Europe's Last Peasant Culture

  Sighetu Marmatiei, Romania
Monday, October 22, 2007

Agatha Christie would like Romanian trains. Travelling through the mountains, they quite often go through tunnels and are submerged into total darkness for several minutes. Any number of people could be knocked off in this time.

Bucolicness

Travelling from Suceava to Romania's Maramures region was like coming home for Christmas, except that I generally fly home for Christmas these days, and there often isn't snow involved. We left Suceava in a light drizzle, Monika having driven us to the train station, insisting it was a terrible morning to be walking. Settled into our cozy compartment (Romanian trains are quite well heated) Matt (yep, still travelling with him) fell into conversation with the old man sitting next to him. Simple enough, except that the man spoke only Romanian and Russian, and Matt's proficiency at any language other than English is less than conversational. Instead, the man spoke to the woman across from him in Romanian. She then spoke to me in French, and I spoke to Matt in English. Takes a long time to have a conversation, but we didn't have anything better to do.

Bucoliness 2

Leaving Suceava, we climbed into the Carpathian Mountains and entered a winter wonderland: snow covered firs, small cottages with smoke curling out of the chimneys, sheep with two white coats. We couldn't stop marveling at the beauty of it all or trying to capture it with our cameras. Each valley was more beautiful than the last.

Eventually, we descend back to rain, being dropped off in the railroad junction village of Salva. Talk about a one horse town. We walk the length of the place, finding only a small convenience store. In another hour and a half, our train to Sighetu Marmatiei pulls in and carries us further north.

Small Town and Church

It is long past dark when Florin, Monika's Maramures contact meets us at the station. We pile into his car for the twenty-minute ride to his countryside pensione.

 The Maramures countryside is supposed to be stunning, but without our own wheels, it will be difficult to visit. Fortunately, Florin does tours, but what to see? The details are discussed over glasses of homemade Tuica, plum brandy. By his own accounts, Florin's concoction is somewhere above 100 proof, and sipping it straight without faces, chasers, or involuntary shudders proves a challenge of politeness. In my opinion, any alcohol over 35% is meant to be mixed or shot. None of this sipping business.

Traditional Horsecart

In the morning, Florin takes us out to see his country. Several times, we make him pull over to snap photos or to just traipse around in nature's glory. We pass gods and a shepherd, actively herding sheep, countless horse carts, laden with alfalfa and hay, and people everywhere in traditional dress, men in funny fez-like straw hats.

Maramures is known for its wood crafts and they are omnipresent. We visit three old wooden churches, dating back hundreds of years with spires reaching for the heavens. We also visit a

Another Wooden Church

recently built monastic complex which was nice enough to almost make me consider becoming a nun. Suppose Romanian nuns have to learn Romanian, though. Our final religious stop is a church under construction, aiming to be the highest wood structure in Europe at 75m. A nun (they have such friendly nuns in Romania!) opens the basement chapel for us and we explore the unfinished parts of the church upstairs. These Orthodox churches consist of three rooms: the anti-nave, the nave, and the alter, which again I am doubly prevented from entering on account of my gender and religion, but I can peak in.

New Monastery Complex

Also on our tour, Florin stops at a famous wood carver's. His works are quite impressive, including several huge gates. These gates were originally built by royal landowners to ward off evil, a symbolic barrier between the safe interior and the unknown outside world. Today, they often front common houses as a sign of wealth and social status. They remind me of the large gates in front of Wyoming ranches, though perhaps with a different rustic feel.

Romanian Washing Machine

We also visit a Romanian washing machine. Part of a water-wheel run mill, when the mill is not in use, the water is diverted to a huge wood slated vat. It swirls around before continuing downstream, washing any rugs, carpets, or curtains in the vat. Very cool, in an engineer-y way.

Our final Maramures visit is to the Merry Cemetery, created by Ioan Stan Patras beginning in 1935. Crosses mark each grave with witty epitaphs to the deceased beneath them. Also included is a painting of the deceased, generally carrying out his or her daily occupations. Mothers cook, weavers bend over looms, and shepherds tend their sheep. I even find a veterinarian. A few graves, however, bear pictures of how their occupants died. I found these made the place significantly less merry. I particularly didn't like a three-year-old being knocked off by a car. How could you visit your child's grave with a picture like that? Before his death in 1977, Patras painted his own cross and today, his apprentice carries on his tradition.

Just Beautiful

As any good pensione host, Florin feeds us dinner (no where else to get food within 5 km) complete with more Tuica. We contemplate pouring it back into the container once he's left or watering the fake plants (a little alcohol wouldn't hurt them). We finally shoot it during the main course, amid grimaces, coughs, and shudders. Next time, I'll just stick with Romanian beer.