1999 Biking East Europe

Sunday, September 12 – Vatra Moldovitei, Romania – B&B, 140 000l
Distance cycled: 38 – Maximum speed: 37.8 – Average speed: 13

We have had the best day. We arose early (06h00) to a cacophony of farm animals (noisy buggers). I showered hot after Dimi had made a fire for me in the geyser in our bathroom and we were on the road in the family’s red Dacia by 07h00 – bound for the painted churches of Bucovina. Our two-hour drive through a Sunday Romania to Voronet monastery just outside Gura Humorului was enchanting. We passed safely and gently through bucolic scenes and small farming villages with the most beautiful homes. Passed people patiently plodding their single cow to the communal grazing grounds, or herding larger numbers of cows or sheep or geese – either on foot or on bike. Passed gypsy caravans parked in green fields. Passed homes unlike anything I’ve seen before. Both practical and fairy-tale like. Usually a house with a barn and a well. Almost all the wells were covered in the most beautiful way – in little housings with roofs to match the home roof of tin or wood or tile. The wooden barns are trimmed with slats with cut-out designs, the walls of the houses covered either with elaborate wood ‘chips’ or painted designs. The yards containing pigs, chickens, geese, cats and dogs. Restful, yet a feast for the eyes.

Dimi said when we asked about the large number of new homes and homes under construction that these were not the result of a growing Romanian economy but because the owners had found work abroad in Germany, Israel, Italy or the USA. She said that when people had the opportunity to work away from home, it changed their lives and that if, when she had completed her studies (information systems / computers / mathematics, but no internet studies) she found there was no future for her in Romania she too would get work abroad if possible.

“The painted churches of southern Bucovina are amongst the greatest artistic monuments of Europe…Erected at a time when northern Moldavia was threatened by Turkish invaders, the monasteries were surrounded by strong defensive walls. Great popular armies would gather inside these fortifications, waiting to do battle. To educate the illiterate peasants who were unable to understand the liturgy, biblical stories were portrayed on the church walls in colourful pictures. The exteriors…are completely covered with these magnificent 16th century frescoes…most of the intense colours…have been preserved despite five centuries of rain and wind.”

At Voronet (the first of four monasteries we planned to visit) we paid our host and said our goodbyes and parked our bikes outside the monastery walls under the watchful eye of a bébé. And went in to marvel. The primary blues of Voronet are known apparently world-wide as Voronet blue – and a lovely blue it is too. We arrived in time to hear not only the Sunday service during which the nuns sang sweet inside while we admired the outside murals, but to watch an older nun place a narrow plank on her shoulder and walk around the church while hitting it with a wooden mallet. And best of all we got to hear the wood tapping that replaced the ringing of bells when this was banned at some point in the history of the area. We did not get to see the wood-tapping instrument, but it sounded like a ginormous wooden xylophone and was played at an amazing and exciting and totally unexpected disco-beat speed. Just wonderful.

We shopped then at the little craft market outside the walled monastery. Romanian crafts are disappointing – they look pretty from a distance, but poorly-crafted from up close. I did, however, see from a few metres away and make a beeline for, an item that turned out to be a traditional woven man’s belt in the colours of Moldavia – pink and green. The salesman told me it was about 80 years old and was worn with traditional white shirts with full sleeves. The workmanship in complete contrast to that of the newer crafts and irresistible (50 000l). And cycled afterwards past locals greeting us with a lively Bonjour mista to town for coffee before heading out to visit Humor monastery. At the coffee shop Charl overhead a group of locals using the word “liability” in reference to me – huh!

The ride to Humor and back was pure delight. Perfect sunshine weather, not too hot, not at all windy, an easy road. A mountain backdrop to homes to die for, doll. More of the elaborate tin roofs, the slatted wood walls, the carefully-housed wells. Many homes with satellite dishes; almost all with benches outside on the pavement for the sitting on of the residents and the chatting to with neighbours and passers-by – most geselig.

The predominant colour at Humor (built 1530) is a deep red. Again the elaborate painted stories – an odd mixture of biblical stories, historical stories and martyrdom scenes. Again the Turks as baddies. Again the fortified walls, the blowsy garden, the resident nuns. Again the tapping of the single plank while walking around the church base.

From Humor, back to and through Gura, and onward to Vama there to take a train up the hill to Vatra Moldovitei. We stopped on the side of the road at one point to drink bought beer and water (Charl and I respectively) and were greeted by the woman in the house next to which we had come to rest. She invited me into her overrun, but delightful garden – overrun with kittens and cats too – and drew fresh cold delicious water from her well to top up my water bottle. She and I conversed with difficulty in broken German. She wanted us to stay for lunch, but we had a train to catch. Kind.

At Vama we bought tickets for Vatra M and could not entirely suppress our anxiety about getting the bikes on board. But, except for the fact that we were on the wrong side of the track when the train arrived, we were transported un-harassed up the hill (Charl sitting with admiring young local women who fed him on nuts and seeds) – there to visit in the late afternoon the Moldovita monastery.

Moldovita was built in 1532; its paintings date from 1537 and include a scene depicting the defence of Constantinople (626AD). Here, in the fortified peace of the garden, I came across a nun sitting mannish on a bench and reading her book – no doubt making the best of the glorious autumn sunshine before the onset of what is apparently a pretty awful winter.

We made some enquiries about accommodation in town and after little comparison-shopping settled for a Bed & Breakfast in the home of a vet and his wife and daughter – 140 000l for a comfortable room; 60 000l each for “abendessen”. We were brought coffee in the garden on arrival and “abendessen” was served to us alone in the dining room – salad, bread, pork and potatoes, a bottle of wine and a taste of a really strong local brew. A simple, pleasing meal to end a more than pleasing day.