To Market, To Market, To Buy a Fat Pig; Part Two

After the market in Bogvan Voda, I have decided that every other market I have ever seen--except the Tibetan market at Namche Bazaar--is just tourist sham. Sometimes very nice, and interesting stuff, but not the "real" thing. Here, there are no stores, no Walmarts, nothing. Most everyone is relatively self-sufficient with their gardens and animals and crafts, and the market--we assume this is a monthly market--is where such commerce as there is takes place. Needless to say, we were the only outsiders there, but no one seemed to notice us, really. In high season, it is a relatively heavily-touristed place. But not now. We haven't seen any other campers since entering Romania.

The guidebooks we are using make much of the authenticity of all this, the Marmures the last bastion of traditional peasant ways of life in Europe. Some aspects of it are enchanting--the neighborliness and community of the people, sitting out on the benches in front of their houses, visiting, in the evenings. On the other hand, I'd gladly trade seeing all this in museum dioramas or "living" museum acts for improvement in these peoples' standards of living: indoor plumbing and safe water supplies, decent roads and conveyances, maybe even cars and trucks and farm machinery, wider availability of goods, decent health and dental care; even television.

Produce department

Grains

Fat pigs; probably their last meal together....

Used clothing

Locally-made furniture

Non-handmade shoes

Would you like some rebar to go with those new shoes?

Textiles

Bacon and cheese

Everything, cradle to grave...

Local statue of Bogvan Voda, conqueror of old

And Bogvan Voda's stave church

To Market, To Market, To Buy a Fat Pig; Part One

While at our "campsite" at Dragomiresti, we noticed countless horse-drawn carts going up the road to Bogvan Voda as well as cattle being driven there. And we inferred, despite our city-slicking ways, that Monday would be market day there. So we stopped in Bogvan Voda on the way back from Ieud, and, boldly, took in the market. It was an experience, worth two posts at least!

All along the road, for miles, coming and going, pedestrians

and carts headed for the market; carts often stopping to pick

up friends, neighbors, relatives

At the entry to the market, simply an alley opening onto a

large field

Yarn department

Hats...very tempting, except Vicki would kill me if I bought

another hat...

Handmade shoes

Cattle and horse sale, where the real action was

Horse power

Lunch

Wooden Church at Ieud

From Dragomiresti we drove on, past Bogvan... and turned off the main road to Ieud and its wooden churches.

Local color department: while the older structures are pretty

drab, the newer homes and businesses are definitely not...

On the road to Ieud

The church and cemetery at Ieud; these churches are very

similar to the stave churches so famous in Norway

Interior: a man noticed us gawking from outside the

cemetery, produced the key to the church, and let us

in to look around

Altar

Priestly vestments

Main chamber

In the cemetery, ripe plums in the trees; ah, memories of

the recipe for plum torte we got from Greg Patent and the

tortes which Vicki made every autumn in Missoula;

locally, the plums go into a potent moonshine brandy

The church and the nice man who let us in

(we left 10 lei in the offering plate)

Dragomiresti Monastery

We drove on, deeper into the Marmures, in search of the famed wooden churches, of monasteries, and of the peasant way of life that persists here.

So Vicki has formulated this theory, namely, The Monastical

Theory of Encampment, that, in this heavily devout country,

no one will bother us if we are parked outside the monastery;

indeed, people driving by, whole tour buses, actually cross

themselves; anyhow, we tried it, with success, at the

Dragomiresti Monastery; happily, so far as we have seen,

monasteries outnumber gas stations in Romania by about 3 to 1

The front gate, beautifully carved

I walked up the hill to check out the

monastery

Not one of the ancient ones

In the courtyard

But it did have a fairly typical wooden

church, for which the region is famous

And later in the evening, aplenglow on one

of the Vlad the Impaler haystacks;

haystackenglow?

Stop, Look, and Listen!

In our first few days' driving in Romania we had been approaching RR crossings with great caution...rightly so, it turns out

So here we are back in Sighetul Marmatiei (relieved to be

back in Romania, with our camper/home)

At the apparently disused railroad yard; note weeds...

But wait, who's this guy in the uniform on the bicycle with

the yellow flag?

He has just manually lowered the crossing barriers and is

riding hastily, ahead of the train, to lower the next...

And there's the train, very old and worn cars, with five (we

counted) passengers

The engineer waving

And after it has passed, our man with the yellow flag raises

the barriers and rides on to his next appointed rounds

Remember: Stop, Look, and Listen!

From the Former USSR with Love

At Sigheta there is a new bridge across the Tiso to the Ukraine, former USSR. A little bit of paper work, a walk in the rain, and there you are...

Even before Sapanta, we noticed road signs in Russian as well as Romanian

We did not dare take pix of the border facilities, but you can

see the new bridge in this Ukraine billboard, at the crossing;

I think it says "Your capitalist wolves' taxes at work..."

From the bridge, Romania on the left, Ukraine on the right; River Tiso in the middle

So there we are, past the border station and its frowny-faced guards

Just like in Romania, unfinished buildings

Welcome to Slatina

The village church; note variety of construction materials

One or two very nice houses; most not so nice

There were exactly two stores open, both

very limited general merchandise, staples,

beer; nothing in the way of souvenirs or

trinkets, not even post-cards; not unlikely

we were the first Americanskis to venture

this way

OK, now we've been to the Ukraine; alas, not much to show

for it but stamps on our passports, but we did it

PS For those wondering why we did not venture further into this fascinating land, the Ruskies generally, in whatever their former-states, are not particularly welcoming of independent travelers, and especially of those in RVs; we have an acquaintance who did the Ukraine recently in an RV, but he was part of an organized caravan (convoy), that is, a tour. Next time. Or more likely, the time after that.