Humor Monastery

This afternoon we walked to the monastery. It was amazing. Imagine building one of these buildings in a matter of months with no modern machinery. The paintings were done by four different artists. Looking closely, you can discover those differences.

We passed this gentleman on the way and asked for his picture. He happily agreed. This is the traditional clothing that is often worn on a Sunday here. Traditions are honored very highly in Eastern Europe.

This garden is on the way to the monastery. So many houses have flowers everywhere. It is really very cheery. Today it is like a fall day. The sky has had a grey cast to it for several days and the rain has made it chilly. Blue skies keep peeking out of the grey to bring cheer to the last days of summer vacation.

The Monastery is well hidden by the fences and buldings around it, After coming through the entrance to the grounds the huge stone building stands there to greet visitors. These nuns are dressed all in black habits. These are different from the ones in the West. These are completely balck, even the black wimples and the skirts are not as full. These are Orthodox nuns, carrying on their lives, almost as if the visitors do not exist. They barely speak except for the one collecting the entrance fees. The grounds are immaculate.

It is four o'clock and time for afternoon matins. At least that is what I would call it. I am not sure what it is called here. This nun is calling everyone to the service. She beats a rhythm on the long pole with a wooden hammer, probably much the same as others before her have done for centuries. Inside the sisters are conducting a service with singing and what must be a sermon.

One of the paintings on the outside walls of the monastery depicting the resurrection. Each animal has a part of something it has eaten in the past. The fish have heads. The snake has a hand. Looking closely reveals that each animal has returned some body part. I don't know that I ever heard this part of the story.

These angels' wings are interesting. They could easily have been painted by a modern artist, so universal is the design. The scales of justice.

There is an entire section of the paintings devoted to men with exceedingly long beards. Although the lower ones are damaged with graffiti, the paintings are amazingly clear and intact considering that they were painted nearly 500 years ago and have withstood wind, rain, and snow. They have survived several occupations.

There is another monastery on the gtounds. The first monastery was burned down by the Ottomans and all that is left are the river stones of its base. This is the side of the painted monastery as seen from the original monastery remains. So many of the paintings are still vibrant.

The nuns live in the cloister on the grounds. It is very well-maintained. There must be hundreds of roses lining both sides of the paths throughout the grounds. This garden leads to the cloister which is off limits. Note that this stone wall is thigh high.

At the edge of the grounds is a tower which stands alone. It is open and so we walked up the wooden stairs. They could easily be the original stairs, so old and worn are they. The exposed staircase leads to a large chamber which leads to another staircase. This one is cut into the stone. It is very narrow and the stone steps are very steep. The walls have slits carved into them for archers to slip their arrows through for protection. This staircase leads to another chamber where the tiny windows are. This would have been a defense tower. From this level an even tinier stircase leads farther up. These stairs are made of stones set in dirt. They are even narrower than the ones before. They are probably fifteen inches high and maybe six inches across. The passageway leaves little room to negotiate. The walls are close on all sides with no railing. There is almost no lighting and so the footing is iffy at best. This leads to the final chamber. The doors lead out onto a balcony which encilsles the tower. It is a lookout tower designed to get a view of the surrounding countryside to give first warning of marauding invaders and prepare the defenses.

This would never pass OSHA regulations. I am so glad to have been here while it isi still accessible. Remember the huge garden in front of the nuns' cloister. It looks tiny from the top of the tower. The tower walk is above the roof of the Monastery. The treads of the walkway do not lap each other and so the ground is visible between them. It is a queasy sort of sight.

Remember the picture where I am standing next to this garden and it looks really big. I am at the top of the tower now. I can see for miles. It is easy to imagine the monks in the 1500s standing up here on the lookout for invaders. Much of what is here has changed very little since then. There are probably more houses and the road is paved. There would have been no cars. Otherwise, life is much as it was then. The nuns run the monastery now instead of the monks. No one seems to know what happened to them.

The view is spectacular. The traditional houses look like a fairy tale village below. The sheep on the mountain are tiny specks of white. The Carpathians rise up behind a pretty garden. The white dots are sheep. They are up on the side of the mountain without a shepherd. Only dogs keep them together and will bring them home in the evening. Each of them knows what they need to do and where they live and how to get where they need to go. No fences. In America, the DNR and police would be called. Probably the ASPCA, and other animal rights organizations, too.

This lovely little church sits across from the monastery. Everything here is so very peaceful. It doesn't look as if time has touched very much of this area. If you didn't know there was electricity and the internet in many of them, you could easily imagine days being whiled away as they have for centuries. Much of the food prepared here is local. The cows provide milk and much bartering goes on. It is very quaint.

Climbing down from the tower is an interesting proposition. Needless to say, the shoes have to come off. Going up is one thing, but coming down is quite another indeed. My high-heeled sandals were not made for this at all. I tucked them in my pockets and started down. Using the walls for balance, I sidled down the stairs, one step at a time. They are really quite treacherous. I can not see my feet at all and so must feel the next step with my toes as I reach ever downward. I breathed a deep sigh of relief when I finally touched the ground.

It has been a delightful visit. It is so quiet and peaceful here. It is easy to imagine that it is 1550. That the tower is manned. That fresh bread is in the oven. That the monks are praying. That village life goes on as it always has. The Monastery hides behind the tree as we leave the grounds.