Unique in Romania for its perfectly circular layout, the village of Charlottenburg — like other Banat settlements founded during the Habsburg Empire — was once home to Danube Swabians who arrived here in the 18th century. Today, it stands largely depopulated, abandoned by the descendants of its founders.

Declared a historical monument, the village in the Timis plain reveals its full beauty only from above. According to local legend, a winged sorcerer, jealous that the settlement did not bear his name, cast a spell so that its beauty could only be seen by those riding flying creatures — dragons. In reality, the village's striking circular form can indeed only be fully appreciated from the air, whether by plane or drone.

At the local post office, we met the last Swabian still living in the 'round village,' Peter Trimper. One of eight siblings, he is the only one who remained. The others married and left for Germany decades ago. He stayed behind with his parents — and never visited them, for fear he might never return.

'I am the only Swabian left in Charlottenburg,' he says. 'In 1771, General Johann Altringen brought 32 German settler families here, from across the Habsburg Empire — from South Tyrol, Alsace-Lorraine, Baden-Wurttemberg, Austria, Bavaria. By 1970, there were still 110 Germans and around 100 Hungarians here and in nearby Altringen. About 82% of the population was Catholic. The first German left in 1973. Back then, the only Romanian in the village was the gendarme. We were eight siblings; seven left for Germany. I never did. I stayed with my parents. I have never been to Germany — because I know I would not have come back.'

Now 88, Trimper follows a daily ritual: he walks to the post office, reads the German-language newspaper Allgemeine Deutsche Zeitung, then engages in long discussions with the postman and locals — about politics, about what he calls 'the chaos in government,' about the lack of unity, and about the difficult times people are living through.

He also tends to the village's Catholic church — shared, in a spirit of quiet coexistence, with Orthodox worshippers. He rings the bells, looks after the Swabian cemeteries, and carries within him the living memory of the place.

He is extremely upset with city dwellers who buy a house or a plot of land in the village and then build new homes as they please, alter traditional houses, or put up fences at the front of properties that extend beyond established street alignments. He says this behaviour is destroying the very identity that gave Charlottenburg its status as a historic monument.

'The village was built in a circle, with a diameter of 210 metres,' he explains. 'At the centre there was a well, surrounded by mulberry trees. Then came the church — only one, Catholic. Later, some families cleared the mulberries and built houses. The old school dates from 1890, the church from 1875-1876. Now only four or five local families remain. Others have come from the city, turning houses into holiday homes. I hear the authorities want to restore the historic village — but what is there left to restore? The property next to the post office has been bought. It used to be a barn, but it was purchased by a forestry brigadier. After 1990, he modernised the house, and the fence was pushed beyond the street alignment (...). The main culprit was the mayor at the time, who allowed such alterations. It is unsightly. Our village used to be without fences. There were no fences in front of houses. Now he owns land right up to the ditch. And he is building something else,' the local man says, visibly distressed.

Each day begins with pain — in his legs, from age, and from a stomach ulcer. Still, he makes his way to the post office.

'I've been left with only the German newspaper, after a friend who used to subscribe to Renasterea Banateana moved away. Services are held twice a month,' he says. 'Orthodox priests come from Bogda, Catholic ones from Lipova. But only four or five people attend. At Easter and Christmas, there are a few more.'

We leave him talking with the postman, Gheorghe Dunca, as two small white dogs tumble in the muddy grass. At the entrance to the post office, a mulberry stump serves as a makeshift seat — in a way a reminder of Moromete's world (the protagonist of the novel Morometii by Marin Preda, a symbol of the traditional peasantry of the Danube Plain, editor's note).

Dunca himself covers six villages, cycling or driving nearly 25 kilometres a day to deliver letters and bills.

'I came here in 1995 and stayed,' he says. 'Back then, there was a manual telephone exchange — you would crank the phone, connect through Masloc, and then reach another village. Today, people still come for their mail. And Peter comes every day, reads his newspaper, and then starts the debates.'

Part of the Swabian heritage survives in a small ethnographic museum, Schwabenland, set up in a house dating back to 1905. Inside, visitors find traditional interiors — kitchen, guest room, bread oven, cellars — alongside costumes, heavy wooden furniture and handmade textiles.

Here, travellers can taste Swabian cuisine: schnitzel with mashed potatoes and pickles, followed by apple strudel.

Nearby, Mircea Sirbu, a local host from the guesthouse near the round village, is preparing for the upcoming Banat - European Region of Gastronomy 2028, offering traditional Romanian dishes that delight the taste buds with unforgettable flavours.

'We are offering local dishes, everything freshly picked and freshly prepared. The Swabians of Charlottenburg had their own specific foods - potato dumplings topped with cheese, and Schmarrn (beaten eggs with flour, then fried), served with plum compote. On the Romanian side, we had a tradition: meat was eaten only at the weekend. On Saturdays, a chicken would be slaughtered; the offal was used to make a paprika stew, while the rest of the meat was kept for Sunday - chicken soup with dumplings and vegetables, followed by breaded meat with boiled potatoes and tomato sauce. For Banat - European Region of Gastronomy, we offer sarmale, chicken soup with noodles or semolina dumplings, and for dessert we have pumpkin pies, baked pumpkin, lard rolls, and scoverzi. In spring, our forests are a paradise for wild garlic, which we use in salads, soups and sauces,' Mircea Sirbu explains.

From him we learned that many foreign hunters come to the forests around Charlottenburg, drawn by small game, birds, wild boar and mouflon.

As we leave, we find Peter Trimper once more outside the post office. Spring has brought a faint smile to his face. He jokes about a local man who always manages to find his way home from the pub, no matter how much he drinks — because, as Trimper puts it, 'the village is round' and has only one street. AGERPRES (RO - writing by: Otilia Halunga; EN - writing by: Simona Iacob)