Learn to Embrace a Slower Lifestyle at This Traditional Saxon Farm in Transylvania

Having visited Romanian cities like Brasov, Bucharest, and Sibiu before, I had asked the tour operator Untamed Travelling to bring me to Transylvania’s more local side. The bespoke tour operator connected me with Adelina and her husband Ionuț, who curated a weekend in Viscri based on my preference for a slower, more nature-oriented stay in Transylvania. Since Untamed specializes in atypical itineraries that emphasize more local experiences, it was right up my alley.

That’s how I found myself at the dinner table with Adelina and Ionuț, who had just shared a familiar embrace with the farm’s cook, as one might do with a cherished family member.

“This is Mama Vio,” Adelina said. “She loves to cook. You will see.”

I didn’t know it yet, but I was about to have the best meal of the entire trip.

No-frills, no problem

Photo: TravelArte

Viscri 125 is a traditional Saxon homestead with old barns, restored houses, and gardens that supply much of Mama Vio’s produce. The property became a guesthouse for much the same reason that I wanted to visit: the owners, Mihai and Raluca Grigore, were looking to move away from city chaos and embrace a simpler, more tranquil lifestyle.

“We wanted to leave Bucharest, where we both worked in corporate jobs, and discovered the village of Viscri, which we knew nothing about,” Mihai says.

In 2006, they bought the old Saxon house, began restoring it, and opened it as a guesthouse in 2011.

Staying at a traditional Saxon farm means rooms without frills. You won’t find TVs, sofas, or waterfall showers here, but that’s the whole point. So often, hotels do everything they can to make guests forget they’re away from home. They distract you with amenities you’ll probably never use, and have all the character of a hospital waiting room. At Viscri 125, you’ll get a soft bed, modern bathroom, and wooden furnishings that serve a functional purpose. But that’s it. There’s no mistaking that you’re in a Saxon homestead in rural Transylvania. To me, that’s more appealing than smart lighting.

Shortly after I arrived, Ionuț advised me to go outside at night and listen. Just listen.

“In the city there are always noises,” he told me. “Cars. People. Trash cans. Air conditioners. Out here, it’s quiet, especially at night. So when you do hear something, it means something is happening. Maybe a bird knocked a branch out of a tree. A crackling next door tells you a neighbor has made a fire. Or a hammer means the blacksmith is at work.”

Viscri made me realize how little we listen. Or, maybe, it just brought into focus how few things in our daily lives are actually worth hearing.

Embrace the quiet life

Photo: TravelArte

It’s not surprising that this town of under 500 people is eminently walkable, but perhaps more surprising that there are actually a lot of places worth walking to. From Viscri 125, a trail leads through the orchards behind the property into peaceful farmland, and up a hill with sweeping views of the Transylvania Highlands. It curls back into town around the corner from the Viscri Fortified Church, a UNESCO World Heritage Site that dates back to the 12th century. It was built by the Transylvanian Saxons, and used as a defensive structure as well as a community gathering space. Climb to the top of the Bacon Tower for the best view in Viscri.

After enjoying a farm-to-table lunch at Viscri 32 (yes, it’s the restaurant’s address), I walked over to deVIscri – a cafe, library, and ceramics shop. deViscri’s origins are much the same as Viscri 125. It was opened in 2025 by Irina Motroc and Tavi Anghelus, who worked stressful jobs in Bucharest and craved a quieter life in the countryside.

“We came to Viscri one weekend and stayed in a cabin,” Irina told me. “It rained the entire day. We slept all day and night, and the next morning we woke up like newborns, and realized that feeling of coziness is what life is all about.”

That’s when they decided to move to Viscri, restore the old property, and turn it into a cafe, library, and ceramics shop. The library is a particularly appealing space. Housed below the cafe and gift shop, its bookshelves are open for community lending, Motroc and Anghelus host book clubs there, and they even have a projector screen for movie nights.

deViscri. Photo: Eben Diskin

deViscri library. Photo: TravelArte

I was reminded of Ionuț’s words about listening. Motroc and Anghelus had to rewire their brains to do nothing, and I had to rewire mine to listen. Viscri itself seemed to be a place of rewiring and renewal, not from traditional wellness experiences, but rather the absence of luxury and the noise that comes with it. From the fortified church to the artful ceramics, everything that could be considered beautiful here had a functional purpose, which made it all the more beautiful.

That idea got hammered home (literally) when I visited Matei Gabor, a sixth-generation blacksmith in the village’s Romani neighborhood. When I showed up at his home, which doubles as a workshop, he was hammering away on a horseshoe. He explained how his blacksmithing techniques, and even the tools themselves, had been passed down through his family, and how his work is still very much in demand in Viscri.

Matei Gabor. Photo: Eben Diskin

Untamed Travelling arranged the visit for me through Adelina and Ionuț, but if you’re traveling independently, you can book a blacksmithing workshop with Matei on your own. He’ll show you the basics of his trade, and even guide you in crafting a small horseshoe to take home.

A home-cooked meal from Mama Vio

Ever since Raluca and Mihai Grigore opened their guesthouse in 2011, they’ve witnessed firsthand the transformation of Viscri into a sought-after retreat from city life. Even King Charles III kept a cottage here, and would visit regularly until it became a museum and art gallery in 2022. The locally-sourced food is a big part of that transformation. At Viscri 125, it’s all thanks to Mama Vio.

Mama Vio lives in the village nearby, and has been cooking at the guesthouse since it opened. She only cooks food she is also serving at her own home, and much like the blacksmith’s tools, that means family recipes passed down for generations (and meals that’ll rival your own grandmother’s).

“That’s Mama Vio. She loves to cook. You will see.”

Indeed, that was immediately obvious. After Adelina’s introduction, Mama Vio eagerly returned to the kitchen, and moments later gleefully returned with a platter of pork large enough to feed 16 people (there were four of us). I’ve never been a huge fan of pork, but ate a third of that platter entirely by myself. There were also meat-filled cabbage rolls, a Romanian staple.

Mama Vio’s home-cooked meal. Photo: Eben Diskin

The meal reminded me of a moment earlier that day, walking along the sleepy cobblestone street toward the Fortified Church. A van drove by blaring Beethoven’s “Fur Elise.” It stopped, and a dozen people emerged from their homes to gather around it.

“That’s the most sophisticated ice cream truck I’ve ever heard,” I said to Ionuț, who was walking beside me.

“It’s a produce truck,” he laughed. “They drive around selling produce from local farms. If people aren’t farmers themselves, it’s an easy way to get their vegetables.”

In a city, the song of a produce truck would be drowned out by traffic. A blacksmith’s traditional methods would be supplanted by more efficient, and louder, machinery. Mama Vio’s recipes would be warped by a commercial demand for scale. Spending a few nights at Viscri 125 won’t just teach you to listen. It’ll teach you to slow down. That’s why the Grigores, Irina and Tavi, and King Charles himself, found refuge and respite in Viscri.