During the last few weeks I spent in Romania, I began talking about some of the things I most liked about the country and its people, thinking I would make it one of my closing blogs. The idea for the list came on a lovely June day when I was invited to attend a picnic along with a group of 10th graders -- and that delightful outing became the first one of the things I most liked about Romania.
When Romanians go on a picnic, I'd learned, they don't take hampers full of prepared food. Instead, they take packages of meats (usually chicken breasts and seasoned ground pork called mici), the ingredients for a vegetable salad, a bag of potatoes, and whatever else is on the menu. They also bring bowls, knives, cutting boards, etc., and head out to the picnic site. Some make the fire, first hauling twigs and logs from surrounding woods; others prepare the food, which can take all afternoon, but no matter. The point is to share a meal together out of doors, not to spend time in the kitchen, preparing dishes to eat in the woods.
• So, the next thing I really like about Romania is that almost any event is an excuse for a party -- the first and last weeks of school, the first day of spring, the opening of a new library, the unexpected arrival of an old friend, time to roast eggplants in the fall, the close of a successful civic project. Whatever it is, Romanians will spontaneously turn it into a party.
• The next thing is that there are fewer regulations -- students organized our June picnic and recruited parents to drive them; a few teachers went along, but there was limited supervision. Students needed no permission slips, nor did teachers need certification for fire safety, supervising outdoor cooking, or driving students to a school event.
• People take responsibility for themselves -- the sidewalks may be slippery in winter, but if you fall in front of a store or your apartment, it's your fault, not that of the building owner. Similarly, there were no lifeguards at the local pool, children got themselves safely home from school, and we assumed at our own risk when attending an exercise class,
• People have a close connection to the soil -- almost everyone has a garden, either behind their house or bloc or at a grandparent's home in a neighboring village. They grow a lot of their own food, preserve it as jams or pickles or zacusca (a sublime vegetable compote, cooked over an open fire), make wine or palinka, and store the rest in root cellars.
• There are flowers everywhere -- people grow them in their gardens, hang them from their balconies, sit under them at restaurants, thank teachers with bouquets of them, walk under an arch of them at commencement. Further, profusions of plants adorn most every school I entered.
• Romanians have a great sense of style -- traditional homes complement the landscape, modern ones sport highly geometric glass and wooden doors, windows, and porches. Contemporary furnishings are equally adventuresome. Plus, people know how to put themselves together; by the time they are teenagers, girls have figured out their personal sense of style -- how to wear their hair and dress to the greatest possible advantage. Cooks know how to arrange food to entice the eye before the tongue; napkins grace tables, folded so they stand on end.
• They are tolerant and nonjudgmental -- seldom did I hear one person disparage another, either individually or collectively. Some families have money and others don't, but I was never aware of a social-sorting system. Though Romania is fairly homogeneous, the are Turks in the south, Serbs and Slovak in the west, Hungarians and others in Transylvania; though ethnic communities may maintain their identity, individuals work and attend school together, and they often intermarry. (An exception to this, alas, are the Rroma, or gypsies, who live in separate neighborhoods, provide essential but low-skilled services, and get blamed for all manner of modestly anti-social acts – petty thievery and the like. I tended to be suspicious of such accusations.)
• Romanians are generous, almost to a fault -- I recall reading a story by the noted Romanian-American writer Andre Codrescu, who told of a typical visit to a Romanian family; after hours of eating the host's food and drinking their homemade wine and palinka, the guest leaves burdened by the clothing and cakes his host, now sans coat and victuals, has insisted he carry off. I had this experience so often -- or modest versions thereof -- that I often refrained from giving house gifts for fear of being given too much in return.
Reasons abound to love Romania, but the last one to be mentioned here is the great variety and general loveliness of the landscape. Romania has it all -- a seacoast and great sandy beaches, ancient hills covered with vineyards, a delta and wetlands, the Carpathian Mountains that circle across the country's midsection, numerous rivers flowing in all directions, and -- my favorite-- the bare yet powerful hills of western Transylvania. Spending two years there -- relishing the food, the vistas, the culture, and the people -- was not only a joy but a privilege. Thanks to all the many Romanians who made my stay there so pleasant; and for the rest of you, go visit yourselves!
When Romanians go on a picnic, I'd learned, they don't take hampers full of prepared food. Instead, they take packages of meats (usually chicken breasts and seasoned ground pork called mici), the ingredients for a vegetable salad, a bag of potatoes, and whatever else is on the menu. They also bring bowls, knives, cutting boards, etc., and head out to the picnic site. Some make the fire, first hauling twigs and logs from surrounding woods; others prepare the food, which can take all afternoon, but no matter. The point is to share a meal together out of doors, not to spend time in the kitchen, preparing dishes to eat in the woods.
• So, the next thing I really like about Romania is that almost any event is an excuse for a party -- the first and last weeks of school, the first day of spring, the opening of a new library, the unexpected arrival of an old friend, time to roast eggplants in the fall, the close of a successful civic project. Whatever it is, Romanians will spontaneously turn it into a party.
• The next thing is that there are fewer regulations -- students organized our June picnic and recruited parents to drive them; a few teachers went along, but there was limited supervision. Students needed no permission slips, nor did teachers need certification for fire safety, supervising outdoor cooking, or driving students to a school event.
• People take responsibility for themselves -- the sidewalks may be slippery in winter, but if you fall in front of a store or your apartment, it's your fault, not that of the building owner. Similarly, there were no lifeguards at the local pool, children got themselves safely home from school, and we assumed at our own risk when attending an exercise class,
• People have a close connection to the soil -- almost everyone has a garden, either behind their house or bloc or at a grandparent's home in a neighboring village. They grow a lot of their own food, preserve it as jams or pickles or zacusca (a sublime vegetable compote, cooked over an open fire), make wine or palinka, and store the rest in root cellars.
• There are flowers everywhere -- people grow them in their gardens, hang them from their balconies, sit under them at restaurants, thank teachers with bouquets of them, walk under an arch of them at commencement. Further, profusions of plants adorn most every school I entered.
• Romanians have a great sense of style -- traditional homes complement the landscape, modern ones sport highly geometric glass and wooden doors, windows, and porches. Contemporary furnishings are equally adventuresome. Plus, people know how to put themselves together; by the time they are teenagers, girls have figured out their personal sense of style -- how to wear their hair and dress to the greatest possible advantage. Cooks know how to arrange food to entice the eye before the tongue; napkins grace tables, folded so they stand on end.
• They are tolerant and nonjudgmental -- seldom did I hear one person disparage another, either individually or collectively. Some families have money and others don't, but I was never aware of a social-sorting system. Though Romania is fairly homogeneous, the are Turks in the south, Serbs and Slovak in the west, Hungarians and others in Transylvania; though ethnic communities may maintain their identity, individuals work and attend school together, and they often intermarry. (An exception to this, alas, are the Rroma, or gypsies, who live in separate neighborhoods, provide essential but low-skilled services, and get blamed for all manner of modestly anti-social acts – petty thievery and the like. I tended to be suspicious of such accusations.)
• Romanians are generous, almost to a fault -- I recall reading a story by the noted Romanian-American writer Andre Codrescu, who told of a typical visit to a Romanian family; after hours of eating the host's food and drinking their homemade wine and palinka, the guest leaves burdened by the clothing and cakes his host, now sans coat and victuals, has insisted he carry off. I had this experience so often -- or modest versions thereof -- that I often refrained from giving house gifts for fear of being given too much in return.
Reasons abound to love Romania, but the last one to be mentioned here is the great variety and general loveliness of the landscape. Romania has it all -- a seacoast and great sandy beaches, ancient hills covered with vineyards, a delta and wetlands, the Carpathian Mountains that circle across the country's midsection, numerous rivers flowing in all directions, and -- my favorite-- the bare yet powerful hills of western Transylvania. Spending two years there -- relishing the food, the vistas, the culture, and the people -- was not only a joy but a privilege. Thanks to all the many Romanians who made my stay there so pleasant; and for the rest of you, go visit yourselves!
