Life at Post
Under the Romanian Sun
Christine LeBlein
Summer is usually the favorite time of year for expatriate communities to fly back to their home countries, or to escape to the exoticism of new travel destinations. Posted to Bucharest, Romania, a year ago, my family and I had been struck particularly when we arrived by the dramatic absence of foreigners there that summer - and by the number of Bucharest residents who had deserted the city,as well! Curiously, unlike other European capitals such as Paris, Rome or London, this seasonal population disappearance did not seem to be compensated for by an influx of tourists. Bucharest receives its fair share of visitors, of course, but not enough to make us feel that the city we are living in is on the verge of becoming a hot spot for international tourism. In the same vein as many of our fellow expatriates, our family has usually opted for enjoying summer vacations back in Canada... at least until this year. This year, we decided that Romania would be the destination of choice for our summer holidays. The end of the school year, therefore, was marked for us by a strong feeling of being "left behind" by all our friends who were going back to Canada, France or the United States. We were left with only one option: surviving the next two months of the French "grandes vacances" with two children under the Romanian sun! Kind words from the ones who were departing to purportedly "better horizons" were far from encouraging. There were countless stories of the previous summers’ long days of scorching heat in Bucharest, as well as the gloomy perspective of turning into social hermits, little by little, in a deserted Bucharest ex-pat community. Clearly, according to all accounts, only mindless people could hope to enjoy their time in the Romanian capital with a young family. Although most of the predictions proved true - we had an incredibly sunny, and extremely hot summer, and Bucharest did become, from the end of June to mid-August, almost a paradise for drivers - despite everything, our Romanian summer experience ended up being a very positive and relaxing one.
With daily temperatures averaging 32 degrees Celsius and an almost complete lack of rain for two months, Bucharest - and most of Romania - quickly showed signs of a drought, devastating for country farming. News programmes reported daily temperatures by assigning orange or red codes to Romanian counties ("red" denoting temperatures reaching over 40 degrees Celsius). Bucharest recorded some of the highest temperatures in Europe, closely followed by Belgrade , Athens, Budapest, Sofia and Zagreb. With no relief from rain in sight, Bucharest inhabitants - and those in the rest of the country - resorted to the old-fashioned habit of wearing straw hats, drinking plenty of water, and staying home for most of the day. Bucharest streets then strangely resembled major Canadian city streets during a major cold snap (when pedestrians rarely venture outside unless required). As for us, our heat wave survival strategy consisted of purchasing a membership in the neighborhood swimming pool, which became our headquarters as well as our oasis; it's amazing how cooling a 32 degree Celsius pool can feel when outside temperatures reach 43! Nonetheless, we did not let extreme heat put a dent in our desire and summer plans to explore a bit more of the Romanian countryside. The moral support of an adventurous Canadian friend from Quebec who came to visit and travel with us for almost a month of discovery was of benefit, too.
One thing we were sure of: there would be no shortage of sun during our forays out from the capital! Confident that the weather was on our side, we headed towards Transylvania , the central region of Romania which is bordered by the Carpathian Mountains and covered by large forests. Our idea was to explore the Saxon citadels between the three major Transylvanian-Saxon cities of Sibiu , Sighisoara and Brasov. No trip to Transylvania would be complete, however, without visiting at least one of the various famous places where Vlad Tepes (Dracula) might have spent a night or two on his way to fight the Turks. Our first stopover was at the city of Poianeri, which is considered by true Dracula-fans as the "real Dracula's castle". Dramatically situated at the top of a mountain, access to what now are mostly ruins of the citadel is accomplished by climbing some 1,400 steps. Quite enough to make us realize that we were out of shape, the climb enabled us to more fully appreciate -- from the top -- the magnificent view over the distant Fagaras Mountains.
After having immersed ourselves for a couple of hours in the details of Romania 's bloodthirsty and fighting history against invaders, we decided to reach Sibiu by crossing the mountains via the Transfagarasan road. One of Ceausescu's grand projects, it is now Romania's highest asphalt road. While it allowed passengers to be awed by breathtaking scenery, our driver (my husband) was focused entirely on the winding road whose shoulders seemed to sometimes flirt dangerously with the edge of a cliff. Safe and sound, however, we reached our first destination: Sibiu. Sibiu is a pretty and well-preserved city, named in 2007 as the European Capital of Culture. We immediately fell under the charm of the lively atmosphere there, with its romantic cobblestone streets and the interlocking squares (piata), as well as the well-preserved, colorful houses of this medieval Saxon city where German is still widely spoken by its inhabitants. After two days of attempting to capture the heart of Sibiu through our digital cameras, we left this enchanting place to "discover" the fortified Saxon churches which stand as reminders of a population’s attempts in the 15th and 16th centuries to defend its towns against the threat of Turkish invasion. With more than 30 such fortified churches spread in between Sibiu , Sighisoara and Brasov, we followed our travel guide's advice and decided to visit only the most accessible ones ( i.e., the ones linked by what could be considered a road!). Thus, we ended up in small villages where sometimes the key of the church was kept under the (close and reliable) surveillance of the city mayor living across the street. In most of the places we visited, tourists were rare and foreigners even more of an oddity. We always felt welcomed, however, by the villagers who even sometimes tried (as in Viscris) to give us a hand in finding the guard and the key! In some instances, it felt like we were going back in time, as in Slimnick, where we discovered a "living" citadel inhabited by various farm animals... it was quite different from the atmosphere traditionally associated with historical monuments elsewhere! The guard kindly explained to us that our contribution (entrance fees) would not only be used to maintain the site, but to feed the animals, as well! Before reaching our next destination for the night, we stopped by the town of Biertan , well-known for its spectacular citadel which, from a distance, could make you think you'd found the castle of Sleeping Beauty. Our Quebec friend was slowly falling under the bucolic charms of the place, as well as the treacherous accent of the blonde princess-like woman at the entrance of the fortress who was advertising her art- and- craft souvenir shop in the village! We decided to cut this romance short by heading on to a different Transylvanian beauty: the city of Sighisoara. Arriving through the main gate of this fortified city, we felt like we were entering a miniature town. The many renovations to streets and squares added to the sensation of "narrowness". Sighisoara is reputed to be one of the most beautiful medieval Saxon cities in Romania, and this little fortified city - the birthplace of Vlad Tepes (Dracula) - definitely measures up to its reputation of being one of the jewels of Transylvania. Although in the summer Sighisoara tends to be a tourist magnet, its charm and enchanting atmosphere remains well-preserved from modernization and mass tourism. Here you can spend hours in the maze of cobblestone streets, discovering 16th century houses and numerous churches open and waiting for visitors on almost every street corner, as well as guessing which group of craftsmen inhabited the various city quarters based on the street names you encounter. Each profession had its guild and workshops safely sheltered within the citadel. As do most of the Saxon fortified cities, Sighisoara bears a Romanian, German (Schassburg) and Hungarian name (Segesvar), reflecting Transylvania's fluctuating ethnic dominance as well as the historical turmoil of the region.
We were almost at the end of our Transylvanian sojourn when we arrived at Brasov, known in German as Kronstadt ("Crown City") because it is believed that the city was built after discovering a crown in a tree there. Brasov is the most visited city in Romania and is sometimes considered as the Prague of Romania. There is already in Brasov the feeling of being closer to Bucharest , as you are suddenly surrounded by more "trendy" people whose fashion style seems more geared to outdoor patios of the numerous restaurants and cafes of the old city than to outdoor activities in the nearby mountains. Despite being only three hours from Bucharest, Brasov - with its sturdy walls and towers - offers all the features of a true, fortified Saxon city. During Saxon times, only ethnic German inhabitants were allowed to live inside the protective city walls while Romanians had their own neighborhood outside of them called the Schei Quarter. Although a major medieval trade center, one of the dominant historical landmarks of the city is the Black Church (Biserica neagra) whose imposing Gothic structure and black color (due to a fire in the 18th century) make it a "must" to visit. To our surprise, this Lutheran church owns one of the largest Turkish carpet collections outside of Turkey. Brought back from the trading expeditions of Transylvanian merchants in Istanbul, they were given as gifts to grace the church's interior. This harmonious mix of the finest Ottoman carpets and the severity of the Lutheran architecture reminded us, again, of the endless power struggles between civilizations that have been occurring for centuries, as well as the unavoidable cross-cultural influences in the region. Returning to Bucharest, we left the relatively chilly 35 degrees of the Carpathians to be greeted again by the high heat of that city. Rumors warned that even the Romanian Secret Service was involved in the heat wave! The daily newspaper, "Gardianul", stated in a very serious article that for reasons of State secrecy, the Romanian Intelligence Service ( SRI) had prohibited the publication of weather forecasts in Romania for the months of July and August to avoid informing inhabitants that "a deadly heat will hit Romania in the coming period". The SRI, of course, denied that news story, having to explain that "the SRI 's competence, attributes and responsibilities were in the domain of national security", not meteorology. While this exchange seemed to us to be simply poor journalism, it actually resonated throughout the population as a reminder of the censorship and absolute control of the infamous and once-powerful Securitate (the former Security Services under Ceaucescu's dictatorship) over the country, thus turning excessive heat into a potential threat to freedom of information.
Though August arrived, there were still no signs of relief on the temperature front. For our last week of vacation, we decided to head up north to Bucovina. This region, bordering the Ukraine , is famous for its medieval painted monasteries (designated " World Heritage" by UNESCO in 1993) as well as for its bucolic country scenery and its inhabitants' traditional way of living. So, we left the sweltering heat of Bucharest in search of refreshment for body and soul in the monasteries' archipelago. After eight hours of a nerve-wracking drive (Romanian roads!), we reached our "base camp" in the region: a newly-built tourist complex surrounded by fields and farms whose roosters prevented us from being idle in the morning. As we hit the road early to visit our first regional monastery that morning, we noticed the beautiful Ukrainian-style wooden houses there, as well as the rising number of LADA four-wheel drive vehicles on the roads. These are clear reminders of borders and once-shared history with Ukrainians. Romania 's Bucovina indeed represents the southern part of a region which extends into that country. Once under Austro-Hungarian rule, it was returned to Romania in 1918 and then annexed by the Soviet Union in 1940 until later, at the end of the Soviet Union, it became part of Ukrainia. Despite Bucovina 's troubled history, one 16th century character remains vastly popular in the region: Stefan Cel Mare (Stephen the Great). Most of the fortified monasteries in the region have been erected under his or his son, Petru Rares's, reign. Still deeply revered by Romanians, as is evident by the displays of fervor around his grave in the Putna monastery, his name symbolizes the strong and unyielding Romanian-Christian Orthodox faith. To say that Romanians are religious is probably an understatement. Even in the capital city of Bucharest, people still will not pass in front of a church without making a sign of the cross. Either by superstition or faith, customs die hard despite years of Communism and the rising signs of materialism and consumerism everywhere. For many Romanians, visiting the painted monasteries in Bucovina is considered a pilgrimage. Our first day of carefully planned monastery visits, however, had to be quickly adapted to accommodate regional road conditions. The overwhelming heat wave had the disastrous consequence of triggering serious thunderstorms, which were followed quickly by heavy downpours. Many bridges and roads in the region were thus washed away completely, leaving inhabitants and tourists (like us) to detour our way on over treacherous roads. Restricted to 20 km per hour, we could not help but admire the quaint hamlets we drove through with cattle grazing peacefully by the roadside while entire families were lying in the shade outside their houses, utterly unaware of a different pace of life. Wherever we turned our gaze, we were surrounded by large forests and small hillsides which, from a distance, gave the impression of slowly going down a green, velvety carpet. After two hours of pure pastoral charm (unperceived by our 5- and 7-year old children), we stopped in the town of Humor for lunch and finally visited our first and only monastery for the day. Despite being very open to tourists, visiting monasteries remains a religious and devout act where "decent dress" is expected of visitors. Curiously, men are required to cover their legs, while women are only required to cover their shoulders!. Some kind of long skirts were provided at the entrance of most monasteries for men "unwise" enough to wear Bermuda shorts on a 35 degree Celsius day (as this could potentially disturb the religious efficiency of the monastery's congregation). This double-standard had the effect of leaving a lot of men looking like monks, while their few female counterparts with pronounced cleavages and short dresses could pursue their visits untroubled!
The 16th century monastery of Humor amazed us with its predominantly red exterior frescoes, dedicated to the Holy Virgin. Each of the fortified monasteries in Bucovina displays its own distinct colour which, despite time and weather, has been well-preserved up to now. The vibrant red of Humor, the unequalled blue of Voronet and the deep green of Sucevita were all made out of natural dyes whose secrets have not been fully deciphered yet. The exterior frescoes of these monasteries, in their cartoon-like style, were actually used to provide religious education to the illiterate peasants of the region who could not understand most of the Slavic liturgy. Mostly depicting the lives of the revered of the monastery, as well as picturing the Judgment Day, frescoes played the role of moral safeguards and teachers. Despite being subjected to the fervor of locals and tourists, these monasteries remain as true religious places, inhabited by lively communities of relatively young nuns or monks whose presence contributes to the charm and picturesque-ness of the sites. Unfortunately, after four days of enjoying Bucovina's painted beauties and appeasing countryside, we resigned ourselves to saying goodbye to this amazing part of Romania and returning to the hustle and bustle of Bucharest, all too aware of "summer’s end" approaching.
Labor Day weekend was looming and marked for us – as for the majority of Canadians -- the psychological end of summer. We chose to celebrate this seasonal milestone by going hiking for two days in the nearby Bucegi Mountains. As this area is at an elevation of more than 2,000 meters, we decided to give our children their first real hiking experience on a well-marked and plateau-like trail. For two hours we walked "in the clouds". Despite the poor weather, mostly cloudy and cold, our children seemed to enjoy the experience, declaring themselves "cloud-eaters"; apparently clouds at this altitude taste like vanilla! After this initial cold and damp experience of the mountain, we indulged ourselves with warmly satisfying "ciorba" (Romanian soup) at the "cabana" (mountain refuge) where we spent the night. The dramatic view over the Bucegi Mountains inbetween two waves of clouds was enough to make us forget the ordinariness of our night shelter and eagerly look forward to our next escape from Bucharest to these cloudy mountains. Although summer holidays are definitely over now and the children are back at school, we look forward to the fall season, too... under the Romanian sun!
Christine Le Blein is currently posted in Bucharest, Romania, with her husband and two children. She enjoyes writing about and sharing her Romanian experiences, as well as being a translator for The FSCA Bulletin. She would like to take this opportunity to encourage FSCA members who have talent and interest in French to consider volunteering for translation of the Bulletin.