An Evening on Toaca Mountain

The Christmas holidays are especially important for Romanians here in Bucovina. This is a most interesting part of the country. Old and new have melded into a rich co-existence. Many of them return to their hometowns to spend the holidays with friends and family. This group grew up here as classmates and have a very special bond that comes of sharing a classroom for four years and often even longer. These friendships last lifetimes here. This group is home to share the holidays with dear friends and family. There is a couple who is working in Ireland where wages are much higher than here. There is an Italian who proved to be an excellent cook. There are several who work in a nebulous "elsewhere" who did not elaborate. All of these people are making boatloads more money than they can here and so they have left for better pickings. They return every year at the holidays to renew lifelong friendships.

The mountain climbs a little higher from the back of the the captain's cabana. Several people had arrived on snowmobiles. They had a grand time racing to the very tippy top of the mountain in the light of the full moon. We watched the headlights as they weaved through the pine trees and finally came out in to the clearing at the summit. What a thrill! We had to call up for a ride as cars could not negotiate the steep incline, not to mention the road was not more than a deer path at times. We were picked up by a four wheel drive vehicle with a right hand steering wheel. I was not able to take any good pictures. The ones I took, even with the fastest exposure are completely blurred. We bumped our way all the way up there. Maybe in the daylight it would have been more sedate, but this evening, it was a wild ride.

We spent a rousing evening eating and talking and dancing and carousing. Romanians can put away an enormous amount of food. At every meal Romanians eat like lumberjacks and never seem to be full. They are always snacking on whatever is available. At this particular cabana is on the top of Toaca Mountain and for the few hours I was there, three huge meals were served. None of them struck me as traditional Romanian fare, but all of it was wonderful. I watched all of them eat each meal as if it were their last. I have no idea where they put it all.

The cabana is near the top of the central mountain, as viewed from town. It is a lovely chalet finished in knobby pine. I felt like I was in Michigan's northern woods. The front door opens onto a bird's eye view of the city. Two rivers flow through Gura Humorului. Houses and little factories stretch for several kilometers along them. From here the odd village geography is noticeable. Villages I have known in other countries are little groups of houses clustered around a central square with a number of streets intersecting so that no one is far from anyone else. The square is the center of village life with the shops and governmental buildings.

Here it is not that way. Villages grew up along the river banks and travel routes in ribbons. Each house is located next to its neighbor in a long string of opposing houses. This seems to be the way of it throughout Romania. This is the structure of a German village. The houses were built close together in rows with high fence lines so that invading forces could not get to the people. Apparently, the invaders marched through towns but could only fight those foolhardy few in the streets as they could not penetrate the houses and, not knowing how many they would face behind the high, fortified fences, did not venture in. In this manner the invaders passed through, leaving the inhabitants alone. (Why they didn't just march down the back of the houses is beyond me, but then I was not a military strategist in medieval times when these villages were first formed.) The huge Christmas tree in the Centru is a beacon for all.

In towns, the ribbons may be two or three streets deep, but still the general makeup is a three to five mile long ribbon of houses with their gardens and animals stretched out behind. Some of these houses are placed so near to the mountain that the gardens are on a steep incline as they trace their way uphill. Many houses are decorated for the holidays with twinkling lights. From here they look like fairy lights dancing in the moonlight. It is a full moon and there is something magical in the air this evening.

There was music playing the entire evening. Quite an eclectic collection. Traditional Romanian, Hungarian, Irish, and I am not sure of the origins of some of the other traditional pieces. There was lots of modern dance music. Romanians can dance. All of them. It is not like America where only girls dance. This evening it was mostly the men dancing. They knew all the traditional dances – the Serbian circle dance and even the dance of the Russian Cossacks. They whirled and twirled to some Hungarian tunes. I learned the tango as well as a number of Romanian and Hungarian dances this evening. This is not a group hug, but a whirling dervish of a dance that comes from Hungary I think they said. I have seen it several times and so it must be quite popular here.

There was a roaring fire outside for roasting the traditional shish kabobs. I know there is a Romanian word for them but I can never remember it. There is something to be said for the warming effects of twika, as you will notice that only one of us is wearing a coat. Although we were out there for some time and it did not seem cold. I am sure it must have been. Tending the fire was great fun. There is something about a fire that is completely mesmerizing.

This fellow had a whole repertoire of whistles. It seems that for mountain people, this is an excellent way to communicate. There is a whistle for, "I am heading to the left," "I am heading to the right," Wait for me," "Wait there," and any number of other messages. Apparently, there are whistles to indicate danger and all sorts of things. Since that night I have listened to whistles in town and sure enough, they are distinct and each one is very different. I never knew there was a reason for learning to whistle. I had always thought it was just for amusement. And there is whistling that goes with the traditional music. It is shrill and nearly overpowers the music itself. An interesting phenomenon that grows on you now seems perfectly normal.