Between Cities

This trip has been city to city with long train and bus rides between them.  Life here differs from ours somewhat and I found myself captivated. People live in one city very much like those in any other city. They dress like we do, drive cars, live in apartments. The real culture differences seem to lie in the rural areas. It is the Romanian countryside I fell in love with.  

If only the trains stopped just for me to take photographs.We rolled past the most beautiful green valleys, field after field of cultivated land between low hills in central Romania going to steeper mountains in the far north. All along there were older people alone or in very small groups hoeing corn or raking hay with long handled tools. Hay is stacked on a stack pole or draped over wide ladder racks. Wagonloads of hay are being transported and we pass wagon after horse drawn wagon. I notice they also make those poor horses pull logs. These rigs can often be seen in city streets and auto drivers are amazingly patient with them. No horns.

Houses in the rural areas are usually modest. Many are brick or stone plastered over,  red tile roofing and, in some areas, corrugated fiberglass. They all have enclosed yards with the usual flowers and small gardens. Many people grow grapes and have a cherry tree in the yard. Mowing grass is not high on the agenda anywhere in Romania and Bulgaria. I'm told that gates are a status symbol and some get incredibly decorative with iron and carved wood being popular choices. In Maramures, I see small houses with small yards, very simple and plain, yet the shed has the most elaborately carved double doors. Heading to Suceava where the mountains are steeper, log cabins start showing up. I notice that firewood is no longer in three foot lengths but cut more the size of our my own wood stove. I start to notice that wells show up in almost every yard and the same principle applies to them as to gates. Some are so elaborate they could be mistaken for little cathedrals.

The roads up north are rough and mountainous, five hours between Sighet and Suceava. I call these hail Mary highways because they just are. I know so because the monk a few seats in front of me crossed himself several times. I am reminded that there is no stop, drop and roll in the afterlife so a little faith on Romanian highways is a good thing. Worse is how stuffy the ride is on a sunny day. The old folks have a superstition that the draft from an open window invites evil in so the minibuses we ride are hot. When someone sweaty or drunk gets on, it can really get miserable.

The Merry Cemetery in Sapanta