It was almost midnight when we pulled in. I was awake and watching the approach. We came through a town where there was a sign that pointed onward out of town. We followed these signs down smaller and smaller roads. Then it seemed like cow paths, although they were paved. Finally, we turned down a tiny, freshly paved road. We traveled down this road to the entrance of the monastery. There was no turning around so we were here. The arch over the road was a low one. Marius got out checking that we could get under it. The bus driver let out all the air from the air-ride system. Still it was touch and go. Finally, we were on the grounds of the monastery. We drove up to the gates and into the parking lot. Last year it was a parking lot. Now it is a labyrinth hedge garden. The bus managed to drive up the sidewalk to the far side.
Some very sleepy Fulbrighters crawled out of the bus, found their luggage and made their way to the lobby. Mihai stood at the counter and handed out keys. We all headed up the stairs to the right or the left to our rooms. There were a few discussions, but mostly people were headed to sleep the rest of the night away. As we reached our corridor, three of us found that we had all gone to high school in Ohio. What a coincidence that was. It turns out that none of us was near enough to another to have known each other but it was worth a few minutes chatter about high school in Ohio. As we talked, doors closed farther down the hall. Cynthia's husband had taken the key and gone on to their room. Unfortunately, he neglected to tell her which room he was headed for. She knocked softly on all the doors in our corridor. It seemed like they should have been right near us. She tried the rooms upstairs but no Bob. I offered to share my room if it came to that. We could not go to the desk as the rooms were assigned as a block and not individually. No one had kept track of who was where. Soon the monk came along to turn off the hallway lights. Cynthia explained her dilemma, and the two of them headed down the hall to knock on all the doors again. It is interesting that no one answered the door. They were back a few minutes later with no success. Finally, Cynthia decided it was time for decisive action and she knocked on the next door. It wasn't Bob. She tried the next one. No Bob. One more door. Surprise – there he was, please to see Cynthia. He, of course, had no idea that she did not know where he had gone and was beginning to wonder where she was going to spend the night.
Looking out from my bedroom window, I am transported to another world. You might think that we have seen enough monasteries, but they are so fascinating to me. Each one is very different from the others. Each one has such a rich and varied history.
We rose to see the snow on the Fagares Mountains where we might have been had the weather stayed nicer a bit longer. Those are not sheep up there, but snow stuck in the clefts of the mountain. Maybe in the spring. Apparently it is only a four to six month passageway. The snow makes it to treacherous to travel in the winter.
This particular monastery is a new monastery. The original one was built by Prince Constantin Brancoveanu but was later burned to the ground and then its replacement was nearly destroyed again in more recent times. It is just now being rebuilt again.
It is still early and not many people are up and about as yet. The grounds are deserted except for a few monks headed here and there. At the center of the complex is the Big Church. It has been rebuilt in much the same plan as what was there originally. It is freshly whitewashed. It strikes me as rather plain having lived near the Painted Monasteries for a month now. I wonder what I will think of churches at homes when I see them again. Will they be plain looking?
There is an older wooden church inside the wall also. It is a tiny church. So many churches in such a small area. And yet they are all well attended and do many good works.
The outer buildings were destroyed and needed to be rebuilt. These monks wanted to rebuild it as it had originally been built but the original plans cannot be found. No one has been able to find the original floor plans or even descriptions of what it looked like. The monastery was originally built in
There came a time when the monks felt that they needed to build an additional sanctuary. As this was during Soviet times, they applied to the government for permission. They actually applied for a permit to build a museum and after a while the permit was finally approved. The plans were drawn up and construction began. This sanctuary is a bit different from other basilicas of the Romanian Orthodox Church. It does not have the four distinct rooms that are found in other churches. There are tiny archways in the ceiling if you look closely to delineate the structures. The new building is huge. It is called the Little Church. And so the monks have a chuckle as the Big Church could probably fit inside the Little Church.
It is the centerpiece of the ramparts of the monastery. This new section of the building has been built in the style of the similar to what the original building probably looked like. They know that a particular architect would have built this monastery and so have used his plans from another monastery and used them to construct this new one. Plans from this original architect are over
five hundred years old, and yet they are still viable as I am standing inside this beautiful, brand new, medieval monastery. The paths are cobblestoned and the buildings are all white-washed, not painted. Much of what is here today is right out of a history book, and yet the monks go about their business, perfectly happily. They have cell phones, vacuum cleaners, and cars, but continue to work the land and go about their lives as if the intervening centuries had never occurred.
This lovely monastery is home to the world's best glass icon painting school. There were several examples in the Little Church and scattered throughout the buildings.
This covered path is an art teacher's dream. It is the epitome of perspective. It Is perspective so simply stated, and yet so elegant.
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