March 15, 2024 • 63 mins
Dare you uncover the secrets that haunt the ethereal landscapes of Transylvania? Join me, Jeremy Haig, as we traverse the hallowed ground of the Hoia-Baciu Forest, where legend has it a shepherd and his beloved succumbed to a fate as twisted as the woodland's gnarled trees. Together, we'll probe the depths of Romania's most enchanting and terrifying tales, from the timeless allure of vampires to the supernatural phenomena that challenge our perception of reality.
Step into a realm where ancient witchcraft and spectral Strigoi lurk around every corner, seamlessly woven into the fabric of Romanian life. This episode isn't just about ghost stories; it's an homage to a culture where the arcane pulses through the veins of the living. As we dissect these living traditions and firsthand accounts, you'll feel the weight of centuries-old wisdom and the chilling touch of entities that transcend the barrier between the past and present.
Our journey culminates with an expedition into the enigmatic heart of the Hoia-Baciu Forest. Here, we confront the inexplicable—a clearing devoid of life, UFO sightings that defy explanation, and apparitions that flicker just beyond sight. Beyond mere speculation, we consider the power of these mysteries to captivate our collective imagination, urging us to question what lies beyond the known.
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Episode Transcript
Available transcripts are automatically generated. Complete accuracy is not guaranteed.
Speaker 1 (00:01):
Oh, echo, echo, echo, echo, echo.
Speaker 2 (00:35):
Once upon a time, in the heart of Transylvania, there
lived a shepherd.
Youthful with the allure of thebold, he dreamed dreams as
boundless as the heavens.
His heart, however, was notfree to soar the skies, for it
was tethered to a maiden whosebeauty could make the morning
(00:57):
blush with envy.
Yet their love was entwinedwith thorns, forbidden by her
father, who declared such aunion against his wishes.
One fateful day, as theshepherd kept watch over his
flock on a solitary hill, adistressing cry shattered the
morning stillness.
(01:18):
Convinced his sheep were injeopardy, he ventured into the
shadowed woods, a realm rumouredby elders to be cursed.
Within, the trees writhed as inagony, echoing the sorrow of
restless spirits.
Deeper, he wandered into thegloom, where sunlight feared to
(01:40):
tread, and there the airthickened with whispers of
ancient tales.
Time ebbed away, leaving notrace of the shepherd or his two
hundred sheep.
They had been devoured by theforest.
Voracious hunger for souls.
The maiden, upon learning ofher lover's doom, was engulfed
(02:03):
by despair so profound it dimmedthe stars.
The world without him was avoid she could not bear.
Driven by her sorrow, shereturned to the cursed forest,
to the darkness that had claimedher heart.
Beneath a twisted tree, sheembraced her end, her life
(02:25):
forfeit to the forest's shadows.
Yet in death, her journey wasnot concluded.
The lorekeepers of Romania,wise in ancient secrets,
murmured that her spirit wasreborn as a sargoi, a creature
of vengeance cursed to roam theforest, they say.
(02:46):
A sargoi finds no rest untilits mortal remains are unearthed
and destroyed, liberating thesoul to eternity.
This is the legacy of Hoibachu,a forest that guards its
secrets with a fierce, darkhunger, a place where love
stories become ghost tales andthe line between the living and
(03:10):
the dead blurs into oblivion.
Welcome to the tale of HoibachuForest.
I'm Jeremy Hegg, and this iswhen Walls Can Talk.
Throughout the ages, man hasrepeated the same earnest,
(04:11):
saying more of a question,really, or perhaps even a plea
if these walls could talk.
But what if they do, and alwayshave?
Perhaps their stories, memoriesand messages are all around us.
If only we would take themoment to listen.
On this podcast, wereinvestigate legends and tales
(04:33):
of the past and allow the echoesof their lessons to live on
once again, informing us,educating us and sharing new and
unique insight into the innerworkings of the paranormal and
spiritual world.
Will you dare to listen?
This is when Walls Can Talk thepodcast.
(05:21):
Pennsylvania sits at the heartof Romania, cloaked not just in
dense fog but also in the kindof allure that could only be
described as vampiricallymagnetic.
It's a land that seems to havesprung straight out of a tragic
vampire novel or classic monstertale, complete with castles
perched on hilltops to foreststhat whisper secrets and chant
(05:44):
in the dark of the night.
Known to many through the lensof Bram Stoker's Dracula,
transylvania insists on beingmore than just the birthplace of
a legendary vampire.
Beyond its vampiric fame, it'sa region of breathtaking beauty,
from the imposing CarpathianMountains, which have been
(06:04):
standing guard like stern butslightly inattentive sentinels
for millennia, to the deep, darkforest that could give anyone
second thoughts about whatgetting back into nature really
means.
The history of Transylvania isas layered as a particularly
complex onion, with each peelrepresenting its time under
(06:25):
Roman, hungarian, saxon andOttoman influence, to name just
a few.
This has resulted in a culturalmelange that could either be
described as a historian's dreamor a nightmare, depending on
one's affinity for keeping trackof empire handovers.
The region's medieval townsBreznov, sibiu and Klujnipoca
(06:48):
are time capsules ofTransylvania's rich past,
boasting gothic churches thatcould make you feel slightly
guilty about any personalindiscretions and baroque
palaces that are opulent enoughto make anyone consider a career
change into medievalarchitecture.
The area is dotted with some ofEurope's most well-preserved
medieval fortifications, builtby communities who apparently
(07:12):
believed very strongly in themotto if you want peace, prepare
for war.
Or perhaps just had anexcessive number of bricks on
hand.
But let's not forgetTransylvania's darker, more
mysterious side, which involvesless about historical battles
and more about the battles withthe unknown Boke.
(07:32):
Tales of mythical creatures likevampires, storkoi, werewolves
and witches are so ingrained inthe culture that you might begin
to wonder if there's a localschool offering courses in
advanced broom flying orpractical bloodsucking 101.
These stories aren't just talestold to scare children into
(07:56):
believing.
They're celebrated withfestivals and rituals that just
add a certain Genesequa to thenightlife.
And then there's the HoibachuForest, the Bermuda Triangle of
Romania, a place where the linebetween this world and the next
might be just thin enough totrip over, known for its
(08:18):
paranormal phenomena, mysteriousdisappearances and the kind of
unexplained activities thatwould make even the most
skeptical among us ask wait,what happened?
Hoibachu is like a particularlycomplex James Wan film.
No matter how much we think weknow, there's always room for a
little mystery or at the veryleast for getting thoroughly
(08:41):
lost in the woods.
Transylvania in Romania oftenemerges in the popular
imagination cloaked and missed,with Dracula leading the welcome
party.
Yet to reduce this vibrantregion to merely a land of
vampires would be like callingthe Grand Canyon a particularly
nice ditch.
It's not wrong, but it missesthe grandeur of the story
(09:04):
entirely.
Historically, transylvania hasbeen the bell of the ball, with
a plethora of names on itscalling card, with the Romans,
hungarians, saxons and Ottomansall taking a turn on the dance
floor.
This wasn't just a politeRegency-era two-step, but a
series of conquests, settlementsand cultural exchanges that
(09:27):
would take a self-proclaimedconspiracy theorist to sort it
all out, or at least a riotouslyunhinged Mori Povic episode.
Each of these powers left theirmark on the land, from the
Roman ruins that dot thelandscape to the Baroque cities
that look like they've beenplucked from a fairytale.
The region's strategic locationa lush valley ringed by the
(09:50):
imposing Carpathian Mountainsmade it a coveted prize.
The desirability wasn't justabout good views though
admittedly, the vistas arebeyond perfect but about control
over the trade routes thatthreaded through the mountains.
Archaeological digs in the areahave unearthed settlements that
date back to the Neolithic Age,suggesting that humans have
(10:13):
found Transylvania to be primereal estate for millennia.
These early inhabitants didn'tleave much in the way of written
records, but the tools andremnants of their lives hint at
a community that thrived herelong before the castles were
built and the legends of thesupernatural took root.
Speaking of supernatural,transylvania's folklore is a
(10:35):
thick stew of myths, legends anda pinch of historical facts for
flavor.
The region's stories reflectits history of invasions and
conflicts, where tales ofsturgoi, vampires and werewolves
likely served as metaphors forthe fear of the unknown and the
dangers lurking beyond thesafety of the village walls.
(10:56):
The folklore is a broad swathof cultures and beliefs, from
the drachian worship of natureto the imported myths of the
medieval settlers.
Today, transylvania is avibrant region that embraces its
past while looking to thefuture.
Its cities, like Cluj-Napocaand Brasov, are bustling hubs of
(11:19):
culture and education, wherecenturies-old architecture meets
modern nightlife.
The region's rural areaspreserve traditional ways of
life, with horse-drawn cartssharing roads with cars and
age-old farming practicescoexisting with modern
agriculture.
To visit Transylvania is to stepinto a storybook, where every
(11:43):
castle has a history, everyforest might hide a secret and
the past is always just beneaththe surface.
It's a land where history, mythand nature intertwine, offering
visitors a rich tapestry ofexperiences that go far beyond
the cliches.
So while you might come seekingDracula, you'll stay for the
(12:07):
mesmerizing beauty, the warmthof its people and the layers of
history waiting to be discovered.
This is not just a land ofmyths and folklore, but also a
vibrant cultural melting potwhere diverse ethnic groups have
woven their traditions into avibrant living existence.
This harmonious yet complexblend of cultures, including
(12:31):
Romanians, hungarians, saxonsand Roma, has contributed
significantly to Transylvania'ssupernatural lore.
The threads of folklore arewoven with a flare that suggests
the locals might have had a bittoo much fun scaring each other
over the centuries.
It's a place where the linebetween the living and the
dearly departed is as blurry asmy vision might be after a long
(12:53):
night pondering over the localplum brandy.
The Romanians.
With a love for storytellingthat rivals my own passion for
wandering into places, Iprobably shouldn't have
populated their lore with a hostof characters that make the
usual ghost stories sound likebedtime tales for the
particularly brave Sturgoi.
(13:14):
The local variety of vampiresand Moroi spirits of those who
just can't seem to let go,suggest that Romanians have a
particularly intenserelationship with the afterlife,
peppered with a healthy dose offear for the unknown.
It's as if they decided thatlife was so interesting.
Death ought to be acontinuation, albeit with more
(13:37):
floating and less walking.
Enter the Hungarians, stage leftwith their tales of the Taltos.
Shaman-like figures withsupernatural powers Live in
Transylvania's history as acultural crossroads.
It's no surprise that Hungarianlegends have mingled with
Romanian ones, creating a sharedfolklore that's as rich as the
(13:59):
region's history.
It's a bit like a supernaturalexchange program, where each
culture contributes its mostintriguing myths to the
collective imagination.
Not to be outdone, the Saxonsthrew in their lot with stories
of haunted castles and ghostlyknights, perhaps inspired by the
very architecture theyintroduced to the region.
(14:20):
Their fortified churches andimposing castles aren't just
feats of medieval engineering.
They're the perfect settingsfor tales of things that go bump
in the night, proving that goodreal estate is as important in
folklore as it is in life.
And let's not forget the Roma,whose nomadic lifestyle and rich
(14:40):
oral tradition have added yetanother layer of depth to
Transylvania's supernatural lore.
Their stories, brimming withmagic, fortune telling and
curses, speak of a deepconnection to nature and the
spiritual world, offering aperspective that enriches the
region's folklore even further.
(15:19):
In Romanian folklore,traditional beliefs about the
soul and what lies beyond havesculpted a unique perspective on
paranormal phenomena.
It's as if Romanians, facedwith the mysteries of existence,
decided not to just embrace theenigma but to throw a
full-blown party for it,inviting vampires, spirits and
(15:41):
all manner of supernaturalguests.
At the heart of these beliefslies the concept of the soul, a
sort of cosmic hitchhiker thatdoesn't quite depart this world
upon death.
Instead, it lingers, perhapsout of sheer stubbornness, or
maybe just to keep an eye on theliving, ensuring they're
properly mourning, or maybe justto eavesdrop on what's being
(16:04):
said about them.
The enduring presence of thesoul speaks to a deeply
ingrained belief in an afterlifethat's not just a continuation
of existence but a parallelreality where the dead keep busy
, presumably pondering themysteries of the universe, or
perhaps just watching over theirdescendants with a mix of pride
(16:25):
and consternation.
This mix of beliefs naturallylends itself to a heightened
perception of paranormalphenomena.
In Romania, a creaking door or asudden chill isn't just
dismissed as the house settlingor the weather turning.
It might very well be AuntMaria just checking in from the
(16:46):
other side.
It's a perspective that turnsthe paranormal into something
almost mundane, a part ofeveryday life.
Oh, that's just the strugoifrom next door, one might say,
with the same nonchalance ascommenting on the weather.
These traditions, with theirblend of reverence and
pragmatism, offer a window intothe Romanian soul, itself
(17:10):
Resilient, complex and alwaysready to find purpose in the
face of the unknown.
It's a world where thesupernatural rubs shoulders with
the living, not always inharmony, but certainly with a
degree of familiarity thatsuggests an ongoing dialogue
between the worlds of the livingand the dead.
After all, in Romania, theafterlife might just be the most
(17:34):
lively place of all In thisworld.
Witchcraft and divination aren'tjust practices from dusty old
books, but living traditionsthat pulse in the heart of those
who believe and practice themdeeply, much like myself.
Here in Romania, these arts areas much a part of their
heritage as the rich tapestry oftheir history, from the ancient
(17:58):
drachy and priests divining thewill of the gods to the wise
women of medieval villagescasting spells for love, health
and protection.
Witchcraft in Romania reflectsthe resilience of its people.
It draws from a well ofknowledge that predates the
Roman conquest, through thetumultuous centuries under the
(18:20):
dominion of the Austro-HungarianEmpire and into the present day
.
It's a blend of the ancient andthe modern, where spells might
be cast with the same fervor asa prayer in a church.
As someone who also walks thispath, I can tell you that to
practice witchcraft anddivination in Romania must be to
(18:41):
engage in a deep dialogue withher history.
It's to stand in a forestclearing under the full moon,
feeling the whispers of thedrachy and mystics who once
worshipped Zalmoxis, their godof the underworld, and to seek
guidance from the same celestialbodies that guided our
ancestors through these verylands.
It's to craft a love potionfrom herbs that a Saxon healer
(19:05):
might have used, invoking thesame spirits that might have
been known to Romanians forcenturies.
Divination the art of seeingbeyond the veil, is practiced
with reverence for the tools andsymbols passed down through
generations.
Whether it's reading the futurein the patterns of thrown bones
, interpreting the messageshidden in a deck of tarot cards
(19:29):
or gazing into the depths of acrystal ball, each act as a link
in a chain that connects us toour past.
It's an acknowledgement that,while empires have come and gone
, the land and its spiritsremain whispering their secrets
to those willing to listen.
From this perspective,witchcraft and divination are
(19:49):
not just curiosities but vitalthreads in the fabric of
Romanian culture.
They are practices that honourthe complexity of human
existence, acknowledged thatthere are forces at work beyond
what we can see and touch.
As a practitioner, I too am aguardian of these traditions, a
bridge between the old ways andthe new world, dedicated to
(20:13):
keeping the ancient wisdom alivefor future generations.
Diving into the heart ofRomanian folklore from the cozy
(20:34):
confines of my study laptop atthe ready and a cup of tea
within reach allows for anexploration of the country's
rich supernatural landscapewithout the slightest risk of
encountering a stray werewolf orgetting lost in an
interdimensional portal.
It's here, amidst the digitalpages of folklore and legend,
that the tales of the Stracoi,iele Moroi, pricolici and
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Domovoi come to life, weavingtheir mysteries through the
dense foliage of the HoivacuForest.
First we encounter the Stracoi,feared entities that stalk the
boundaries between life anddeath.
The Stracoi, in essence, orwhat you might call Romania's
answer to the more gardenvariety vampire found in western
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lore, but with a twist thatcould only come from a land as
steeped in mystery and magic asRomania.
These beings are thought to betroubled spirits of the dead
rising from their graves, butnot just any dead they're
usually those who've had a bitof a rough go in life or death,
as it were, leaving behind atangled web of unresolved issues
(21:44):
that apparently not even deathcan untie.
Originating from ancientDrakian and Roman mythology,
where the boundaries between theliving and the dead were more
like suggestions than actualbarriers, stracoi are said to
return to the world of theliving with some unfinished
business.
As for their characteristics,well, let's just say you
(22:05):
wouldn't want to meet one on adark night.
They're known for theirshape-shifting abilities, their
pensions for draining thevitality of the living and,
interestingly, their aversion togarlic.
Yes, it does seem that somestereotypes hold true, even in
the realm of the supernatural.
It's a creature that looks likeit could have once been your
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neighbor, except now it has thepallor of someone who spent too
much time underground.
Because well, it has.
The Stracoi are not yourHollywood-style vampires with
impeccable style and broodinggood looks.
They're more the type to chillthe blood rather than charm it
out of you.
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Encountering a Stracoi would belike stumbling upon a walking
talking embodiment of all yourmidnight fears, on a night that
is perhaps as dark as a witch'scupboard.
Perhaps you're minding your ownbusiness when suddenly there's
a chill in the air, a feelingthat you're not alone.
You turn and find yourself faceto face with a being that's
(23:10):
both familiar and utterly alien.
Its eyes, deep and unsettling,seem to pierce right through you
, seeing not just who you arebut who you've been.
Their appearance is a ghastlysight, with a skin that relates
its time in the grave andmovements that flirt with the
(23:30):
unnatural.
They might be dressed inoutdated garb, a ghostly fashion
statement from an era best leftforgotten, adding to their out
of time and out of place aura.
The Stracoi's countenance is amirror to their tumultuous
existence, marked by theunresolved passions and
grievances of their past life.
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To encounter a Stracoi is toexperience a cocktail of fear,
fascination and a sudden urge toreconsider your stance on the
supernatural.
It's the kind of meeting thatwould leave you with a story
you're not quite sure youbelieve yourself, a tale to be
whispered at gatherings when thelights are low and the night is
ripe with mysteries.
(24:12):
It's a brush with the unknownthat might just make you keep
your garlic on the nightstand,just in case.
The cultural significance of theStracoi and Romanian beliefs
about death and life is profound.
They represent the fear of theunknown, the anxiety of
unfinished business and thedeep-rooted belief that death
(24:34):
might not be the end of yourtroubles.
It's a reminder, perhaps, tosettle our debts and make peace
with our enemies before weshuffle off this mortal coil or
risk coming back as a verydisgruntled spirit.
To ward off these night-walkingnuisances, romanians have
historically turned to a varietyof rituals and protections.
(24:54):
Garlic, of course, is a staplein any self-respecting Stracoi
deterrent kit.
But for those looking for a bitmore assurance, hawthorne
steaks and the removal of theheart from the body of the
deceased from which itoriginates were also recommended
practices.
It's a bit more hands-on thansimply hanging garlic by your
(25:15):
window, but when dealing withthe undead it's always best to
cover your bases.
(25:47):
Stepping away from the more,shall we say, gravely serious
aspects of Romanian folklore,let's venture into the woods,
figuratively speaking, to meetthe Iele.
These entities are the forestspirits of Romania, and they're
as whimsical as they arebeautiful, embodying the very
essence of Caprice.
Think of them as the guardiansof ancient lands, but with the
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temperament of a cat that'sdecided.
It's not quite sure whether itwants to be petted or left
utterly alone.
The Iele are often depicted aswild, untamed forces of nature,
which is a polite way of sayingthey do what they want when they
want.
They're known for their sacreddances and enchanting music
which, much like the latest pophit, can get stuck in your head
(26:33):
in a way that's both magical andslightly maddening.
Encountering the Iele is akinto stumbling upon a rave in the
middle of the forest, where themusic seeps into your very soul.
You're not sure if you'llemerge with profound
supernatural insight or just areally odd story for your
friends.
(26:54):
Described in folklore asstunningly beautiful, the Iele
are not just forest spirits.
They're the life of the partyin the natural world, flitting
through the trees with anelegance that would make even
the most graceful ballet dancergreen with envy.
But it's not all fun and games.
These spirits can bless orcurse humans, depending on their
(27:16):
whims.
It's a bit like receiving agift from someone who doesn't
quite follow the social contract, leaving you to wonder whether
you're about to open a box ofchocolates or a can of worms.
Imagine wandering through theancient forests of Romania, the
moon casting shadows through thetrees, when the sound of
ethereal music wafts through theair.
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Drawn by the melody, you findyourself face to face with the
Iele, their dance mesmerizingtheir beauty otherworldly.
It's a moment of pureenchantment, a brush with a wild
heart of nature itself.
The moroi are fascinatingcreatures too, another unique
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variant of ghosts that tread thefine line between life and the
afterlife, drawing energy fromthe living while haunting the
Romanian countryside Withcharacteristics as varied as the
stories themselves, thesebeings embody the fear and
fascination with death thatpervades Romanian folklore.
They often share the same stagewith Sregoi and Pricolici and
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other nocturnal entities with apenchant for the darkness.
Then there's the Pricolici, acharacter that manages to be
both a werewolf and a vampire, asort of buy one, get one free.
In the supernatural world, thePricolici is like the ultimate
shapeshifter, capable ofmingling in society as an
(28:42):
ordinary human or lurking in theshadows as an animal, though it
seems to have a particularfondness for its wolf form.
Much like its folklore cousin,the Sregoi, the Pricolici is
what you might call an undeadoverachiever, dying from the
grave with a singular purpose tomake life decidedly unpleasant
for the living.
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The Sregoi, with its human-likequalities, might throw you off
with its anthropomorphic charm,but the Pricolici is more
straightforward, always dawningits wolfish guise.
It's said that in life, andindeed after, those of a
particularly malicious andviolent disposition are
earmarked to become Pricolici,continuing their reign of terror
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post-mortem with a supernaturalflair.
The lure doesn't stop there.
It twists and turns, suggestingthat pregaleci are werewolves
in life, who then clock in asvampires in the afterlife,
showcasing an impressiveversatility in the monster realm
.
This duality gives rise totales of vampires with a
(29:49):
penchant for animalimpersonations wolves, dogs,
owls, bats, all united withtheir shared hobby of nocturnal
hunting.
Just forward to modern times,and the legend of the pregaleci
isn't just a tale to scarechildren into behaving.
In the more remote corners ofRomania, whispers of encounters
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with abnormally large and silentwolves persist even today,
attacks that leave the localswhispering about the pregaleci.
And then there's my personalfavorite, a creature as
beguiling as it is troublesomethe Zuborader, or the flying
thing, which sounds more like aname concocted after witnessing
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one too many unidentified flyingobjects after a long night at
the pub.
This vampiric entity, somewhatakin to an incubus, is the
supernatural heartthrob ofancient tales, combining the
allure of a dark, mysteriousstranger with the flight
capabilities of your averagesuperhero.
Pilled as a winged andstrikingly handsome young man
(30:57):
with eyes and hair as dark asthe night from which he emerges,
the Zuborader has a penchantfor dramatic entrances,
streaking across the sky like ashooting star.
His nocturnal visits to youngmaidens sound like the plot of a
particularly steamy novel,where he engages in amorous
activities while simultaneouslyengaging in a bit of life force
(31:20):
and tiltering, leaving hisparamours not just breathless
but also rather worse for wear.
Although I can't promise, ifone crossed my path I'd be
turning him down either,although I'm sure I would not be
his type.
You know, as much as I fancymyself a rational, level-headed
sort of person, there's a tiny,slightly irrational part of me
(31:43):
that can help but feel a smidgeaffronted at the thought of
being overlooked by asupernatural nightcrawler like
the Zuborader.
The notion that a mythicalbeing who, mind you, specializes
in moonlit flybys and energypilfering, might not find me up
to snuff is frankly a bit of aninsult.
But here I am potentiallygetting my metaphysical knickers
(32:06):
in a twist over the prospect ofnot catching the eye of
Transylvania's most eligiblebachelor from the spectral realm
.
It's like being ghosted beforeyou were even ghosted by an
actual ghost, or close enough.
I guess what I'm saying is, ifyou ever find yourself fretting
about your appeal to theotherworldly, just remember you
(32:27):
are in good, albeit slightlybaffled, company.
And how does one fend off thisamorous airborne energy thief.
For the rare few of you who,albeit responsibly, might want
to, the solution is disarminglysimple A clove of garlic on the
window sill.
It's almost anticlimactic thatsuch a dashing figure of the
(32:50):
night could be thwarted bysomething that's also a key
ingredient in a decent spaghettisauce.
Yet there lies the charm offolklore, a world where the
fanciful and the mundane collidein the most unexpected of ways,
leaving behind stories thatterrify, tantalize and tickle
the imagination in equal measure.
(33:11):
These tales, set against thebackdrop of the Hoibachu Forest,
suggest that the forest itselfmight be a nexus of such
supernatural activity and a homefor many, if not all, of these
entities.
The connections between theseentities and Hoibachu highlight
the forest's role in Romania'ssupernatural landscape.
(33:33):
It's a living legend, a placewhere the echoes of past lives
mingle with the energies of theEarth, creating a tapestry of
tales that challenge ourunderstanding of the world.
But yet there's one morecreature of folklore that lurks,
as enigmatic as she isformidable Mumma padori.
(33:55):
Often depicted as an embodimentof the Force's wildest and most
untamed aspects, she couldeasily be mistaken for the
Woodlands' disgruntled caretaker, if not for her penchant for
mischief.
In mayhem, she's oftendescribed as an old, rather
unsightly witch whose realestate portfolio exclusively
(34:16):
comprises of the deepest,darkest recesses of the forest.
She's not just anothercharacter in the woods.
She is the spirit and theguardian, the proverbial old
lady yelling at those who dareto harm her grain of bone or
flout its sacred laws.
Mumma padori's skillset wouldput most to shame, boasting
(34:39):
abilities that range fromshape-shifting to controlling
natural elements.
Her nature is as complex as theforest itself.
Sometimes she's the malevolentforce lurking behind every twig
snap, and at others she's theprotective spirit embodying the
raw, fierce love for her domain.
She's not just dealing withpesky trespassers, but also
(35:04):
engaging with other supernaturalentities in a dance as old as
the forest itself.
These stories often paint her asthe staunch defender of the
Force's secrets, a punisher ofhuman greed and a reminder of
the respect and reverence thatnature commands.
Her cultural significancecannot be overstated.
(35:26):
Mumma padori in many waysrepresents the Romanian ethos of
respecting and fearing thenatural world, a relationship
built on the understanding ofthe delicate balance that
sustains life.
The moral lessons woven intoher tales serve as stark
reminders.
The forest gives, but it canalso take, especially from those
(35:50):
who take too much, withoutgiving back when it comes to the
mysterious andparanormal-charged landscape of
Hoibachu Forest.
One can help but speculateabout the presence of Mumma
Padori or entities like her.
Could her energy be whatcharges the forest with such a
palpable sense of otherworldliness?
(36:11):
It's as if the very air inHoibachu vibrates with stories.
Each tree whispering tales ofold, each shadow a reflection of
the Force's ancient andunyielding power.
In this supernatural theatre,mumma Padori could very well be
the director orchestrating theeerie symphony that makes
(36:32):
Hoibachu a place of endlessfascination.
Nestled to the north of therather optimistically named Long
Valley, or Vallea Lunga, if youprefer, the local dialect, lies
a spot known as Gura Baciului,or Shepard's Mouth, a name that
conjures up images of pastoraltranquility rather than of
(36:56):
unsolved mysteries.
Yet here lies the oldestNeolithic settlement in Romania,
a place that archaeologists,with their travels and
indefinable curiosity, haveprodded and poked from 1960 to
1994.
We've unearthed a veritabletreasure trove of tombs and
houses.
But let's be honest, it's notthe ancient floor plans or
(37:19):
shards of pottery that causeconcern.
It's the legends, the sort thatmake you question the wisdom of
night-time strolls inunfamiliar woods.
Take, for example, the tale ofa shepherd who, along with his
flock of sheep, wandered intothe dark depths and simply
vanished.
It's a story that might makeone reconsider the career
(37:40):
viability of shepherding,especially in areas prone to
consuming their inhabitants.
And he's not alone.
Over a millennium has passed andit's said that more than a
thousand souls have disappearedinto the ether, lending the
place a certain notoriety thatthe local tourism board probably
doesn't advertise.
One of the most chillingaccounts involves a
(38:03):
five-year-old girl who wanderedinto the woods, presumably
deciding that a solo expeditionwas a good idea or perhaps more
likely, chasing a particularlyoblivious butterfly.
Despite the best efforts ofwhat one hopes were competent
rescue teams, she left no trace,that is until she strolled back
(38:23):
out five years later, stillclad in her day of disappearance
attire, which was miraculouslyan impeccable condition.
Her memory of the interveningyears was non-existent.
One can only imagine her firstdinner back.
So anything new happened whileI was out.
Then there are the five otherswho weren't quite so lucky,
(38:47):
turning up eventually, but notin the way one hopes.
Their returns were posthumous,with conclusions drawn that
they'd all met their ends bytheir own hands.
And if you're looking for thefirst clue that you've wandered
into a place more twilight zonethan pastoral paradise, tick a
gander at the trees Instead ofreaching for the sky in the
(39:10):
traditional tree-like manner.
Many of them appear to haveheard a different calling,
opting for a posture more akinto a bow or a dramatic stage
lean.
It's as though they're engagedin a silent dance with an
invisible partner, one whosechoreography leans heavily
towards the avant-garde.
It's the botanical equivalentof a crowded house party, where
(39:32):
seven or eight trunks sproutfrom the same roots, as if they
couldn't bear the thought ofgrowing up and moving out.
Researchers, scratching theirheads in bewilderment, have
noted that these woodencontortions and multiplications
occur abruptly within blink oryou'll miss it timeframes
defying any logical explanations.
It seems even the trees inHoibachu are in a rush, although
(39:56):
it's unclear where exactlythey're trying to go.
Venture further northwest andyou'll stumble upon the forest's
pièce de resistance, poyanaRotunda or the round meadow.
This almost perfectly circularclearing is where vegetation
apparently decided to throw inthe towel, originating more than
(40:17):
two centuries ago.
This botanical bald spot hasleft scientists scratching their
heads, as soil analysis aftersoil analysis has failed to
reveal why nothing much growsthere.
It's as if the ground itselfdecided to keep a secret,
stubbornly refusing to spill thebeans to nosy researchers with
their fancy equipment.
(40:39):
The curious case of HoibachuForest truly kicked off in 1953,
when Alexander Sift, abiologist with an apparent
penchant for mystery or perhapsa shortage of hobbies stumbled
upon a phenomenon that wouldmake the most stoic of
scientists raise an eyebrow.
Enthralled by the local lore,sift began frequenting the
(40:59):
forest, only to find himself ina game of shadow tag with
entities that, frankly, weren'ttoo keen on playing by the rules
.
Sift, ever the diligentscientist, attempted to capture
these elusive shadows on film, atask that proved as
straightforward as explainingquantum physics to a cat.
However, upon developing thephotos, he found himself staring
(41:23):
at not just shadows, butstrange objects and silhouettes
that seemed to have photo-bombedhis shots, despite his
certainty that they hadn't beenthere at the time.
This unexpected cameoappearance suggested that the
mystery enveloping Hoibachumight be tied to phenomena
involving light and magnetism,or perhaps to photogenic spirits
(41:44):
with a flair for the dramatic.
But the forest flirtation withinternational stardom didn't
truly ignite until August 18th1968.
Emil Barnier, a 45-year-oldmilitary technician and
apparently the only person inRomania with a camera, was
enjoying a Sunday in the forestwith his girlfriend and two
(42:06):
friends as they prepared for acozy fire.
His friend's urgent call drewhim back to the round meadow,
where he was greeted by thesight of a large, round silver
object performing a silentballet in the sky.
With the presence of mind thatonly a true military man or an
avid photographer could muster,barnier managed to snap a few
(42:28):
shots of the UFO as it flashed,twisted and then made a rather
dramatic exit into the sky.
Despite the ever-watchful eyeof communist censorship, these
photos managed to escape Romania, embarking on an international
tour courtesy of the NationalPress Agency.
For long, the images weregracing the pages of paranormal
(42:51):
literature, worldwidescrutinized by experts from
Europe to the United States, allof whom agreed on their
authenticity.
The photos weren't justremarkable for their clarity but
for the tantalizing detailsthey captured, making a
compelling case for Hoibachu asa hotspot for UFO enthusiasts
and conspiracy theorists alike.
(43:14):
In 1994, amidst the solemnbackdrop of Emil Barnier's
passing, kalin Turcu, a namethat carries considerable weight
in the Romanian ufology circles, shares a captivating piece of
correspondence penned by afriend of the late military
technician.
The letter told a tale asintriguing as any episode of the
(43:35):
X-Files, revealing that Barnierhad been spirited away by
mysterious figures to the hallsof the Central Committee of the
Communist Party.
There, under the watchful gazeof the securitate officers,
barnier was relieved of hisfilms and the original
photographs under the pretenseof a temporary loan.
Needless to say, the promisedreturn was about as likely as
(43:57):
finding a parking spot right infront of your destination, a
thing that simply never happened.
Meanwhile, alexandra C,undeterred by the
cloak-and-dagger anticssurrounding Barnier's evidence,
continued his own quest tounravel the enigma of Hoibachu,
amassing an astonishingcollection of over 25,000 films
(44:17):
that captured the etherealpresence of structures invisible
to the mere mortal eye.
In 1974, c's path crossed withProfessor Ajam Petrus, a fellow
enthusiast of the paranormal.
Sadly, following C's death in1993, much of his life's work
vanished into thin air, courtesyof some less than ethereal
(44:40):
visitors to his old home.
These strangers that broke inmade off with the documents
ensuring their swift destructionin what can only be described
as a real-life plot twist.
Despite this dramatic loss, theresidue of evidence left behind
was sufficient to furrow browsand scribble question marks in
the margins of the conventionalunderstanding of the universe.
(45:03):
Professor Petrus remains astaunch advocate for the
scientific underpinnings ofthese bizarre occurrences,
insisting that there must be arational explanation.
Lurking just beyond our grasp,the skies above Hoibachu have
played host to a veritable airshow of UFOs, captured by the
(45:23):
keen lenses of numerouswitnesses.
These sightings range fromfiery orbs to geometrically
pleasing pyramids, proving thateven extraterrestrial visitors
have a flair for diversity.
The force reputation forcloaking UFOs from the visible
spectrum, only to reveal themupon the development of
(45:43):
photographs, adds yet anotherpuzzle.
It's as if Hoibachu itself is acosmic darkroom, developing
snapshots of the unknown andleaving us all pondering what
lies beyond the frame.
In the vast encyclopedia ofpeculiarities that is Hoibachu
Forest, there exists a categorythat might make you question
(46:05):
your next selfie bioforms.
These entities, which bear astriking resemblance to humans
and animals, could easily blendinto a family reunion photo, if
not for the minor detail thatthey're sometimes invisible to
the naked eye.
Often, they assume the guise ofsomeone who's left a
significant imprint on theobserver, be it Ott Milda or
(46:27):
that pet hamster from thirdgrade.
Adrian Petrus, a man who's seenmore than his fair share of
Hoibachu's wonders, recounts astrange sequence of events.
In January 1975, on a brisk dayperfect for uncovering
mysteries or, at the very least,getting a little bit of
exercise, Petrus accompanied aband of intrepid friends who
(46:49):
stumbled upon mysterious ruins.
Snap, snap, snap went theircameras capturing the moment for
posterity, or so they thought.
Two weeks later, still ridingthe high of their discovery,
petrus returned only to find theruins had pulled a disappearing
act worthy of Houdini.
Over time, these structuresdidn't just vanish from the land
(47:14):
, they faded from thephotographs as well, as if they
were never more than a figmentof collective imagination.
And then there was that winterday when Petrus and a group of
travellers observed a series offootprints in the snow, marking
a path that suddenly ceased, asif the walkers had been abruptly
teleported to places unknown.
(47:35):
It's the sort of occurrencethat makes one consider the
practicality of snowshoes, notfor traversing snow but for
avoiding unexpectedinterdimensional travel.
The silence in Hoibachu isanything but golden.
It's more a cacophony of soundsthat could give a Hollywood
sound effects team a run fortheir money.
(47:55):
Witnesses traipsing through thewoods have reported an auditory
smorgasbord, the wail ofambulance sirens echoing off the
trees, the ticking of clocks,the pop of exploding tires and
an assortment of quick, strangescreams or giggles that might
make you think the forest ishaving a bit more fun than you
(48:16):
are.
And then there's the curiouscase of vanishing battery life.
Venture into Hoibachu with afully charged electronic device
and you might find it as drainedas if it had run a marathon,
prompting speculation that theforest has a bit of an energy
drinking problem.
It's as though the very airsiphons power, leaving your
gadgets as lifeless as adiscarded banana peel.
(48:40):
As for the fauna of Hoibachu, itseems the forest didn't get the
memo on regional biodiversity.
Adrian Petruc and his team,during their explorations,
encountered a cast of animalcharacters straight out of a
fantasy novel.
Take, for instance, theirrun-in with a bustered, a bird
teetering on the brink ofextinction, which apparently
(49:01):
decided to flout geographicalnorms and take a stroll through
Hoibachu.
Then there was the appearanceof a large cat bearing an
uncanny resemblance to a leopard.
Now, last time anyone checked,leopards weren't native to the
area, suggesting Hoibachu mightbe bending the rules of zoology
or hosting a secret animalconvention.
(49:23):
Hoibachu Forest, with itsso-called active areas, seems
less like a walk in the park andmore like a stroll through a
particularly temperamentalminefield.
These zones, rumored byenthusiasts to be portals to
other dimensions, have a way ofleaving their mark, quite
literally, on those who traversethem.
Burn marks, scratches, anunquenchable thirst and not for
(49:48):
knowledge, vouts of anxiety andeven unexpected naps, also known
as blackouts, are just a fewsouvenirs you might bring back
with you.
During one paranormal incursion, an investigator got a
first-hand demonstration ofHoibachu's hospitality when they
were unexpectedly thrown to theground by hands unseen,
suggesting that whatever residesin the forest might not be the
(50:13):
biggest fan of visitors.
Andrei Dorobonstev, a professorand physicist who presumably
enjoys delving into theunexplained when not grappling
with the laws of physics, hasshared extraordinary tales.
He recounts a journey by agroup of paranormal aficionados
into the heart of Bachu, a tripthat took a turn for the surreal
(50:35):
when their photographs revealedfaces distorted to the point of
having multiple heads.
Whether this was a trick of thelight or a trick of the forest
remains a topic of debate.
The forest's penchant fortheatrics extends to
unsuspecting television crewsand drivers.
In one incident, a driverslammed on the brakes, convinced
(50:56):
he had hit an elderly lady whoappeared from the ether.
Despite a thorough searchwithin a one-kilometer radius,
no trace was found of themysterious figure, leaving
everyone to wonder if Hoibachuhad momentarily turned into a
pedestrian crossing for thespectral.
And then there are those whoventure in for what they assume
will be a brief exploration,only to emerge to the surprise
(51:20):
of search parties that had beenorganized in their absence.
Time, it seems, has a differentmeaning in Hoibachu, where a
short walk can turn into aninadvertent game of hide and
seek with concerned locals.
In 2009, the web was a buzz witha tale that sounded like it was
straight out of a campfirestory session.
(51:41):
A group of intrepid soulsdecided to spend three nights in
the embrace of the woods,presumably because the allure of
a comfy bed and indoor plumbingjust didn't cut it.
On their first day, while onexpedition to fetch water from a
creek a task that alreadysounds like the beginning of
every horror movie ever theyencountered an old man.
(52:02):
He limped amongst the trees,projecting a vibe that screamed
I'm about to be a centralcharacter in your story.
His deep blue eyes held a gazethat could only be described as
unsettlingly intense, making thegroup of travelers pause.
Politeness prevailed and theygreeted him, assuming he'd
(52:23):
emerged from a nearby sheepfold.
Perhaps tired of the sheep'scompany, the old man, in a scene
that lacked only a fog machineto complete the eerie atmosphere
, inquired about the route toCluj-Napoca.
His lack of baggage was notable.
The travelers, ever helpful,directed him to follow a
(52:44):
tire-tracked path, a route sostraightforward even Hansel and
Gretel could manage it.
He thanked them with the air ofsomeone who's just been told
the Wi-Fi password and limpedaway.
Upon returning to their camp,the group discovered that their
friends hadn't seen anymysterious limping visitors,
even one that would have had tohave crossed the clearing in
(53:04):
order to make it back to town.
A search ensued, but the oldman had vanished.
Perhaps deciding Cluj wasn'tfor him after all.
Now one might chalk this up topure fiction, a tale spun from
the threads of an overactiveimagination, yet it stands as a
quintessential example of theunexplained phenomena that seem
(53:26):
to revel in catching us offguard, especially in settings
already ripe for mystery.
It's little wonder the BBC oncedubbed Hoibachu as the world's
most haunted forest.
With stories like these, it'sas if the forest itself delights
in maintaining its trip-advisorrating as the go-to destination
for those looking to add a dashof supernatural intrigue to
(53:48):
their outdoor adventures, as thelocals call it, when they're
feeling particularly mystical.
The Costco of interdimensionalgateways is rumoured to be a
hotspot for astral travelers,souls on a 40-day layover after
death and entities that didn'tquite make the cut for our
dimension Spiritualist waxpoetic about the forest being a
(54:10):
cosmic revolving door betweenthe astral plain and our more
pedestrian earthly realm,suggesting it's where souls of
the dearly departed hang out,presumably because the afterlife
lacks decent waiting rooms.
Skeptics, on the other hand,lean back in their armchairs,
stroking their chins, anddeclare it all a splendid bit of
storytelling, the kind thatmakes for good television on a
(54:33):
slow news day.
Yet those who ventured into thethick of it with their gadgets
and earnest expressions concludethat while the forest's antics
are somewhat understated,they're as persistent as a
salesman on commission, aphenomenon that most visitors
would reluctantly nod inagreement with.
The allure of Hoybatchu, muchlike that mystery novel you
(54:54):
can't put down.
Even though it's way pastbedtime, only grows with each
passing year.
It draws in a colourful crowd.
And then there are the guestsof honour wikens, witches and
satan worshippers, for whomcontroversial in some circles
might be a mild descriptor.
(55:14):
They regard the forest as akind of supernatural battery
pack, turbocharging their spellswith that good ol Hoybatchu
juice.
Despite the forest's popularityas a paranormal tourist trap, a
concrete explanation for itsphenomena remains as elusive as
a shadow in the dark.
But then again, perhaps thetruth of Hoybatchu, much like
(55:37):
beauty, lies in the eye of thebeholder.
After all, in a world wherereality often seems stranger
than fiction, who's to say whereone ends and the other begins
Diving into the heart ofHoybatchu Forest, from the
perspective of someone who'sboth a witch and a medium, yet
(55:57):
is never physically stepped intoits mysterious embrace, offers
a unique blend for me ofspeculation and educated
guesswork.
My experience in educationsuggests that the odd
occurrences within this Romanianenigma could be more than just
tales spun for thethrill-seekers among us.
Hoybatchu is, after all, notjust a forest.
(56:19):
It's a nexus of energeticportals and laylines which, from
a witch's perspective, are likethe highways of spiritual and
supernatural energiescrisscrossing the earth.
These invisible lines connectancient and sacred sites,
channeling earth's magneticenergies and potentially
creating gateways to otherdimensions.
The forest's reputation as aparanormal hotspot might well be
(56:43):
due to its placement on thesepowerful lines, making it a
beacon for otherworldly entitiesand a playground for the souls
of the deceased.
It's thought that these soulslinger in such an era of
energetically charged places,possibly explaining the numerous
sightings and experiencesreported in the area.
(57:05):
Considering my background, it'stempting to conjecture that
ancient rituals or practicesmight have imbued this place
with its power or openeddoorways to realms beyond our
understanding.
The forest's dense atmosphereand eerie quietude are ripe for
the kind of rituals that draw onthe earth's latent energies,
possibly amplifying the forest'sreputation as a portal between
(57:27):
worlds.
Moreover, the idea thatHoybatchu might sit atop an
early Romanian settlement cursedby a tragic fate adds yet more
layers to its mystery.
Such settlements often leavebehind echoes of their past
lives, emotional imprints andspiritual residues that might
manifest as the strangephenomena experienced by
(57:49):
visitors today.
The tales of Emil Barnea's UFOsightings, mysterious
apparitions and the physicaleffects on those who dare to
explore the forest only deepenthe enigma.
These stories spanning decadessuggest a continuity of
phenomena that's hard to dismissas mere coincidence or fiction.
They hint at the presence offorces or entities that exist
(58:12):
just beyond the veil of ourreality, observable only in
moments when that veil thins,such as in Hoybatchu.
We've just embarked on ametaphorical journey through the
deep, whispering force ofTransylvania, tiptoeing around
the edges of the known and theunknowable.
In this episode, we've dancedwith shadows and whispered to
(58:36):
the ghosts of lore, delving deepinto the heart of what makes us
human, our insatiable curiosityfor the mysteries that skirt
the boundaries of our reality.
So why fuss over ancient talesand creatures of the night?
It's simple, really.
These stories, these fragmentsof folklore handed down through
(58:57):
the ages, they're thewildflowers in the vast meadow
of human culture.
They thrive in the dark,nourished by our fears and
desires blooming into tales thatcaptivate, terrify and inspire.
They remind us that the worldis bigger, stranger and more
(59:17):
wonderful than we can possiblyimagine.
In the grand scheme of things,these stories are our way of
making sense of the darkness, offacing the vast unknown with
the defiant stare.
They're about finding light inthe darkest of places, about the
power of the human spirit toconfront and coexist with the
(59:37):
mysteries that surround us.
But here's the kicker what if,in peeling back the layers of
these tales, we find reflectionsof our own society, echoes of
our collective psyche?
What if, in exploring the eerieand the unexplained, we
discover not just tales of fearand wonder, but insights into
(01:00:02):
the very fabric of our being?
(01:01:06):
So, it is a very snowy day inDenver today as I'm recording
(01:01:29):
and editing, taking advantage ofthis snowstorm to crank out new
episodes for you.
I want to also remind any ofyou that our avid fans of
cinematic secrets, the dark sideof the silver screen, which is
our sister podcast on thisnetwork, are returning with a
brand new episode delving intoJoan Crawford, faye Dunaway Camp
(01:01:54):
and the incredible movie MommyDearest, which will be releasing
on Wednesday.
For this one, I will release itboth on the Windwalls can talk
platform as well as cinematicsecrets, just to remind you that
we're here again and that we'recreating podcast episodes on
both series.
We are obviously still on ourweekly cadence for Windwalls can
(01:02:17):
talk.
We are on a bi weekly cadencefor cinematic secrets and you
can look forward to a newepisode of monthly tarot magic
for the month of April, droppingon April 1st.
We also have began recordingthe next podcast that will be
joining our network, the RoyalRoad, legendary journeys and
drag pageantry, which will bedropping as a part of our pride
(01:02:39):
celebration during the month ofJune.
Each podcast will celebrate thequeer community in some way,
shape or form once we arrive toJune.
So I'm I have a lot going on anda lot that we're working
towards for you guys.
So follow us on Instagram atwhen walls can talk, with
underscores for spaces.
We're on tick tock.
We're on Facebook as a Facebookgroup.
(01:03:02):
We also have an email listthat's linked in the bottom of
your show notes here, so getinvolved.
Let us know your stories.
If you would like to submit astory towards a listener episode
in the future, you can emailthose to Jeremy at
whenwallscantalktarotcom.
Thank you for listening.
If you're in Denver, enjoy thesnow, and I will catch you on
(01:03:24):
Wednesday with our next episodeof cinematic secrets.
Oh, echo, echo, echo, echo, echo.
Speaker 2 (00:35):
Once upon a time, in the heart of Transylvania, there
lived a shepherd.
Youthful with the allure of thebold, he dreamed dreams as
boundless as the heavens.
His heart, however, was notfree to soar the skies, for it
was tethered to a maiden whosebeauty could make the morning
(00:57):
blush with envy.
Yet their love was entwinedwith thorns, forbidden by her
father, who declared such aunion against his wishes.
One fateful day, as theshepherd kept watch over his
flock on a solitary hill, adistressing cry shattered the
morning stillness.
(01:18):
Convinced his sheep were injeopardy, he ventured into the
shadowed woods, a realm rumouredby elders to be cursed.
Within, the trees writhed as inagony, echoing the sorrow of
restless spirits.
Deeper, he wandered into thegloom, where sunlight feared to
(01:40):
tread, and there the airthickened with whispers of
ancient tales.
Time ebbed away, leaving notrace of the shepherd or his two
hundred sheep.
They had been devoured by theforest.
Voracious hunger for souls.
The maiden, upon learning ofher lover's doom, was engulfed
(02:03):
by despair so profound it dimmedthe stars.
The world without him was avoid she could not bear.
Driven by her sorrow, shereturned to the cursed forest,
to the darkness that had claimedher heart.
Beneath a twisted tree, sheembraced her end, her life
(02:25):
forfeit to the forest's shadows.
Yet in death, her journey wasnot concluded.
The lorekeepers of Romania,wise in ancient secrets,
murmured that her spirit wasreborn as a sargoi, a creature
of vengeance cursed to roam theforest, they say.
(02:46):
A sargoi finds no rest untilits mortal remains are unearthed
and destroyed, liberating thesoul to eternity.
This is the legacy of Hoibachu,a forest that guards its
secrets with a fierce, darkhunger, a place where love
stories become ghost tales andthe line between the living and
(03:10):
the dead blurs into oblivion.
Welcome to the tale of HoibachuForest.
I'm Jeremy Hegg, and this iswhen Walls Can Talk.
Throughout the ages, man hasrepeated the same earnest,
(04:11):
saying more of a question,really, or perhaps even a plea
if these walls could talk.
But what if they do, and alwayshave?
Perhaps their stories, memoriesand messages are all around us.
If only we would take themoment to listen.
On this podcast, wereinvestigate legends and tales
(04:33):
of the past and allow the echoesof their lessons to live on
once again, informing us,educating us and sharing new and
unique insight into the innerworkings of the paranormal and
spiritual world.
Will you dare to listen?
This is when Walls Can Talk thepodcast.
(05:21):
Pennsylvania sits at the heartof Romania, cloaked not just in
dense fog but also in the kindof allure that could only be
described as vampiricallymagnetic.
It's a land that seems to havesprung straight out of a tragic
vampire novel or classic monstertale, complete with castles
perched on hilltops to foreststhat whisper secrets and chant
(05:44):
in the dark of the night.
Known to many through the lensof Bram Stoker's Dracula,
transylvania insists on beingmore than just the birthplace of
a legendary vampire.
Beyond its vampiric fame, it'sa region of breathtaking beauty,
from the imposing CarpathianMountains, which have been
(06:04):
standing guard like stern butslightly inattentive sentinels
for millennia, to the deep, darkforest that could give anyone
second thoughts about whatgetting back into nature really
means.
The history of Transylvania isas layered as a particularly
complex onion, with each peelrepresenting its time under
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Roman, hungarian, saxon andOttoman influence, to name just
a few.
This has resulted in a culturalmelange that could either be
described as a historian's dreamor a nightmare, depending on
one's affinity for keeping trackof empire handovers.
The region's medieval townsBreznov, sibiu and Klujnipoca
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are time capsules ofTransylvania's rich past,
boasting gothic churches thatcould make you feel slightly
guilty about any personalindiscretions and baroque
palaces that are opulent enoughto make anyone consider a career
change into medievalarchitecture.
The area is dotted with some ofEurope's most well-preserved
medieval fortifications, builtby communities who apparently
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believed very strongly in themotto if you want peace, prepare
for war.
Or perhaps just had anexcessive number of bricks on
hand.
But let's not forgetTransylvania's darker, more
mysterious side, which involvesless about historical battles
and more about the battles withthe unknown Boke.
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Tales of mythical creatures likevampires, storkoi, werewolves
and witches are so ingrained inthe culture that you might begin
to wonder if there's a localschool offering courses in
advanced broom flying orpractical bloodsucking 101.
These stories aren't just talestold to scare children into
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believing.
They're celebrated withfestivals and rituals that just
add a certain Genesequa to thenightlife.
And then there's the HoibachuForest, the Bermuda Triangle of
Romania, a place where the linebetween this world and the next
might be just thin enough totrip over, known for its
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paranormal phenomena, mysteriousdisappearances and the kind of
unexplained activities thatwould make even the most
skeptical among us ask wait,what happened?
Hoibachu is like a particularlycomplex James Wan film.
No matter how much we think weknow, there's always room for a
little mystery or at the veryleast for getting thoroughly
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lost in the woods.
Transylvania in Romania oftenemerges in the popular
imagination cloaked and missed,with Dracula leading the welcome
party.
Yet to reduce this vibrantregion to merely a land of
vampires would be like callingthe Grand Canyon a particularly
nice ditch.
It's not wrong, but it missesthe grandeur of the story
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entirely.
Historically, transylvania hasbeen the bell of the ball, with
a plethora of names on itscalling card, with the Romans,
hungarians, saxons and Ottomansall taking a turn on the dance
floor.
This wasn't just a politeRegency-era two-step, but a
series of conquests, settlementsand cultural exchanges that
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would take a self-proclaimedconspiracy theorist to sort it
all out, or at least a riotouslyunhinged Mori Povic episode.
Each of these powers left theirmark on the land, from the
Roman ruins that dot thelandscape to the Baroque cities
that look like they've beenplucked from a fairytale.
The region's strategic locationa lush valley ringed by the
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imposing Carpathian Mountainsmade it a coveted prize.
The desirability wasn't justabout good views though
admittedly, the vistas arebeyond perfect but about control
over the trade routes thatthreaded through the mountains.
Archaeological digs in the areahave unearthed settlements that
date back to the Neolithic Age,suggesting that humans have
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found Transylvania to be primereal estate for millennia.
These early inhabitants didn'tleave much in the way of written
records, but the tools andremnants of their lives hint at
a community that thrived herelong before the castles were
built and the legends of thesupernatural took root.
Speaking of supernatural,transylvania's folklore is a
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thick stew of myths, legends anda pinch of historical facts for
flavor.
The region's stories reflectits history of invasions and
conflicts, where tales ofsturgoi, vampires and werewolves
likely served as metaphors forthe fear of the unknown and the
dangers lurking beyond thesafety of the village walls.
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The folklore is a broad swathof cultures and beliefs, from
the drachian worship of natureto the imported myths of the
medieval settlers.
Today, transylvania is avibrant region that embraces its
past while looking to thefuture.
Its cities, like Cluj-Napocaand Brasov, are bustling hubs of
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culture and education, wherecenturies-old architecture meets
modern nightlife.
The region's rural areaspreserve traditional ways of
life, with horse-drawn cartssharing roads with cars and
age-old farming practicescoexisting with modern
agriculture.
To visit Transylvania is to stepinto a storybook, where every
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castle has a history, everyforest might hide a secret and
the past is always just beneaththe surface.
It's a land where history, mythand nature intertwine, offering
visitors a rich tapestry ofexperiences that go far beyond
the cliches.
So while you might come seekingDracula, you'll stay for the
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mesmerizing beauty, the warmthof its people and the layers of
history waiting to be discovered.
This is not just a land ofmyths and folklore, but also a
vibrant cultural melting potwhere diverse ethnic groups have
woven their traditions into avibrant living existence.
This harmonious yet complexblend of cultures, including
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Romanians, hungarians, saxonsand Roma, has contributed
significantly to Transylvania'ssupernatural lore.
The threads of folklore arewoven with a flare that suggests
the locals might have had a bittoo much fun scaring each other
over the centuries.
It's a place where the linebetween the living and the
dearly departed is as blurry asmy vision might be after a long
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night pondering over the localplum brandy.
The Romanians.
With a love for storytellingthat rivals my own passion for
wandering into places, Iprobably shouldn't have
populated their lore with a hostof characters that make the
usual ghost stories sound likebedtime tales for the
particularly brave Sturgoi.
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The local variety of vampiresand Moroi spirits of those who
just can't seem to let go,suggest that Romanians have a
particularly intenserelationship with the afterlife,
peppered with a healthy dose offear for the unknown.
It's as if they decided thatlife was so interesting.
Death ought to be acontinuation, albeit with more
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floating and less walking.
Enter the Hungarians, stage leftwith their tales of the Taltos.
Shaman-like figures withsupernatural powers Live in
Transylvania's history as acultural crossroads.
It's no surprise that Hungarianlegends have mingled with
Romanian ones, creating a sharedfolklore that's as rich as the
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region's history.
It's a bit like a supernaturalexchange program, where each
culture contributes its mostintriguing myths to the
collective imagination.
Not to be outdone, the Saxonsthrew in their lot with stories
of haunted castles and ghostlyknights, perhaps inspired by the
very architecture theyintroduced to the region.
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Their fortified churches andimposing castles aren't just
feats of medieval engineering.
They're the perfect settingsfor tales of things that go bump
in the night, proving that goodreal estate is as important in
folklore as it is in life.
And let's not forget the Roma,whose nomadic lifestyle and rich
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oral tradition have added yetanother layer of depth to
Transylvania's supernatural lore.
Their stories, brimming withmagic, fortune telling and
curses, speak of a deepconnection to nature and the
spiritual world, offering aperspective that enriches the
region's folklore even further.
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In Romanian folklore,traditional beliefs about the
soul and what lies beyond havesculpted a unique perspective on
paranormal phenomena.
It's as if Romanians, facedwith the mysteries of existence,
decided not to just embrace theenigma but to throw a
full-blown party for it,inviting vampires, spirits and
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all manner of supernaturalguests.
At the heart of these beliefslies the concept of the soul, a
sort of cosmic hitchhiker thatdoesn't quite depart this world
upon death.
Instead, it lingers, perhapsout of sheer stubbornness, or
maybe just to keep an eye on theliving, ensuring they're
properly mourning, or maybe justto eavesdrop on what's being
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said about them.
The enduring presence of thesoul speaks to a deeply
ingrained belief in an afterlifethat's not just a continuation
of existence but a parallelreality where the dead keep busy
, presumably pondering themysteries of the universe, or
perhaps just watching over theirdescendants with a mix of pride
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and consternation.
This mix of beliefs naturallylends itself to a heightened
perception of paranormalphenomena.
In Romania, a creaking door or asudden chill isn't just
dismissed as the house settlingor the weather turning.
It might very well be AuntMaria just checking in from the
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other side.
It's a perspective that turnsthe paranormal into something
almost mundane, a part ofeveryday life.
Oh, that's just the strugoifrom next door, one might say,
with the same nonchalance ascommenting on the weather.
These traditions, with theirblend of reverence and
pragmatism, offer a window intothe Romanian soul, itself
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Resilient, complex and alwaysready to find purpose in the
face of the unknown.
It's a world where thesupernatural rubs shoulders with
the living, not always inharmony, but certainly with a
degree of familiarity thatsuggests an ongoing dialogue
between the worlds of the livingand the dead.
After all, in Romania, theafterlife might just be the most
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lively place of all In thisworld.
Witchcraft and divination aren'tjust practices from dusty old
books, but living traditionsthat pulse in the heart of those
who believe and practice themdeeply, much like myself.
Here in Romania, these arts areas much a part of their
heritage as the rich tapestry oftheir history, from the ancient
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drachy and priests divining thewill of the gods to the wise
women of medieval villagescasting spells for love, health
and protection.
Witchcraft in Romania reflectsthe resilience of its people.
It draws from a well ofknowledge that predates the
Roman conquest, through thetumultuous centuries under the
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dominion of the Austro-HungarianEmpire and into the present day
.
It's a blend of the ancient andthe modern, where spells might
be cast with the same fervor asa prayer in a church.
As someone who also walks thispath, I can tell you that to
practice witchcraft anddivination in Romania must be to
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engage in a deep dialogue withher history.
It's to stand in a forestclearing under the full moon,
feeling the whispers of thedrachy and mystics who once
worshipped Zalmoxis, their godof the underworld, and to seek
guidance from the same celestialbodies that guided our
ancestors through these verylands.
It's to craft a love potionfrom herbs that a Saxon healer
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might have used, invoking thesame spirits that might have
been known to Romanians forcenturies.
Divination the art of seeingbeyond the veil, is practiced
with reverence for the tools andsymbols passed down through
generations.
Whether it's reading the futurein the patterns of thrown bones
, interpreting the messageshidden in a deck of tarot cards
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or gazing into the depths of acrystal ball, each act as a link
in a chain that connects us toour past.
It's an acknowledgement that,while empires have come and gone
, the land and its spiritsremain whispering their secrets
to those willing to listen.
From this perspective,witchcraft and divination are
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not just curiosities but vitalthreads in the fabric of
Romanian culture.
They are practices that honourthe complexity of human
existence, acknowledged thatthere are forces at work beyond
what we can see and touch.
As a practitioner, I too am aguardian of these traditions, a
bridge between the old ways andthe new world, dedicated to
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keeping the ancient wisdom alivefor future generations.
Diving into the heart ofRomanian folklore from the cozy
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confines of my study laptop atthe ready and a cup of tea
within reach allows for anexploration of the country's
rich supernatural landscapewithout the slightest risk of
encountering a stray werewolf orgetting lost in an
interdimensional portal.
It's here, amidst the digitalpages of folklore and legend,
that the tales of the Stracoi,iele Moroi, pricolici and
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Domovoi come to life, weavingtheir mysteries through the
dense foliage of the HoivacuForest.
First we encounter the Stracoi,feared entities that stalk the
boundaries between life anddeath.
The Stracoi, in essence, orwhat you might call Romania's
answer to the more gardenvariety vampire found in western
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lore, but with a twist thatcould only come from a land as
steeped in mystery and magic asRomania.
These beings are thought to betroubled spirits of the dead
rising from their graves, butnot just any dead they're
usually those who've had a bitof a rough go in life or death,
as it were, leaving behind atangled web of unresolved issues
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that apparently not even deathcan untie.
Originating from ancientDrakian and Roman mythology,
where the boundaries between theliving and the dead were more
like suggestions than actualbarriers, stracoi are said to
return to the world of theliving with some unfinished
business.
As for their characteristics,well, let's just say you
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wouldn't want to meet one on adark night.
They're known for theirshape-shifting abilities, their
pensions for draining thevitality of the living and,
interestingly, their aversion togarlic.
Yes, it does seem that somestereotypes hold true, even in
the realm of the supernatural.
It's a creature that looks likeit could have once been your
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neighbor, except now it has thepallor of someone who spent too
much time underground.
Because well, it has.
The Stracoi are not yourHollywood-style vampires with
impeccable style and broodinggood looks.
They're more the type to chillthe blood rather than charm it
out of you.
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Encountering a Stracoi would belike stumbling upon a walking
talking embodiment of all yourmidnight fears, on a night that
is perhaps as dark as a witch'scupboard.
Perhaps you're minding your ownbusiness when suddenly there's
a chill in the air, a feelingthat you're not alone.
You turn and find yourself faceto face with a being that's
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both familiar and utterly alien.
Its eyes, deep and unsettling,seem to pierce right through you
, seeing not just who you arebut who you've been.
Their appearance is a ghastlysight, with a skin that relates
its time in the grave andmovements that flirt with the
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unnatural.
They might be dressed inoutdated garb, a ghostly fashion
statement from an era best leftforgotten, adding to their out
of time and out of place aura.
The Stracoi's countenance is amirror to their tumultuous
existence, marked by theunresolved passions and
grievances of their past life.
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To encounter a Stracoi is toexperience a cocktail of fear,
fascination and a sudden urge toreconsider your stance on the
supernatural.
It's the kind of meeting thatwould leave you with a story
you're not quite sure youbelieve yourself, a tale to be
whispered at gatherings when thelights are low and the night is
ripe with mysteries.
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It's a brush with the unknownthat might just make you keep
your garlic on the nightstand,just in case.
The cultural significance of theStracoi and Romanian beliefs
about death and life is profound.
They represent the fear of theunknown, the anxiety of
unfinished business and thedeep-rooted belief that death
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might not be the end of yourtroubles.
It's a reminder, perhaps, tosettle our debts and make peace
with our enemies before weshuffle off this mortal coil or
risk coming back as a verydisgruntled spirit.
To ward off these night-walkingnuisances, romanians have
historically turned to a varietyof rituals and protections.
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Garlic, of course, is a staplein any self-respecting Stracoi
deterrent kit.
But for those looking for a bitmore assurance, hawthorne
steaks and the removal of theheart from the body of the
deceased from which itoriginates were also recommended
practices.
It's a bit more hands-on thansimply hanging garlic by your
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window, but when dealing withthe undead it's always best to
cover your bases.
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Stepping away from the more,shall we say, gravely serious
aspects of Romanian folklore,let's venture into the woods,
figuratively speaking, to meetthe Iele.
These entities are the forestspirits of Romania, and they're
as whimsical as they arebeautiful, embodying the very
essence of Caprice.
Think of them as the guardiansof ancient lands, but with the
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temperament of a cat that'sdecided.
It's not quite sure whether itwants to be petted or left
utterly alone.
The Iele are often depicted aswild, untamed forces of nature,
which is a polite way of sayingthey do what they want when they
want.
They're known for their sacreddances and enchanting music
which, much like the latest pophit, can get stuck in your head
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in a way that's both magical andslightly maddening.
Encountering the Iele is akinto stumbling upon a rave in the
middle of the forest, where themusic seeps into your very soul.
You're not sure if you'llemerge with profound
supernatural insight or just areally odd story for your
friends.
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Described in folklore asstunningly beautiful, the Iele
are not just forest spirits.
They're the life of the partyin the natural world, flitting
through the trees with anelegance that would make even
the most graceful ballet dancergreen with envy.
But it's not all fun and games.
These spirits can bless orcurse humans, depending on their
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whims.
It's a bit like receiving agift from someone who doesn't
quite follow the social contract, leaving you to wonder whether
you're about to open a box ofchocolates or a can of worms.
Imagine wandering through theancient forests of Romania, the
moon casting shadows through thetrees, when the sound of
ethereal music wafts through theair.
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Drawn by the melody, you findyourself face to face with the
Iele, their dance mesmerizingtheir beauty otherworldly.
It's a moment of pureenchantment, a brush with a wild
heart of nature itself.
The moroi are fascinatingcreatures too, another unique
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variant of ghosts that tread thefine line between life and the
afterlife, drawing energy fromthe living while haunting the
Romanian countryside Withcharacteristics as varied as the
stories themselves, thesebeings embody the fear and
fascination with death thatpervades Romanian folklore.
They often share the same stagewith Sregoi and Pricolici and
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other nocturnal entities with apenchant for the darkness.
Then there's the Pricolici, acharacter that manages to be
both a werewolf and a vampire, asort of buy one, get one free.
In the supernatural world, thePricolici is like the ultimate
shapeshifter, capable ofmingling in society as an
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ordinary human or lurking in theshadows as an animal, though it
seems to have a particularfondness for its wolf form.
Much like its folklore cousin,the Sregoi, the Pricolici is
what you might call an undeadoverachiever, dying from the
grave with a singular purpose tomake life decidedly unpleasant
for the living.
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The Sregoi, with its human-likequalities, might throw you off
with its anthropomorphic charm,but the Pricolici is more
straightforward, always dawningits wolfish guise.
It's said that in life, andindeed after, those of a
particularly malicious andviolent disposition are
earmarked to become Pricolici,continuing their reign of terror
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post-mortem with a supernaturalflair.
The lure doesn't stop there.
It twists and turns, suggestingthat pregaleci are werewolves
in life, who then clock in asvampires in the afterlife,
showcasing an impressiveversatility in the monster realm
.
This duality gives rise totales of vampires with a
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penchant for animalimpersonations wolves, dogs,
owls, bats, all united withtheir shared hobby of nocturnal
hunting.
Just forward to modern times,and the legend of the pregaleci
isn't just a tale to scarechildren into behaving.
In the more remote corners ofRomania, whispers of encounters
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with abnormally large and silentwolves persist even today,
attacks that leave the localswhispering about the pregaleci.
And then there's my personalfavorite, a creature as
beguiling as it is troublesomethe Zuborader, or the flying
thing, which sounds more like aname concocted after witnessing
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one too many unidentified flyingobjects after a long night at
the pub.
This vampiric entity, somewhatakin to an incubus, is the
supernatural heartthrob ofancient tales, combining the
allure of a dark, mysteriousstranger with the flight
capabilities of your averagesuperhero.
Pilled as a winged andstrikingly handsome young man
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with eyes and hair as dark asthe night from which he emerges,
the Zuborader has a penchantfor dramatic entrances,
streaking across the sky like ashooting star.
His nocturnal visits to youngmaidens sound like the plot of a
particularly steamy novel,where he engages in amorous
activities while simultaneouslyengaging in a bit of life force
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and tiltering, leaving hisparamours not just breathless
but also rather worse for wear.
Although I can't promise, ifone crossed my path I'd be
turning him down either,although I'm sure I would not be
his type.
You know, as much as I fancymyself a rational, level-headed
sort of person, there's a tiny,slightly irrational part of me
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that can help but feel a smidgeaffronted at the thought of
being overlooked by asupernatural nightcrawler like
the Zuborader.
The notion that a mythicalbeing who, mind you, specializes
in moonlit flybys and energypilfering, might not find me up
to snuff is frankly a bit of aninsult.
But here I am potentiallygetting my metaphysical knickers
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in a twist over the prospect ofnot catching the eye of
Transylvania's most eligiblebachelor from the spectral realm
.
It's like being ghosted beforeyou were even ghosted by an
actual ghost, or close enough.
I guess what I'm saying is, ifyou ever find yourself fretting
about your appeal to theotherworldly, just remember you
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are in good, albeit slightlybaffled, company.
And how does one fend off thisamorous airborne energy thief.
For the rare few of you who,albeit responsibly, might want
to, the solution is disarminglysimple A clove of garlic on the
window sill.
It's almost anticlimactic thatsuch a dashing figure of the
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night could be thwarted bysomething that's also a key
ingredient in a decent spaghettisauce.
Yet there lies the charm offolklore, a world where the
fanciful and the mundane collidein the most unexpected of ways,
leaving behind stories thatterrify, tantalize and tickle
the imagination in equal measure.
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These tales, set against thebackdrop of the Hoibachu Forest,
suggest that the forest itselfmight be a nexus of such
supernatural activity and a homefor many, if not all, of these
entities.
The connections between theseentities and Hoibachu highlight
the forest's role in Romania'ssupernatural landscape.
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It's a living legend, a placewhere the echoes of past lives
mingle with the energies of theEarth, creating a tapestry of
tales that challenge ourunderstanding of the world.
But yet there's one morecreature of folklore that lurks,
as enigmatic as she isformidable Mumma padori.
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Often depicted as an embodimentof the Force's wildest and most
untamed aspects, she couldeasily be mistaken for the
Woodlands' disgruntled caretaker, if not for her penchant for
mischief.
In mayhem, she's oftendescribed as an old, rather
unsightly witch whose realestate portfolio exclusively
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comprises of the deepest,darkest recesses of the forest.
She's not just anothercharacter in the woods.
She is the spirit and theguardian, the proverbial old
lady yelling at those who dareto harm her grain of bone or
flout its sacred laws.
Mumma padori's skillset wouldput most to shame, boasting
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abilities that range fromshape-shifting to controlling
natural elements.
Her nature is as complex as theforest itself.
Sometimes she's the malevolentforce lurking behind every twig
snap, and at others she's theprotective spirit embodying the
raw, fierce love for her domain.
She's not just dealing withpesky trespassers, but also
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engaging with other supernaturalentities in a dance as old as
the forest itself.
These stories often paint her asthe staunch defender of the
Force's secrets, a punisher ofhuman greed and a reminder of
the respect and reverence thatnature commands.
Her cultural significancecannot be overstated.
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Mumma padori in many waysrepresents the Romanian ethos of
respecting and fearing thenatural world, a relationship
built on the understanding ofthe delicate balance that
sustains life.
The moral lessons woven intoher tales serve as stark
reminders.
The forest gives, but it canalso take, especially from those
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who take too much, withoutgiving back when it comes to the
mysterious andparanormal-charged landscape of
Hoibachu Forest.
One can help but speculateabout the presence of Mumma
Padori or entities like her.
Could her energy be whatcharges the forest with such a
palpable sense of otherworldliness?
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It's as if the very air inHoibachu vibrates with stories.
Each tree whispering tales ofold, each shadow a reflection of
the Force's ancient andunyielding power.
In this supernatural theatre,mumma Padori could very well be
the director orchestrating theeerie symphony that makes
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Hoibachu a place of endlessfascination.
Nestled to the north of therather optimistically named Long
Valley, or Vallea Lunga, if youprefer, the local dialect, lies
a spot known as Gura Baciului,or Shepard's Mouth, a name that
conjures up images of pastoraltranquility rather than of
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unsolved mysteries.
Yet here lies the oldestNeolithic settlement in Romania,
a place that archaeologists,with their travels and
indefinable curiosity, haveprodded and poked from 1960 to
1994.
We've unearthed a veritabletreasure trove of tombs and
houses.
But let's be honest, it's notthe ancient floor plans or
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shards of pottery that causeconcern.
It's the legends, the sort thatmake you question the wisdom of
night-time strolls inunfamiliar woods.
Take, for example, the tale ofa shepherd who, along with his
flock of sheep, wandered intothe dark depths and simply
vanished.
It's a story that might makeone reconsider the career
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viability of shepherding,especially in areas prone to
consuming their inhabitants.
And he's not alone.
Over a millennium has passed andit's said that more than a
thousand souls have disappearedinto the ether, lending the
place a certain notoriety thatthe local tourism board probably
doesn't advertise.
One of the most chillingaccounts involves a
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five-year-old girl who wanderedinto the woods, presumably
deciding that a solo expeditionwas a good idea or perhaps more
likely, chasing a particularlyoblivious butterfly.
Despite the best efforts ofwhat one hopes were competent
rescue teams, she left no trace,that is until she strolled back
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out five years later, stillclad in her day of disappearance
attire, which was miraculouslyan impeccable condition.
Her memory of the interveningyears was non-existent.
One can only imagine her firstdinner back.
So anything new happened whileI was out.
Then there are the five otherswho weren't quite so lucky,
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turning up eventually, but notin the way one hopes.
Their returns were posthumous,with conclusions drawn that
they'd all met their ends bytheir own hands.
And if you're looking for thefirst clue that you've wandered
into a place more twilight zonethan pastoral paradise, tick a
gander at the trees Instead ofreaching for the sky in the
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traditional tree-like manner.
Many of them appear to haveheard a different calling,
opting for a posture more akinto a bow or a dramatic stage
lean.
It's as though they're engagedin a silent dance with an
invisible partner, one whosechoreography leans heavily
towards the avant-garde.
It's the botanical equivalentof a crowded house party, where
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seven or eight trunks sproutfrom the same roots, as if they
couldn't bear the thought ofgrowing up and moving out.
Researchers, scratching theirheads in bewilderment, have
noted that these woodencontortions and multiplications
occur abruptly within blink oryou'll miss it timeframes
defying any logical explanations.
It seems even the trees inHoibachu are in a rush, although
(39:56):
it's unclear where exactlythey're trying to go.
Venture further northwest andyou'll stumble upon the forest's
pièce de resistance, poyanaRotunda or the round meadow.
This almost perfectly circularclearing is where vegetation
apparently decided to throw inthe towel, originating more than
(40:17):
two centuries ago.
This botanical bald spot hasleft scientists scratching their
heads, as soil analysis aftersoil analysis has failed to
reveal why nothing much growsthere.
It's as if the ground itselfdecided to keep a secret,
stubbornly refusing to spill thebeans to nosy researchers with
their fancy equipment.
(40:39):
The curious case of HoibachuForest truly kicked off in 1953,
when Alexander Sift, abiologist with an apparent
penchant for mystery or perhapsa shortage of hobbies stumbled
upon a phenomenon that wouldmake the most stoic of
scientists raise an eyebrow.
Enthralled by the local lore,sift began frequenting the
(40:59):
forest, only to find himself ina game of shadow tag with
entities that, frankly, weren'ttoo keen on playing by the rules
.
Sift, ever the diligentscientist, attempted to capture
these elusive shadows on film, atask that proved as
straightforward as explainingquantum physics to a cat.
However, upon developing thephotos, he found himself staring
(41:23):
at not just shadows, butstrange objects and silhouettes
that seemed to have photo-bombedhis shots, despite his
certainty that they hadn't beenthere at the time.
This unexpected cameoappearance suggested that the
mystery enveloping Hoibachumight be tied to phenomena
involving light and magnetism,or perhaps to photogenic spirits
(41:44):
with a flair for the dramatic.
But the forest flirtation withinternational stardom didn't
truly ignite until August 18th1968.
Emil Barnier, a 45-year-oldmilitary technician and
apparently the only person inRomania with a camera, was
enjoying a Sunday in the forestwith his girlfriend and two
(42:06):
friends as they prepared for acozy fire.
His friend's urgent call drewhim back to the round meadow,
where he was greeted by thesight of a large, round silver
object performing a silentballet in the sky.
With the presence of mind thatonly a true military man or an
avid photographer could muster,barnier managed to snap a few
(42:28):
shots of the UFO as it flashed,twisted and then made a rather
dramatic exit into the sky.
Despite the ever-watchful eyeof communist censorship, these
photos managed to escape Romania, embarking on an international
tour courtesy of the NationalPress Agency.
For long, the images weregracing the pages of paranormal
(42:51):
literature, worldwidescrutinized by experts from
Europe to the United States, allof whom agreed on their
authenticity.
The photos weren't justremarkable for their clarity but
for the tantalizing detailsthey captured, making a
compelling case for Hoibachu asa hotspot for UFO enthusiasts
and conspiracy theorists alike.
(43:14):
In 1994, amidst the solemnbackdrop of Emil Barnier's
passing, kalin Turcu, a namethat carries considerable weight
in the Romanian ufology circles, shares a captivating piece of
correspondence penned by afriend of the late military
technician.
The letter told a tale asintriguing as any episode of the
(43:35):
X-Files, revealing that Barnierhad been spirited away by
mysterious figures to the hallsof the Central Committee of the
Communist Party.
There, under the watchful gazeof the securitate officers,
barnier was relieved of hisfilms and the original
photographs under the pretenseof a temporary loan.
Needless to say, the promisedreturn was about as likely as
(43:57):
finding a parking spot right infront of your destination, a
thing that simply never happened.
Meanwhile, alexandra C,undeterred by the
cloak-and-dagger anticssurrounding Barnier's evidence,
continued his own quest tounravel the enigma of Hoibachu,
amassing an astonishingcollection of over 25,000 films
(44:17):
that captured the etherealpresence of structures invisible
to the mere mortal eye.
In 1974, c's path crossed withProfessor Ajam Petrus, a fellow
enthusiast of the paranormal.
Sadly, following C's death in1993, much of his life's work
vanished into thin air, courtesyof some less than ethereal
(44:40):
visitors to his old home.
These strangers that broke inmade off with the documents
ensuring their swift destructionin what can only be described
as a real-life plot twist.
Despite this dramatic loss, theresidue of evidence left behind
was sufficient to furrow browsand scribble question marks in
the margins of the conventionalunderstanding of the universe.
(45:03):
Professor Petrus remains astaunch advocate for the
scientific underpinnings ofthese bizarre occurrences,
insisting that there must be arational explanation.
Lurking just beyond our grasp,the skies above Hoibachu have
played host to a veritable airshow of UFOs, captured by the
(45:23):
keen lenses of numerouswitnesses.
These sightings range fromfiery orbs to geometrically
pleasing pyramids, proving thateven extraterrestrial visitors
have a flair for diversity.
The force reputation forcloaking UFOs from the visible
spectrum, only to reveal themupon the development of
(45:43):
photographs, adds yet anotherpuzzle.
It's as if Hoibachu itself is acosmic darkroom, developing
snapshots of the unknown andleaving us all pondering what
lies beyond the frame.
In the vast encyclopedia ofpeculiarities that is Hoibachu
Forest, there exists a categorythat might make you question
(46:05):
your next selfie bioforms.
These entities, which bear astriking resemblance to humans
and animals, could easily blendinto a family reunion photo, if
not for the minor detail thatthey're sometimes invisible to
the naked eye.
Often, they assume the guise ofsomeone who's left a
significant imprint on theobserver, be it Ott Milda or
(46:27):
that pet hamster from thirdgrade.
Adrian Petrus, a man who's seenmore than his fair share of
Hoibachu's wonders, recounts astrange sequence of events.
In January 1975, on a brisk dayperfect for uncovering
mysteries or, at the very least,getting a little bit of
exercise, Petrus accompanied aband of intrepid friends who
(46:49):
stumbled upon mysterious ruins.
Snap, snap, snap went theircameras capturing the moment for
posterity, or so they thought.
Two weeks later, still ridingthe high of their discovery,
petrus returned only to find theruins had pulled a disappearing
act worthy of Houdini.
Over time, these structuresdidn't just vanish from the land
(47:14):
, they faded from thephotographs as well, as if they
were never more than a figmentof collective imagination.
And then there was that winterday when Petrus and a group of
travellers observed a series offootprints in the snow, marking
a path that suddenly ceased, asif the walkers had been abruptly
teleported to places unknown.
(47:35):
It's the sort of occurrencethat makes one consider the
practicality of snowshoes, notfor traversing snow but for
avoiding unexpectedinterdimensional travel.
The silence in Hoibachu isanything but golden.
It's more a cacophony of soundsthat could give a Hollywood
sound effects team a run fortheir money.
(47:55):
Witnesses traipsing through thewoods have reported an auditory
smorgasbord, the wail ofambulance sirens echoing off the
trees, the ticking of clocks,the pop of exploding tires and
an assortment of quick, strangescreams or giggles that might
make you think the forest ishaving a bit more fun than you
(48:16):
are.
And then there's the curiouscase of vanishing battery life.
Venture into Hoibachu with afully charged electronic device
and you might find it as drainedas if it had run a marathon,
prompting speculation that theforest has a bit of an energy
drinking problem.
It's as though the very airsiphons power, leaving your
gadgets as lifeless as adiscarded banana peel.
(48:40):
As for the fauna of Hoibachu, itseems the forest didn't get the
memo on regional biodiversity.
Adrian Petruc and his team,during their explorations,
encountered a cast of animalcharacters straight out of a
fantasy novel.
Take, for instance, theirrun-in with a bustered, a bird
teetering on the brink ofextinction, which apparently
(49:01):
decided to flout geographicalnorms and take a stroll through
Hoibachu.
Then there was the appearanceof a large cat bearing an
uncanny resemblance to a leopard.
Now, last time anyone checked,leopards weren't native to the
area, suggesting Hoibachu mightbe bending the rules of zoology
or hosting a secret animalconvention.
(49:23):
Hoibachu Forest, with itsso-called active areas, seems
less like a walk in the park andmore like a stroll through a
particularly temperamentalminefield.
These zones, rumored byenthusiasts to be portals to
other dimensions, have a way ofleaving their mark, quite
literally, on those who traversethem.
Burn marks, scratches, anunquenchable thirst and not for
(49:48):
knowledge, vouts of anxiety andeven unexpected naps, also known
as blackouts, are just a fewsouvenirs you might bring back
with you.
During one paranormal incursion, an investigator got a
first-hand demonstration ofHoibachu's hospitality when they
were unexpectedly thrown to theground by hands unseen,
suggesting that whatever residesin the forest might not be the
(50:13):
biggest fan of visitors.
Andrei Dorobonstev, a professorand physicist who presumably
enjoys delving into theunexplained when not grappling
with the laws of physics, hasshared extraordinary tales.
He recounts a journey by agroup of paranormal aficionados
into the heart of Bachu, a tripthat took a turn for the surreal
(50:35):
when their photographs revealedfaces distorted to the point of
having multiple heads.
Whether this was a trick of thelight or a trick of the forest
remains a topic of debate.
The forest's penchant fortheatrics extends to
unsuspecting television crewsand drivers.
In one incident, a driverslammed on the brakes, convinced
(50:56):
he had hit an elderly lady whoappeared from the ether.
Despite a thorough searchwithin a one-kilometer radius,
no trace was found of themysterious figure, leaving
everyone to wonder if Hoibachuhad momentarily turned into a
pedestrian crossing for thespectral.
And then there are those whoventure in for what they assume
will be a brief exploration,only to emerge to the surprise
(51:20):
of search parties that had beenorganized in their absence.
Time, it seems, has a differentmeaning in Hoibachu, where a
short walk can turn into aninadvertent game of hide and
seek with concerned locals.
In 2009, the web was a buzz witha tale that sounded like it was
straight out of a campfirestory session.
(51:41):
A group of intrepid soulsdecided to spend three nights in
the embrace of the woods,presumably because the allure of
a comfy bed and indoor plumbingjust didn't cut it.
On their first day, while onexpedition to fetch water from a
creek a task that alreadysounds like the beginning of
every horror movie ever theyencountered an old man.
(52:02):
He limped amongst the trees,projecting a vibe that screamed
I'm about to be a centralcharacter in your story.
His deep blue eyes held a gazethat could only be described as
unsettlingly intense, making thegroup of travelers pause.
Politeness prevailed and theygreeted him, assuming he'd
(52:23):
emerged from a nearby sheepfold.
Perhaps tired of the sheep'scompany, the old man, in a scene
that lacked only a fog machineto complete the eerie atmosphere
, inquired about the route toCluj-Napoca.
His lack of baggage was notable.
The travelers, ever helpful,directed him to follow a
(52:44):
tire-tracked path, a route sostraightforward even Hansel and
Gretel could manage it.
He thanked them with the air ofsomeone who's just been told
the Wi-Fi password and limpedaway.
Upon returning to their camp,the group discovered that their
friends hadn't seen anymysterious limping visitors,
even one that would have had tohave crossed the clearing in
(53:04):
order to make it back to town.
A search ensued, but the oldman had vanished.
Perhaps deciding Cluj wasn'tfor him after all.
Now one might chalk this up topure fiction, a tale spun from
the threads of an overactiveimagination, yet it stands as a
quintessential example of theunexplained phenomena that seem
(53:26):
to revel in catching us offguard, especially in settings
already ripe for mystery.
It's little wonder the BBC oncedubbed Hoibachu as the world's
most haunted forest.
With stories like these, it'sas if the forest itself delights
in maintaining its trip-advisorrating as the go-to destination
for those looking to add a dashof supernatural intrigue to
(53:48):
their outdoor adventures, as thelocals call it, when they're
feeling particularly mystical.
The Costco of interdimensionalgateways is rumoured to be a
hotspot for astral travelers,souls on a 40-day layover after
death and entities that didn'tquite make the cut for our
dimension Spiritualist waxpoetic about the forest being a
(54:10):
cosmic revolving door betweenthe astral plain and our more
pedestrian earthly realm,suggesting it's where souls of
the dearly departed hang out,presumably because the afterlife
lacks decent waiting rooms.
Skeptics, on the other hand,lean back in their armchairs,
stroking their chins, anddeclare it all a splendid bit of
storytelling, the kind thatmakes for good television on a
(54:33):
slow news day.
Yet those who ventured into thethick of it with their gadgets
and earnest expressions concludethat while the forest's antics
are somewhat understated,they're as persistent as a
salesman on commission, aphenomenon that most visitors
would reluctantly nod inagreement with.
The allure of Hoybatchu, muchlike that mystery novel you
(54:54):
can't put down.
Even though it's way pastbedtime, only grows with each
passing year.
It draws in a colourful crowd.
And then there are the guestsof honour wikens, witches and
satan worshippers, for whomcontroversial in some circles
might be a mild descriptor.
(55:14):
They regard the forest as akind of supernatural battery
pack, turbocharging their spellswith that good ol Hoybatchu
juice.
Despite the forest's popularityas a paranormal tourist trap, a
concrete explanation for itsphenomena remains as elusive as
a shadow in the dark.
But then again, perhaps thetruth of Hoybatchu, much like
(55:37):
beauty, lies in the eye of thebeholder.
After all, in a world wherereality often seems stranger
than fiction, who's to say whereone ends and the other begins
Diving into the heart ofHoybatchu Forest, from the
perspective of someone who'sboth a witch and a medium, yet
(55:57):
is never physically stepped intoits mysterious embrace, offers
a unique blend for me ofspeculation and educated
guesswork.
My experience in educationsuggests that the odd
occurrences within this Romanianenigma could be more than just
tales spun for thethrill-seekers among us.
Hoybatchu is, after all, notjust a forest.
(56:19):
It's a nexus of energeticportals and laylines which, from
a witch's perspective, are likethe highways of spiritual and
supernatural energiescrisscrossing the earth.
These invisible lines connectancient and sacred sites,
channeling earth's magneticenergies and potentially
creating gateways to otherdimensions.
The forest's reputation as aparanormal hotspot might well be
(56:43):
due to its placement on thesepowerful lines, making it a
beacon for otherworldly entitiesand a playground for the souls
of the deceased.
It's thought that these soulslinger in such an era of
energetically charged places,possibly explaining the numerous
sightings and experiencesreported in the area.
(57:05):
Considering my background, it'stempting to conjecture that
ancient rituals or practicesmight have imbued this place
with its power or openeddoorways to realms beyond our
understanding.
The forest's dense atmosphereand eerie quietude are ripe for
the kind of rituals that draw onthe earth's latent energies,
possibly amplifying the forest'sreputation as a portal between
(57:27):
worlds.
Moreover, the idea thatHoybatchu might sit atop an
early Romanian settlement cursedby a tragic fate adds yet more
layers to its mystery.
Such settlements often leavebehind echoes of their past
lives, emotional imprints andspiritual residues that might
manifest as the strangephenomena experienced by
(57:49):
visitors today.
The tales of Emil Barnea's UFOsightings, mysterious
apparitions and the physicaleffects on those who dare to
explore the forest only deepenthe enigma.
These stories spanning decadessuggest a continuity of
phenomena that's hard to dismissas mere coincidence or fiction.
They hint at the presence offorces or entities that exist
(58:12):
just beyond the veil of ourreality, observable only in
moments when that veil thins,such as in Hoybatchu.
We've just embarked on ametaphorical journey through the
deep, whispering force ofTransylvania, tiptoeing around
the edges of the known and theunknowable.
In this episode, we've dancedwith shadows and whispered to
(58:36):
the ghosts of lore, delving deepinto the heart of what makes us
human, our insatiable curiosityfor the mysteries that skirt
the boundaries of our reality.
So why fuss over ancient talesand creatures of the night?
It's simple, really.
These stories, these fragmentsof folklore handed down through
(58:57):
the ages, they're thewildflowers in the vast meadow
of human culture.
They thrive in the dark,nourished by our fears and
desires blooming into tales thatcaptivate, terrify and inspire.
They remind us that the worldis bigger, stranger and more
(59:17):
wonderful than we can possiblyimagine.
In the grand scheme of things,these stories are our way of
making sense of the darkness, offacing the vast unknown with
the defiant stare.
They're about finding light inthe darkest of places, about the
power of the human spirit toconfront and coexist with the
(59:37):
mysteries that surround us.
But here's the kicker what if,in peeling back the layers of
these tales, we find reflectionsof our own society, echoes of
our collective psyche?
What if, in exploring the eerieand the unexplained, we
discover not just tales of fearand wonder, but insights into
(01:00:02):
the very fabric of our being?
(01:01:06):
So, it is a very snowy day inDenver today as I'm recording
(01:01:29):
and editing, taking advantage ofthis snowstorm to crank out new
episodes for you.
I want to also remind any ofyou that our avid fans of
cinematic secrets, the dark sideof the silver screen, which is
our sister podcast on thisnetwork, are returning with a
brand new episode delving intoJoan Crawford, faye Dunaway Camp
(01:01:54):
and the incredible movie MommyDearest, which will be releasing
on Wednesday.
For this one, I will release itboth on the Windwalls can talk
platform as well as cinematicsecrets, just to remind you that
we're here again and that we'recreating podcast episodes on
both series.
We are obviously still on ourweekly cadence for Windwalls can
(01:02:17):
talk.
We are on a bi weekly cadencefor cinematic secrets and you
can look forward to a newepisode of monthly tarot magic
for the month of April, droppingon April 1st.
We also have began recordingthe next podcast that will be
joining our network, the RoyalRoad, legendary journeys and
drag pageantry, which will bedropping as a part of our pride
(01:02:39):
celebration during the month ofJune.
Each podcast will celebrate thequeer community in some way,
shape or form once we arrive toJune.
So I'm I have a lot going on anda lot that we're working
towards for you guys.
So follow us on Instagram atwhen walls can talk, with
underscores for spaces.
We're on tick tock.
We're on Facebook as a Facebookgroup.
(01:03:02):
We also have an email listthat's linked in the bottom of
your show notes here, so getinvolved.
Let us know your stories.
If you would like to submit astory towards a listener episode
in the future, you can emailthose to Jeremy at
whenwallscantalktarotcom.
Thank you for listening.
If you're in Denver, enjoy thesnow, and I will catch you on
(01:03:24):
Wednesday with our next episodeof cinematic secrets.
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