businesses and working with the rest of the world. You can spend one holiday driving some of Europe's most spectacular mountain roads and another moving slowly through the Danube Delta by boat.

Romania isn't one experience. And perhaps that is exactly what makes it interesting.

Come for Dracula. Stay for Transylvania.

Let's start with the obvious one. Dracula has probably done more for Romania's international recognition than any tourism campaign ever could. I don't mind. If a vampire gets you here, we'll take it. But I hope you don't stop at the legend.

Because the real Transylvania is considerably more interesting.

There is Brașov, surrounded by mountains, with its old centre and streets that invite you to walk rather than rush.

There is Sibiu, one of those cities where I can happily spend an afternoon doing very little except walking, stopping for coffee and looking around.

There are medieval towns, fortified churches and villages scattered across a landscape that can sometimes feel surprisingly untouched.

And then there are the roads. The Transfăgărășan is the famous one, climbing dramatically through the Carpathians. It is the kind of road that reminds you that sometimes getting somewhere is not the point.

The road itself is the experience.

But if you come to Romania only to photograph a castle and leave, you will have seen very little of what Transylvania, and Romania, actually is.

Some places here still move at a different speed

One of the things I think visitors from abroad find most interesting about Romania is something we, as Romanians, can easily stop noticing.

There are still places where traditions are simply part of everyday life. Not reconstructed for visitors. Not created as an Instagram backdrop. Just there. Go north towards Maramureș or Bucovina and the rhythm changes.

You find wooden houses and gates, monasteries, crafts, local food, traditions and communities where continuity still matters.

I wouldn't romanticise it. Rural life is not a postcard, and Romania's villages have their own challenges. But there is something increasingly rare there.

A sense that not everything has been standardised yet.

In a world where the same shops, hotels and restaurants can make cities thousands of kilometers apart feel strangely similar, places with a strong identity become more valuable. Romania still has many of them.

And then there is a Romania made almost entirely of water

Travel from the Carpathians towards the east and you can arrive in a completely different country without ever crossing a border. The Danube has travelled through much of Europe by the time it reaches Romania.

Here, before meeting the Black Sea, it creates the Danube Delta. And everything slows down.

Water. Reeds. Birds. Boats. Fishing communities. Long horizons.

The Delta isn't really a place I would recommend rushing through with a checklist. It works better when you stop trying to accomplish things.

Take a boat early in the morning. Watch the landscape. Eat local fish. Listen. Stay long enough to notice how much is happening in a place that initially appears very quiet.

For someone arriving from a large, busy city, that can be a surprisingly powerful experience.

Sometimes the attraction is not what there is to do. It is how differently you begin to feel when you stop doing so much.

You should probably come hungry

There is another way to understand Romania. Sit down at a table.

Romanian food isn't particularly interested in minimalism. We have soups and ciorbe, sarmale, mămăligă, local cheeses, grilled meats, cozonac, papanași and countless regional variations that Romanians can debate with impressive seriousness.

But food here isn't only about what is on the plate. It is also about hospitality.

If you visit someone's home, particularly outside the large cities, there is a reasonable chance you will be offered food. Then more food. Then something else because apparently you haven't eaten enough.

And just when you believe the meal is over, someone may say: “Mai ia,” meaning “Have some more.”

Refusing successfully can require negotiation skills. I am only partly joking.

Food is one of the ways Romanians welcome people. And some of the meals you remember most may not be in the restaurants you researched before arriving. They may be the ones you didn't plan at all.

Bucharest doesn't try very hard to be perfect

Then there is my capital. Bucharest is difficult to summarise, and perhaps that is why I like it.

It is elegant and chaotic. Beautiful and occasionally frustrating.

Belle Époque buildings can sit surprisingly close to communist architecture. A quiet street of old houses can lead into intense traffic. New restaurants, cafés, galleries and businesses coexist with visible layers of a complicated history.

Bucharest isn't Vienna. It isn't Paris. And I don't think we should try to sell it by pretending that it is.

Bucharest is Bucharest. It has energy.

It has contradictions. It has excellent places hidden behind buildings you might otherwise walk past. And it rewards curiosity.

Don't only look at the obvious landmarks. Walk. Turn onto smaller streets. Sit at a café. Go into a park. Talk to people.

The city becomes much more interesting when you stop expecting it to behave like another European capital.

The Romania I would show you isn't only a place

Of course, I am not an objective observer. I live here. This is home.

I know the things that frustrate us as well as the things we love. And Romanians are very good at criticising Romania. Ask us what doesn't work and you may want to make yourself comfortable. We have opinions.

But something interesting happens when someone from abroad becomes genuinely curious about our country. Suddenly, the same Romanian who has spent twenty minutes explaining everything that is wrong with Romania will tell you that you absolutely must visit Maramureș. And Sibiu. And Brașov. And the Delta. And Bucovina. And the mountains. And perhaps Oradea. And definitely that little restaurant that tourists don't know about.

We complain about Romania. But we also want you to see the best of it. I find that contradiction rather Romanian too.

If you come, don't try to see everything

Romania is larger and more diverse than many first-time visitors expect. So I wouldn't try to turn it into a race.

Choose a region. Drive if you can. Stop when something looks interesting. Eat somewhere local. Talk to people. Leave some space in the itinerary. Take the road that wasn't originally in the plan.

Because some of the best experiences here aren't necessarily the famous ones. They are the guesthouse someone recommended. The village you stopped in unexpectedly. The view that made you pull over. The conversation you weren't planning to have. The meal that lasted much longer than expected.

Romania still leaves room for discovery. And I think that is becoming a luxury in itself.

No, Romania isn't perfect

I wouldn't want to write about my country as if it were a tourism advertisement. It isn't.

We have infrastructure that can test your patience. We have inequalities. We have beautiful buildings that deserve better care. We have things we need to improve and opportunities we haven't used well enough.

But I don't think a country has to be perfect to be worth discovering. Sometimes perfection is actually rather forgettable. What matters is whether a place makes you feel something. And Romania can.

Mountains and sea. Medieval towns and a restless capital. Villages and technology. Tradition and reinvention. Noise and extraordinary silence. Old Europe and a country still deciding what it wants to become next.

All of these things coexist here. Sometimes comfortably. Sometimes not. But perhaps that's part of the story too.

So, yes. Come for Dracula if you want.

Take the photograph. Visit the castle. Enjoy the story. But then keep going.

Drive through the Carpathians. Walk through Sibiu. Spend a morning in a Transylvanian village. Go north. Eat something you've never heard of. Take a boat into the Danube Delta. Get lost in Bucharest for an afternoon. Ask a Romanian where you should go next. You may receive a much longer answer than you expected.

Because there is another Romania beyond the one that first appears in travel brochures. It isn't always polished. It isn't always predictable. And that is precisely why I think it is worth discovering.

If Dracula is all you know about Romania, that's perfectly fine.

Let him be the introduction. Just don't let him be the whole story.

If you came to Romania tomorrow, what would you want to discover first?

The mountains? Transylvania? Bucharest? The Danube Delta? The food? Or somewhere most visitors haven't discovered yet?

I live in Romania and usually write about leadership, organizations, people and growth. From time to time, I also write about the country I call home. If you'd like to discover more, you can subscribe to my AVALW page and follow the next story.