Weekend in Sibiu

Dear Everyone,

I've just come back from the most wonderful long weekend in Sibiu with Flori and her Gaby, staying with her Uncle Ilie and her parents repectively. Such kindness and generosity goes straight to the heart and this evening I'm feeling introspective, with a need for quiet. I'm glad to stay home and update this blog as I have no inclination to see anyone and make conversation after such a marvellous weekend that has made me stop, think and count my blessings on umpteen occassions.

For those of you who don't know, Sibiu is in Transylvania, about two hours from Brasov by train, and was chief city of the Saxons. It reminds me very much of Brasov in terms of atmosphere and architecture. Walter Starkie wrote of Sibiu in 1929 "I rubbed my eyes in amazement. The town where I found myself did not seem to be in Transylvania, for it had no Romanian or Hungarian characteristics: the narrow streets and old gabled houses made me think of Nuremburg." This is certainly true of the old city today, though the illusion is harder to sustain in the surrounding city.

The citadel of Hermannstadt in German, was destroyed in 1241 by the Tatars, who left only a few hundred survivors. The townsfolk surrounded themselves during the 14th and 15th centuries with four rings of walls and forty towers; they were mighty enough to repel the Tatars three times. The buildings and streets were linked by tunnels and gateways for protection. Much remains and history oozes out of every brick.

The last time I visited Sibiu was with Adrian and Marie-Jo a couple of years ago. We just had enough time to run around the Piata Mare in order to jam in a quick tour of the 18th century Brukenthal Art Museum, grab a bite to eat and then head off again. This time, however, I discovered another side of Sibiu - the jazz side. But more on that later.

I arrived in Sibiu with Rosie after a five hour train trip from Bucharest. It was, as usual, a rather fun journey. It being 'post', ie. the fasting period before Orthodox Easter, everyone in our compartment were exchanging recipes and handy hints of what to use, what could be mixed with what, how to make money stretch, etc. One lady in her eighties who in fact looked most unwell, took a load of jars out of her luggage. Together with covici for bread, we tasted each mixture. During 'post', meat and dairy products are forbidden, so 'foaie verde' really comes into its own. We had nettles with garlic (like Tantza makes), zacusca, toccana and a range of other delicacies that I can't begin to list because I simply don't remember what they all were. When the bloke came round with refeshments, he was most upset to find our compartment full of absolutely stuffed passengers - no need for his wares whatsoever. Rosie, too, ate her fill, having charmed everyone as is her wont. She ate apple purée (is she really a dog, I ask myself seriously), nettles and garlic, vinete (ah yes, how could I forget that?) and onion 'jam'. After our feast, the old gentleman pictured above got out his photo' album. He's 88 years old and wanted us to see him as a very handsome young soldier between 1943 and 1948. In '43 he was indeed very handsome - square jawed, moustached, elegant and brave. In '48 however, his face was long and shadowed, ravaged by hunger and suffering. He told us about how it had been, tears in his eyes at the memories. On to happier seeming things: photos of his wife, aged 81. Still pretty, blue eyed, fabulous skin as so many women are blessed with here (due to the absence of iodine in the soil and healthy home cooking with no additives and fertilisers?). I was quite sorry when we arrived in Sibiu and had to part company. Rica and I (the lady in pink) exchanged e-mail addresses with promises to keep in touch. She now lives in Madrid and had come to visit family for the Easter period. A charming, energetic woman, full of laughter.

Flori and her Gaby were waiting for us at the station. Into the car we piled, Rosie mad with joy to be off the train, and we drove across the city to Flori's uncle's house. It's an old house that has been lovingly restored and renovated, giving a cosy, welcoming feel - lovely open entrance hall and large family kitchen, spacious bathroom and generous bedrooms brightly painted. The big garden at the back is home to chickens, three dogs (a German Shepherd called Lady, a Ciobanesc named Alma and a Ciobanesc Mioritic - I think, or am I just confusng the name with Miorita?! - whose name I've forgotten) and two of the biggest rabbits I've ever seen in my life.

A tour of the old city was first thing on the agenda. Such great shops in the commercial areas, snugly nested along the cobbled streets. It was a miserable, grey, wet afternoon, but that didn't make a difference. Sibiu is beautiful whether rain or shine as far as I'm concerned. We crossed the Bridge of Lies, which, legend has it, will collapse if you lie while standing on it. We told a few porkies but thankfully, nothing happened. Along arched passages and columned walkways we trotted, admiring the lovely furniture shops and art galleries en route.

We passed our destination for the evening: The Imperium Club. Just beside the Bridge of Lies, this place is known for its live music. In fact, Sibiu itself has a fabulous reputation for night life, whether you're into classical music, jazz, rock or retro, there'll be a place for you somewhere. Arriving around 20h30, we were able to choose our table as the one booked was far too near the drums! The band due to perform, Evergreen, are known for their eclectic taste - everything from classical jazz to country, rock and blues. We were joined by Mia and Ioana (Flori's nieces) and Mia's boyfriend, Radu. We didn't talk much - the music was loud, and we were too busy singing along anyway. The Imperium is certainly a great venue. Open for only three years, business is booming in the underground cavern, instruments on the walls (musical ones in case you're wondering), soft lighting and very attentive, pleasant staff. It was a really good evening. We left just as the lead singer's girlfriend (I imagine, as she was up dancing to all the numbers whatever they were, knew all the words to everything and cheered the loudest emitting enthusiastic 'whooooo's at the end of every song), Flavia, finished Peggy Lee's 'Fever' and was launching into 'Summertime'.

The next day we set off to visit Flori's parents. They live in the little village of Ludos, 57km from Sibiu. Gaby and Flori decided to drive the scenic route, which was a little errored as decisions go - the road was atrocious. Gaby's rather old BMW took off and landed like a demented kangaroo, with messy consequences - Rosie was violently sick all over the car and I wasn't far behind. By the time we arrived, we were worn out!

Ludos is the image of Roumanian villages that I've driven through countless times and cooed and wow'd at the prettiness, the time delay of about 50 years and the peace and quiet. It's the first time I've actually lived in one albeit for a day and a night, and the reality isn't quite as it appears. Few families have running water, hardly anyone, thus, possesses a bathroom. Central heating is unheard of, horse and carts are more popular than cars...and there's no road to speak of, just track. However, everyone has cable tv. I saw this as rather funny, but speaking to Lucia tonight and telling her about it she said it wasn't funny at all. It was outrageous that having tv is acceptable by the government for country people, but having a running water supply and sanitation wasn't. She doubts they'll get any in the next 20 years. She's right of course and I feel stupid for having smiled affectionately at this strange acquirement whilst everything else is lacking...she was quite right to berate me and be so cross.

Flori's parents live in one room. They get their water from their own well in the courtyard and have to heat it in huge saucepans for washing themselves as well as the dishes. There's a bath in the courtyard that collects rain water, very good for hair and does your skin the world of good. Flori's mum has an oven and she also has a wood stove, typical in Roumania.They do have an 'upstairs', a fairly recently acquired house that's been renovated and gives them two extra rooms, but they don't appear to use it for now, as it's not yet finished. Flori and Gaby sleep here when they come to stay, and this time, it became my room. Life in this village is simple and hard, everyone has a garden where they grow their own vegetables and raise chickens for meat and eggs. Some people have goats and pigs, a few sheep - they are self sufficient.

Roumanian hospitality never fails to bring a lump to my throat and make me feel humbler than humble. Flori's mum had prepared ciorba, chicken and vegetables with cream, sarmale and apple cake - all absolutely delicious mouth-watering joy. Despite the hardship of life in general, generosity and the warm and hearty welcome is as it is just about everywhere in this country. The traditional apéritif of palinka and home made wine was marvellous. I wanted to help Flori's mum carry in wood for the stove but wasn't allowed.

Flori's parents are deaf and dumb. They communicate with sign language and lots of theatrical movements and expressions. It was wonderful not to have to worry about my limited Roumanian, and I so enjoyed 'talking' to them through mime. That's universal! When I couldn't act it, Flori translated it into sign language. Her father is very proud of his garden which, he said, he and his wife did alone with a bit of help from their son, Flori's brother, Marin. He was most insistent that I see it. It is, indeed, a most impressive plot, lovingly tended. Long rows of turned soil home to all different kinds of vegetables. The chicken coop is spacious and vey well built, the area for the wood solid and brilliantly organised.

I don't know how many people actually live in Ludos, but it can't be that many. The Catholic church is now unused - no more Catholics in the village. When there was a German population, the church was thriving, but Ceausescu threw them out and today the church is an empty shell. The Orthodox church up the road, however, is well attended.

We went for a walk around the village. Here, everyone greets each other, whether you're strangers or notand no matter the age. There was a lovely house for sale going for 12,000 euros. Beautiful wooden front portal, a courtyard inside surrounded by house and outhouses on either side to create a square.

There's a monument to the victims of World War 1 and some really lovely properties to be seen. Surrounded by sweeping hills and a view that just makes your jaw drop, the tour blew the cobwebs away, made me bless my cave here in Bucharest, and the respect and admiration for Flori's parents and indeed anyone living such a tough life in a village, grew to exploding point.

We went to see Flori's brother Marin, his wife Lenuta and their two children Bogdan and Ioana.They live in a typical house in the village, not far from Flori's parents. I didn't see the house entirely so I can't tell you how many rooms but I'd guess at two, with the toilet outside (Flori's parents' WC is across the courtyard, through a wooden gate and in the middle of the garden - a wooden cabin that must be hellish in winter and just unimaginable in summer). It was fiendishly overheated and I felt quite heady. Lenuta bent over backwards to welcome us, offering coffee, wine, cakes and presenting Flori and I with gifts of table covers - quite lovely. The children were gorgeous and quite taken with Rosie, who behaved herself perfectly. We had coffee and left, for dinner was waiting for us back at Flori's parents'.

After dinner, we weren't long in going to bed. Mine was a good, hard bed covered in a thick warm duvet that envelopped me like a nest. I was asleep immediately, awaking briefly at 3am, and slept through until 8h30 when I heard sounds of activity in the courtyard. I dressed quickly and went to join Flori, Gaby and Mr and Mrs Flori. Breakfast was strong coffee and apple cake. Marin, Lenuta and the children joined us for lunch and we left for Sibiu soon afterwards. It was a most incredible experience that has made me question all my gripes and put life and all that I have into some kind of perspective. I've already used the word 'humble', but I'll use it again, for spending time with Flori's parents has indeed enforced this feeling. Brave, courageous people, determined to make a go of things however hard they may be. I admire them more than words can possibly express, and when they said that I must visit again, I promised to do so and meant it from the bottom of my heart.

Back in Sibiu, having gone the conventional route this time, I ran straight for the bathroom and literally revelled in the flush, the tiles, the radiator and the running hot water.

We had a fabulous 'casse croute' of fried eggs and chips (my favourite Brit dish!). Ilie came by and then we left for our evening of jazz at another venue, the Atrium in the old town, not far from the Imperium Club. The rain continued to fall but didn't dampen our enthusiasm in the least. Starting first at the Café del Sol, we moved on. The Atrium was the most surprising place I've ever been to. Our table was up on a kind of a balcony overlooking the rest of the club, directly above the piano. Behind us a door lead on to a corridor where an exhibition of posters was in progress. Off the corridor were two rooms with comfy chairs and tables presumably for clients who weren't interested in the music. The main wall of the club was taken up by a slide show of excellent photographs of the first tramline in Europe - here in Sibiu!

Around the bar itself were two men who looked just like spies. One, British looking, a tattered kind of James Bond was drinking his beer, while his mate surveilled the room with roaming eyes, glaring at people sitting at the tables around him. We joked about them quite a bit, but perhaps in retrospection, it may not have been that funny after all, given the history of Roumania.

The jazz was fabulous - piano and double bass. They played tango, French jazz Piaf style, Gershwin, Porter, Ragtime...really excellent. Once again, we were joined by Mia and Ioana, and a little later by two friends of Ioana who arrived just as we'd decided to get the bill and leave as we were hungry. Flori and Gaby nipped to the local Tratoria (which was in fact closed) - the chef was quite happy to knock out three pizzas for his late-coming clients (how different from Bucharest where the motto really is 'nu sâ poarte'), which they brought back to the Atrium and balanced on top of the soft drinks fridge until we were ready to leave.

It was a bit of a wrench leaving the great music, the fat pianist (heavens knows how he reached the keys) and the good atmosphere, but we were tired and hungry for our balancing pizzas.

This morning, we were up later than usual. We packed, Gaby washed the car and stuffed it full to bursting point and we were on the road to Bucharest around 14h. The views leaving Sibiu of the Fagaras mountain range were absolutely breath-taking, and continued to be so as far as Pitesti. How hard to leave the fresh air, the peace and tranquility...and yet, I need the capital city and its buzz and vibrance. The country is wonderful for a break. I couldn't ever live there. I miss Bucharest, I miss Lucia and George. It's been the most marvellous weekend and I'm ever-grateful to Flori and Gaby for putting up with me, and to Ilie and Flori's parents for their endless, boundless hospitality. It's so touching, so endlessly surprising and makes me very emotional.

I was delivered directly to my door, and presented with the biggest jar of castraveti I've ever seen. It'll take me ages to get through them all and they're huuuuuge! They came from Flori's mum - thank you! Thank you!

Back at the cave, I wanted to hug it. I won't complain about the leaky shower and the shortage of hot water ever again! Rosie rushed straight to bed and promptly fell asleep. She's been extraordinarily perfect in every way, I must say I'm amazed. She put up with children petting her, car rides agogo, aggressive guard dogs of all descriptions and change after change, but remained quiet and lovely as ever. What an incredible little thing she is. I'm very proud of her.

The week to come is holiday for me. Lidia and Mariana aren't free, so I'll stay here in Bucharest. The weekend in Sibiu has been so marvellous, so full and so rich in emotions that it feels like I've been gone a week, so I don't mind. Tomorrow, I'll meet Aura for lunch near her office at Republica, Thursday I'll see Flori for a Sibiu party and hair colour session, Friday Jacques Salomé will be in Bucharest so I'll go see him with Aura, and at some point I'll have coffee with Yvette's cousins (Alex's parents). Somewhere amongst all this coming and going, Rosie needs to go to the vet for a manicure and I've missed Lucia and George very much so hope to see them before the weeks out if possible. And the girls, too.

Have a wonderful week and please...count your blessings. When you turn the tap on to fill your kettle, think about it. When you go sleepily to your bathroom every morning, think about that, too. And when you take your bath or shower, sing for joy - not everyone can do so. It was a shock. I knew it existed, but seeing such lackings at such close quarters was like whip-lash. I'll try so hard to complain less and be grateful more. This is perhaps what living here has taught me, though I must admit, it's hard not to moan and be damn happy with what you've got.

Love Sarah xox