Zalau's city forest, the Padurea Orasului, is the green lung on the edge of town, and it is the sort of place that people in the town use without thinking about it: for Sunday walks, mushrooming, running, and picnics under the oaks. It is a stretch of managed woodland on the slopes above the town, with paths, a few clearings and views down over the roofs.
The forest tells you something about the geology. Salaj sits on soft sedimentary hills, sandstone and marl, which erode into rounded ridges and sticky clay soils, and it is cut by streams that flow west to the Crasna and the Somes. In the shade of the beeches the ground is spongy with leaves, while the oaks on the drier slopes let in more light. Hazel, hornbeam and wild pear grow along the edges. Squirrels, jays and deer live here, and the dawn chorus in May is loud.
Zalau itself is a town you may be glad of. It grew in the twentieth century as an administrative and industrial centre, and its centre has some interwar and Habsburg-era buildings, a large Reformed church and a modern civic core. It has a good reputation for handball. The Hungarian poet Endre Ady went to school here, and the Reformed college where he studied still stands. The town has a mixed population of Romanians and Hungarians, and you will hear both languages on the street.
For riders, the town is the place to refuel and to eat. Restaurants serve ciorba, a sour soup, and grilled meats, and cafes along the main street are pleasant for a rest. Roads out of town lead west into the Crasna valley, east to the Meses range, and north toward Porolissum, with gentle gradients and light traffic. Cobbles are rare, but potholes in side streets can be sharp.
The forest is at its best in late April and October, when the leaves are fresh or gold.