Christmas with Mariana, the Winter Festival and back to Bucharest
Wow! What an incredible Christmas it's been!
It all began with a night train to Cluj, where I met Sonia. After a student breakfast of coffee, bread and nutella (I'd forgotten how good it is!), we hit the road and made it to Sighet in four and a half hours. Mariana was awaiting us with a huge lunch (the shape of things to come) and plenty of news, and her usual warmth and hospitality. Boy, was it cold! The sub-zero temperature hit me like a thwack in the chops - It was even too cold for snow, depite the blanket covering the mountains just an hour away.
Christmas Eve was a quiet day (for me, at least - Sonia was out with friends after dressing the tree and Mariana was doing battle non stop in the kitchen). Mariana decided to teach me a bunch of colinde and I managed a few harmonies for the ones I already knew (O Come All Ye Faithful, Silent Night). At 19h, we set off to church. Very small with a tiny congregation by British church-going standards for a Christmas Eve, Mariana dragged me off up the windy stone steps to a small room overlooking the altar, in order to sing in the choir. I was a bit nervous particularly when it became evident that my harmonies had nothing to do with those being played on the electronic keyboard by the 'organist', but I muddled through, with lots of thumbs up signs from Mariana. Ileana was there too, and I guess we were about nine in all; It was terribly cold and I could see my breath as I sang, but what fun it was, singing the carols so far from home on Christmas night.
Once home again, we attacked ciorba (great for thawing after having almost frozen to death!)and then we opened our presents. Sonia had made a photo album of pictures of herself for Mariana to comfort her when she leaves for the States longterm in the summer. It was a lovely gift and the photos gorgeous. I had some lovely warm slippers typical for Maramures (white and fluffy like sheeps feet!), a book on Maramures full of fabulous pictures and some chocolate. It was a lovely evening and we weren't too late to bed.
The next day, as tradition demands it, we went out to do the house visits. So many people, so many homes, so much hospitality. We began with 9 year old Bianca. Bianca is Ildy's daughter, an assistant at the creche. Born with a long list of medical problems,
Bianca is paralysed from the waist down and has just undergone a series of very disagreeable operations here in Bucharest to try to liberate her knee and both hips, fused since birth. Bianca clearly has mental problems and learning difficulties too. Speech is hard for her and there's a definite problem with her vision and focus. The doctor has said she is two years behind but she seems to be retarded far more than just two years. Ildy and her husband Gita were warm, welcoming and festive, proud of their beautiful tree next to Bianca's bed, and the table full of cakes and biscuits, bottles and glasses. Bianca was lying on her bed surrounded by her Christmas presents, and completely immobilised by two plaster casts that reached right up to her tummy. Incapable of bending from the waist, walking, going to the toilet by herself or indeed, doing anything by herself, she is entirely dependent on her parents. Her father has developed a discal hernia due to all the lifting - Bianca is not a small child by any means. It was hard to say goodbye to them. Even knowing that 'Enfants de Roumanie' helps Ildy and Gita with payments for Bianca, I still wanted to do more. Sometimes you just have to accept that you can't and it's a very unpleasant feeling.
Our next stop-off was to Mariana's brother Peter, his friend Isabel and their three magnificent cats (every home should have one!). The little coffee table in the sitting room was laden with food - meats, salade de boeuf, cheeses, castraveti, pretzels of caraway seed and cheese, and of course, the ever present little glasses for potent palinka that everyone calls tuica. This is dangerous as you never know the strength of what you're about to drink - in Maramures, palinka and tuica are both just plain 'tuica'! Its pot luck to know how long you'll be able to speak intelligently before you collapse in a heap. With the cold outside, tuica is a very welcome winter warmer, however! Mariana went off to the kitchen to have ciorba and talk to her brother, leaving me with Isabel. We discussed life in Sighet compared to life in Paris and London, Romanian music, food, the weather, the cats...and alcoholism. I said I was afraid to leave Romania a total alky with all the tuica I was embibing! Her reply was that as long a I know it, I'll be careful. I had a feeling that she was one herself. She seemed like one, had the 'look', and drank like a fish. Mariana later confirmed it. So much for that! The blind leadig the blind!
Next visit was to Mara. Mara belongs to the family of Mariana's ex-husband, and its so nice to see that
there are no longer any hard feelings between Mariana and her ex-inlaws. They seem to love each other very much. Pia, Mariana's ex-sister-inlaw must have been a very beautiful woman, but looked so sad and quiet. She hardly said a word, but smiled every time I looked at her and kept topping up my tuica glass! Her niece Mara is an excellent linguist and also a good pianist. She insisted on playing me Bach and Mozart on an old crate of a piano that can't have seen a tuning fork since the Crimea. What a shame that a girl with so much talent has to practice on such an antiquated pile of junk. She's working on a suite by Enescu that I've said I want to hear next time. 
Mara's adorable English teacher, Simona was there with her son Tudor and her husband. We hit it off at once, going into long spiels about pedagogy, tricks for teaching grammar and the ups and downs of EFL training. Her son Tudor is paralysed from the waist down, but unlike Bianca, has full sensation in both his legs, and pushes himself around on all fours to get around. He doesn't seem the least bit bothered about his immobility and is a bright and lovely child. I totally fell in love with him at first sight, and have accepted their invitation to go and see them in Oradea in the spring. I look forward to it very much.
From Mara's, we went on to Ileana's, and were frozen almost solid by the time we'd walked the thirty minutes through town to get there. Both
Ileana's children Dan and Lavinia were home from Cluj and Bergamo repectively, and I liked them very much at once. Dan soon left with his girlfriend, but Lavinia and I sat talking for ages about her experiences in Italy, the Rrom issue, politics, literature, with good Italian wine and cheese to help us along. She's so like Ileana - knowledgable and straight forward, a little less flexible in her views perhaps, but nevertheless a joy to be with.
The next day, Mariana had to go to a funeral, and I went to visit Viky. I met her in front of the creche at 14h and it was so great to see her again after six months. She certainly looked very well indeed. I'd expected us to go and sit in a café for a chat but no, I was whisked into a taxi and off we went to her flat the other side of Sighet. I met her son, Cristy for the first time. Good looking, funny, a trained doctor who can't find work and is desperate to receive his papers so he can leave Romania for work abroad, he passes his time searching for positions and fighting with the authorities. A very frustrating existence. There was also Viky's mum who lives with them. A sweet old thing who flitted between the doorway and her bedroom like a little bird. I wanted to give her a huge hug but she looked like she'd break into a thousand pieces if I'd done that. The coffee and chat I'd envisaged couldn't have been further from the truth. Ciorba, sarmale, salads, vinete (hurrah!) and of course the ever present tuica - and we talked for hours. It wasn't until Viky got up to turn the light on that I realised how long I'd been there, taking up their time! We went off to find a taxi in the main street and Viky came back with me as far as Mariana's before heading back home. It was a really nice afternoon and we laughed so much! I was very sorry to have to say goodbye.
Back home, Mariana was cooking again. I don't know where she gets the energy! Her sarmale is second to
none and literally melts in your mouth! She'd also done a kind of cream of mushrooms that was just heaven on the taste buds. I'd never had it before. And as for the cakes...oh my goodness. May La Durée drool because they are masterpieces! Whatever happens in Mariana's house, whatever the tragedy, however bad things may be, all can be solved with food. In UK we have a cup oftea. In Mariana's house, you eat. It's fabulous!
I can't thank Mariana and Sonia enough for letting me share such a lovely Christmas, for their kindness, love, warmth, friendship and boundless hospitality and generosity.
The next day, ie. yesterday, was the Winter Festival in Sighet - well, in all Maramures and central Romania. Processions of music and national costumes from all the regions of
northern and central Romania are there for the gawping. The horses are dressed magnificently, the children look edible and everyone has a great time depite the omnipresent biting cold. Please see more photos in the album 'Datini...' I met the journalist for Sighet and the surrounding regions, Johnny Popescu, who told me lots about the traditions. He has sent me an email which I will include on the blog 
once I've been through it, so you too can learn about the traditions and customs of this very ancient, pagan and beautiful part of Romania.
Later, we went to the travel agency to try to get my return ticket to Bucharest. Guess what? Impossible to leave from Sighet. No place for days. 
Aaaaaaaaaaaagh!!! As much as I love being with Mariana, I needed to be back in Bucharest to organise my New Year with Lidia - and the cold was starting to get the better of me. Finally, a solution. The rapid train from Baia Mare, leaving at 21h45 last night. Mariana organised my transfer from Sighet to Baia Mare (an hour and a half away across an icy mountain with sickeningly windy roads but fabulous views) with the help of Sonia and her great friend Ionut, and last night, I made the return trip home.
With temperatures in the compartment of nearly 40° ('well, it's cold out' said the controller), I spent the night in the seat at the end of the corridor, where it was much cooler. It wasn't too bad. I had a table, a lamp and read my book 'The Eyre Affair' that Veronique had sent me for Christmas, until Varry (Vasile) the controller decided to come and join me for about four hours! With an incomprehensible Bucharest accent and dreadful elocution, he talked the hindleg off several donkeys despite my completely bank expressions and declarations of not understanding a single word he said. His solution wasn't to speak slower, articulate or simplify his language (ie. dump the colloquialisms and bad language!), but to speak louder like I was a total idiot! At some point in the monologue he asked if I liked Duran Duran. 'Er, yeah, they're okay' I said. He ambled off for a while and returned with his MP3 where he'd downloaded six albums of his idols and insisted I plough my way through them despite my pleads of 'let me try to have a nap'. 'Girls on Film', 'Her Name is Rio', 'The Reflex'...memories from the 80's, youth club, school, etc came flooding back. I managed one album and then had to admit defeat. Did I know Sandra? Er, no. So, then I had to listen to a girly Barbie with a wispy voice for about thirty minutes until I'd convinced him that she really was fabulous! Eventually he let me get an hours shut eye before waking me to say that he'd arranged the kitchen for me with coca cola and coffee if I wanted any. Sure enough, on inspection, he had. Bless him! Annoying, but nevertheless very well meaning! He made me take his email and mobile phone number as he wanted English lessons (I think he'd be better off improving his Romanian first before he gets any more daring!) and for the next time I took the train to Sighet. He'd enjoyed our chat (one sided!) so much he'd like to do it again. As soon as the train pulled up into the Gara de Nord, I legged it!
Back at str. Telenovelo, I unpacked, did some washing and fell into bed. I awoke at four with a strange sensation that the room was bizarrely light. Hey. No curtains. My usual ones hanging on the front door weren't there either and neither was the long one on my door between kitchen and bedroom. That was funny. What was going on? As if on cue, Mandita appeared 'yoohoo! Only me!' she sang as usual, though she can't let herself in anymore as I leave my key in the lock. She had all my curtains in her arms, said she'd not been expecting me until the 2nd January, and had wanted to surprise me with nice clean curtains. I told her it was indeed a surprise to find no curtains at all! We hung them up again, and then I offered her a palinka and some of Mariana's cakes while she gave me all the news of Christmas here during my absence. Apparently, Nicu had got paraletic, and she, Raluca, the children and the famous Titi had spent Christmas pretty much without him albeit to the sound of his offkey snores. Raluca and the children left quite early and Mandita and Titi amused themselves alone. How, I didn't want to go there, but I heard again about how wonderful he was, what a gifted, talented man, how his wife had died only in October (just before I bought my bed) and that he needed cheering up. Well, good for her. Living with Nicu certainly ain't no ballgame. As she was leaving she said how she'd love to come with me to Brasov for New Year, but she couldn't leave her 'monastery'. Poor Mandita.
And that's it my dears. The latest update. I'm sure I've forgotten loads of stuff and I'm very sorry about that. But my hard disc is overflowing and 'ze leetle grey cells' aren't what they were!
My first taste of a Romanian Christmas has been wonderful and unforgettable, and I just can't thank Mariana enough. Everyone who made it such a memorable and fantastic time I thank from the bottom of my heart. And now I'm back in my beloved Bucharest again, I miss her and her hugs and her envelopping motherliness.
Time to close. I'm falling asleep and Titi's bed is calling, as is my hot water bottle!
Love to you all, as always. Keep well and warm, and thank you for all your Christmas e-cards, snail-mail cards and good wishes. It goes without saying that my thoughts are with you.
Sarah xox
P.S. Pleae find below the promised e-mail from Johnny Popescu, the journalist I met in Sighet. He gives a very interesting explanation of the masks worn by the 'Draci', what they symbolise and the reason for such an unholy row. Please read it and learn more about this traditional pagan festival across Central Europe. It really was an incredible sight:
Dear Sarah
I promised you to write a few words about the meaning of the mask and the festival you attended. So, here you are (I hope in good English to be understood)!
Masks appear in the most dark and cold season of the year, around the winter solstice, because this is the period when the activity of the malefic entities is at its peak. The Latin called the winter solstice „Ianua Coeli” (i.e. „The gate of the Heaven” or that of „the immortality” or „of the secret keeper”). These images are due to the fact that, between the two extremes of the sun, the first inaugurates an ascending faze towards the light of the annual cycle, the other, starts a descending and dark faze. In Roman mythology, Ianus – with two faces, one turned towards the future and the other to the past – was designed by Gods to open and close the gates of the year with two keys: a gold and a silver one. This is why the month of January – the beginning – was dedicated to him. And furthermore, his „ianitor” (gate keeper) role made Ianus the God of Initiation and that of the guilds, whose members celebrated him during the two solstices.
The spreading of Christianity in Europe, identified Ianus with the two saints named John. „John of the winter” (The Baptist) appeared as patron of the guilds and corporations which are responsible for the perpetuation of winter traditions and festivals: the rites are kept even today. The noisy disorder which characterizes the winter festivals expresses the war between gods and demons, between the old genies of the year who are to go and the young ones who are to come, both represented by the „nice” and the „ugly” masks, masks symbolizing the two fazes of the annual cycle and – at an other level – the lower (dark) and the higher (light) sages of „being”.
Different anthropologic schools agree upon seeing the winter festivals as remains of old rites of exorcising and going ahead, whose origins – previous to the Christian ones – should be looked for in indo-European antiquity. Their goal is to chase away evil, „the demons of winter” and to gain the blessing of the benevolent powers of the gods. For some, these masks and festivals had only one goal, to ensure the prosperity of the entire community in the year to come. For others, it was about the cult of ancestors, and their spirit. And for the third category, the masks are related to the ceremonies of initiation.
In many old communities, there is the tradition of incinerating the masks: destroying the image of evil, making the entity expressed by it disappear. One can say that the mask „personnifies” the evil, that it appears as a mirror that shows the human defects asking for repulsion. Showing the low manifestation of the human psyche in a funny and ridiculous way, the mask diminishes its latent powers. As such, the mask has no right to existence only for a limited period of time, limited to the „carnival”, when the „worlds are open” (Mundus Patet). When its role is fulfilled, the mask is hidden or destroyed in order that its influence be neutralized and chaos is stopped. This may be one of the explanations for the little number of masks older than hundred years kept in the European museums.
The mask reveals as much as it hides. One of the Latin terms for mask is „persona” which – besides the meaning of „noise”or „sound” (per sonare),means that hev who wears a mask is temporarily personalized, he becomes „the person” with all his qualities and defects. For the community, he who takes the features of another person, takes the role, character, rights and perhaps the powers of that person. Not only the features, but the voice and the language is changed as well, and his behavior – dictated by the new nature – doesn’t obey community laws: they steal and rob without being punished, tell people lies or, on the contrary, bless and offer gifts. Their judgement is law. This is why they are despised, feared, respected and worshipped at the same time.
Far from being simple occasions of joy and cheap debauchery, the winter festivals are lucid and coherent visions of society, in a chronology governed by the profound understanding of human nature and its subtle correspondence with the universe.
Besides a few insignificant interdictions, the Christian church tolerated and sometimes even recuperated these manifestations of pagan spirituality, conscious of their beneficial effects on community behavior.
Nowadays, the mask and the winter festivals are far from their ancient meaning. The liberalization of the moral tend to reduce the necessity of the rite, making it superfluous. All in all, it seems that they never have been so successful: many local and regional traditions have paradoxically consolidated and in some cases they were recreated out of different motivations, tourism being one of them. But, behind some mercantile motivation, there is a deeper, unexpressed urge: cultural identity. Recovering values of the past answers in a way to the questions of modern man.
To conclude my babbling: even if the function of the mask has modified in time, its persistence in our days is a sign of its power. More than any other object, the mask symbolizes and will always symbolize the duality of human nature and the relation between the real world and the unreal one, the visible and the invisible.
Sorry for being a bit longwinded, but I hope I've helped you understand all this fuss called Festival going on here in Central Europe.
Sincerely
Ioan Johnny Popescu
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