Discover Romania’s Medieval Villages and Castles on a Bike

Bucharest was experiencing a warm afternoon in June. Rays of sun bounced off the glass of Romanian-produced rosé that I’d held up to clink above the table. Over a soundtrack of loud house music, Martha Butterfield, a vivacious 84-year-old with wispy silver hair, giggled naughtily and shouted, “Live your f@*#ing best life!” 

She wasn’t making a toast. She was reading a piece hanging on the wall in the Casa di David restaurant. These words would’ve been perfect for my weeklong bicycle adventure with Butterfield & RobinsonMartha Butterfield founded the company with her brother Sidney Robinson and husband George Butterfield. Joie de vivre has been B&R’s driving force since its early days in the 1960s planning bike trips from Vienna to Paris. 

George, 85 years old, is a pioneer in exploring less-known corners of the globe. Romania, with its Easter Egg-colored Saxon Villages, Gothic Castles, Medieval Citadels, and Forested Valleys is his newest obsession. Five-star accommodation is a feature of any B&R itinerary; in the past few years, the opening of properties like Bethlen Estates and Matca have allowed George to curate high-end trips there. 

I joined George and Martha along with 12 of their clients for a newly-created trip. We started in the vibrant capital and then explored wine country before ending in TransylvaniaIt is a mecca for cyclists. George added with a wink “Thanks for trusting in me.” “I’d follow you anywhere, George,” yelled Andy Gleeman, a B&R groupie on his 11th trip.

It’s not all long mileage and steep climbs—B&R journeys prioritize cultural immersion. We began our journey with a brief history lesson. After lunch, Raluca Şpiac, of the travel agency Beyond Dracula, gave our group a glimpse of the country’s Communist years, from 1948 to 1989. She took us to FerestroikaA private museum in an apartment that feels like a time machine from the 1980s. The pantry is sparsely stocked, with only a few monthly rations. In contrast, the mansion of Romania’s notorious final Communist rulers, Nicolae and Elena Ceaușescu, was the epitome of extravagance, with velvet- and silk-lined walls, a gilded bathroom, and a private cinema. 

“The Ceaușescu times were particularly traumatizing,” Şpiac said. But Communism made people very creative. The creativity of the people was on full display, from the avant-garde pieces at the Museum of Recent Art in Bucharest to the open fire cooking in Bucharest’s Soro Lume. George ranked the meal among the best of his life, and he’s traveled to 51 countries and owns a home in Burgundy, France. Palates don’t get more discerning.

George’s cycling jacket had “Never underestimate an old man on a bike” written across it. I spent most of the following day staring at this phrase as I pushed behind him. In this group of rugged B&R veterans, at 44, I was the youngest guest. On the rolling hills, covered with vineyards, of Dealu Mare – one of Romania’s premier wine regions – those in their 70s or 80s were able to pass me. Our 18-mile route led us to the tasting room of LacertA winery, where we learned about the country’s dark-skinned native grape, Fetească Neagră.

Grapevines gave way to the soaring peaks of the southern Carpathian Mountains as a van transferred us three hours northeast to Brașov, a medieval city in Transylvania. It has several historical monuments—most notably one of Romania’s largest Gothic buildings, the Black Church—but also modern cafés and bistros. We ate duck breast in One Soul dressed with a funky sauce made of pear, yuzu and pears. 

As we pedaled through the countryside, we saw bell-shaped haystacks, and well-preserved Saxon village. It felt as if we had traveled back in time to preindustrial days. In the Communist era, much of the country was left undeveloped. A slower pace allowed me to observe shepherds tending their flock, women fetching water from wells, and men steering horse-drawn carts. Ponies munched on grass by the roadside, and white storks nestled atop farmhouses. 

Transylvania has more than a dozen ethnicities. We passed people who spoke both Germanic dialects and Hungarian dialects. We would come across whitewashed Unitarian churches in one village, then towering Gothic or Romanesque Lutheran churches in the next. 

The village of Alma Vii was founded in 13th century. The restored fortified church, with its stone walls and surrounding fortifications, now houses the Center for Interpretation of Traditional Culture. Craftspeople made felt slippers, hats and mats from wool and corn husks. 

A local restaurant, Belalma Rural, had brought a farm-to-table feast to the center, and we dug into hearty plates of sautéed lentils with oven-baked eggplant and ricotta-like urdă cheese. Palincă, a fruit brandy served with every meal, flowed freely, and the group teased me—the “youngster”—when I abstained. “But this is the B&R way,” insisted Dick Balfour, one of the five lawyers in our group.

Even with 20 to 30 miles of cycling a day, I was still feeling the trip’s indulgences, so I’d committed to biking the optional 11 miles back to our hotel, Bethlen Estates, in the medieval village of Criș. We were told that the chef of the property would serve us a seven course dinner with updated Hungarian dishes, such as fermented cucumber with fresh peas, smoked trout with dill and served with a chilled cucumber gazpacho. I had intended to be hungry. 

Bethlen Estates was the ancestral home of Count Miklós Bethlen, who passed away in 2001. Since then his widow, Countess Gladys Bethlen, has meticulously renovated the property, with ambitions to make it Romania’s most luxurious place for guests. I’d say she succeeded—not a detail was missed, from the fresh-cut flowers in my bedroom, which was warmed by a traditional tiled stove, to the handmade ceramics in the dining room.

Székely Land, where we spent our final two days, is an area in the eastern Carpathians where many ethnic Hungarians live. We felt as though we’d crossed a cultural border. At our hotel, Zabola Estate, a fairy-tale property in Zăbala owned by a Hungarian noble family, the staff spoke Hungarian, and we dined on dishes like goulash and kürtőskalács, a spit-cooked, sugar-dusted pastry we hadn’t been served anywhere else. 

After an afternoon of riding, I decided to take a cold plunge and sauna at Zabola. At sunset I found our group drinking plum wine on the terrace. palincă. After a visit with George and Martha I came away convinced that the key to living a happy life was simple: good wine and food, friends and a beautiful view. 

A version of this story first appeared in the July 2025 issue of Travel + Leisure Joy Ride.”