Virtual Friends and the Bogdana Monastery

The world has certainly changed with the advent of the internet. When I first learned that I would be spending this year in Romania, I began to research what I had gotten myself into. I looked at the geography, the social context, the economy, and concluded that it would be a wonderful place to spend a year. Google found Virtual Tourist for me. It is a site where people talk about places they have visited or would like to visit. You can have your own page or just wander around. I found Marius there. He lives in Gura Humorului when he is at home, which seems to be rather seldom. He gave me some ideas about this place and I went on about planning my trip. I really didn’t think we would ever actually meet and so I put him on the back burner.

He returned to Gura Humorului this week for a few days on route to another destination. We managed to cross paths and I found he is a delightful person. It turns out that he and Bogdan went to school together. (There is a theory about the power of six – that you can reach anyone by reaching out through six well-chosen people.)

A wet drizzle kept it chilly and the paths were a sloppy muck, but we struck out anyway to his grandmother’s house. As we neared the village Marius pointed out the new church. The day was rainy and so the church looks a bit ethereal in the mist. She is a sweet little lady. She was so pleased to see Marius. While we were there, he brought water in from the well. It is a very deep well of stone. He lowered and raised the bucket with a chain. Whoever put this well in some years ago was certainly a much better engineer than I would be. As the handle is turned bringing the bucket up from the bottom of the well, the chain would itself around the axle, lining up each new strand precisely next to the previously wound strand. His grandmother lives alone in her house and continues to plant her huge garden in the spring bringing in the harvest in the fall. I am positive that I could not keep up with her and she is 86! Marius picked pears from her tree. Mine was delicious.

We headed off to see the monastery he had talked of all afternoon. We crossed the mountains to the eastern side where the winds from Siberia howl all winter long. I do hope they do not cross the mountains to our valley. Brrr. Once again the views are spectacular. We drove for about an hour to a town north of Suceava called Radauti.

I am quite certain that I will never drive in Romania. We passed cars and trucks. They passed us. We hurtled down the far side of the mountain. The road over the mountain never stretches out, but is hairpin turn after hairpin turn. The ride puts Cedar Point to shame. If you look carefully, there are five switchbacks between where I took the picture from the window of the car to the singular, tall tree to the left in the center of the image. And this is all downhill, with people walking, horses and carutes, big trucks, other cars, and bicycles to maneuver around. Can you imagine what insurance must cost?? Marius drives adeptly, as if this was not a roller coaster, but an interstate highway.

Soon we arrive in Rudauti, the Pearl of Bucovina. This area of Romania is called Bucovina, which translates into English to mean “Area of Beech Trees.” This area was occupied by the Austrians from 1775 until the early 1900s. The taller structures of the Austrians are still evident. It is surprising looking around to realize I am not in Western Europe, there are so many of them.

Nestled in this lovely town is the oldest stone monastery in Romania, Bogdana Monastery. The written history of this area goes back to the 1400s when Bogdan Voda, the founder of Moldavia came to this locale and determined to build the main country church here. The monastery that still stands today is a testament to his faith. How did they do it? With no cranes and no mechanical assistance, they had to use sheer determination to lift the stones, one on top of the next. The monastery has withstood the test of time, as it is still here over five hundred years later, with its frescoes intact. Currently, services continue to be held. A new church has been built across the square from the original in much the same pattern. They are still painting the frescoes inside. I have been invited back to watch them paint. (Barb, I can imagine you would find this truly exciting, also!) Maybe at Christmas, if not before. I imagine Michelangelo lying atop a scaffold, painting frescoes on the ceiling. I didn’t know that there were still artists who painted frescoes!!

This is a favorite haunt for Marius. He has spent much time here. Ecaterina welcomes us to her office. She is a nun here and a delight. I have not been this close to an Orthodox nun before. She is so young and has a sparkle about her that is contagious. She is shy to use her English although what I do hear is excellent. I tell her she needs to practice, but she insists that Marius interpret for her. Abbot Justin pops in to talk about his great project. He has managed to build an entire children’s village from donations. A Romanian Orthodox church stands in the center with the children’s houses encircling it. These are for children who have lost their way. Many children in Romania are left behind when their parents must go to more thriving parts of Western Europe to work for months that sometimes stretch into years. I really do not understand this phenomenon. I have seen it here and in Lithuania where I send my July’s. This practice is rampant in post-Soviet countries. Parents must leave eight and ten year olds to fend for themselves while the parent goes off to seek his fortune, coming home after months or years. Some of these parents have been gone for four and five years! The village that the abbot has brought to life will be a welcome home for these seemingly abandoned children and others who have had similarly hard lives.

Soon a French nun arrived. Mother Phoebe is so adorable – just what a nun should be. She reminds me of my kindergarten teacher. I can still remember going for walks with her along a pebble-lined path under the canopy of cherry trees in bloom in North Carolina after school. In Romania and France, apparently a novitiate is addressed as “Sister,” and after she takes her vows she is addressed as “Mother.” Mother Phoebe and I talked for quite a while in a variety of languages. French is her native language and Romanian is a close second. She still has to think about the words sometimes in English. We conversed in all three. I have to thank my high school French teacher wherever she is. Thos e two years of French have been more than helpful since I arrived. I actually know much more of it than I imagined. It is a good thing that I packed my French-English dictionary. Now Mother Phoebe divides her time between her home in Paris and this monastery. She is delightful.

Suddenly, it is much later than it ought to be.

I am looking forward to visiting the monastery again. I leave with a beautiful book of the history of Radauti filled with some excellent pictures depicting the evolution of the town from its beginnings in the 1400s to the present day which the abbot has given me and a few postcards of the lovely village he is building.