On the morning of Friday, November 4th I was enjoying my usual three-hour break between classes when my Counterpart called. She wanted to know if I would be interested in seeing a presentation on viticulture that was schedule to take place at the Wine Institute across the street in ten minutes. I responded in the affirmative with the caveat that I would have to be back for my 12 o’clock class. As it happens, the day evolved in such a way that could only happen in Romania. A fun series of events unfolded that kept me from school until late into the afternoon.
Shortly after her initial call, my Counterpart swung by my house to whisk me off to the presentation. We arrived at the Wine Institute in turn and walked in a few minutes late. As we entered the main doors, my Counterpart advised that I should pick up a stone from the ground and bite it; this is apparently a tradition for Romanians when they visit a new place for the first time. As fun as chewing on rocks sounded, I cordially declined the offer, deferring to the potentially angry dentist voice in my head. The next forty-five minutes was filled with abundantly informed PowerPoint slides with Romanian narration. As best as I could tell in what little Romanian I could understand was that they were presenting on their latest research; strides they had made in yeast strain production, soil analysis and area specific grape varietal selection. The presentation was about as interesting as any house red wine, but as dry as the driest. The fun, though unexpected, part came next.
As it happened, this presentation coincided with the opening of a new wine museum at the Wine Institute. On display are artifacts of the centuries past viticulture in Valea Călugărească, from simple farm equipment to microscopes and hydrometers. Additionally, there were several vintage, dusty, though full, wine bottles in display cases from decades past (corks up, oops). Lucky for us, the grand opening of the new museum included a wine tasting; though you should keep in mind that I was still expecting to return to my classes in short order. After a brief introduction of each wine, the moderator poured two white wines and then two red wines, as is typical fashion. We were each given rating cards to play along as amateur judges and plenty of bread and cheese to cleanse the palate between each contestant. As the wine tasting was wrapped up my Counterpart insisted on introducing me to the Director of the Wine Institute. I had actually been speaking with her husband, who works/volunteers at my high school, about holding English classes for the technicians at the institute.
This is essentially where my schedule for the day was tossed out like an empty bottle of Cakebread. Unbeknown to us, they had an entire day of activities planned and the presentation/museum opening was just the beginning. Hearing the Peace Corps dove on my shoulder whispering encouragingly “Never turn down an invitation,” I agreed to tag along and my Counterpart arranged to have my afternoon classes covered. From there, the thirty or so participants piled into a caravan of cars and headed off to the next destination, Muzeul Conacul Bellu or Museum of the Bellu Mansion.
Located down the street in the town of Urlați, we drove up the gravel driveway of the old majestic house the Bellu Family called home decades ago. The mansion has since been converted into a museum where many of the family’s old luxuries are preserved and displayed. This was in an era where each room seemed to have it’s own theme; like the Turkish Smoking Room or the Japanese Sitting Room. Each was colorfully decorated with objects that were supposedly obtained from the respective regions. My favorite part of this tour was not the dainty details of the rooms upstairs, it was the basement cellar. Immediately and noticeably colder downstairs, the walls are lined with used wine barrels and very old artifacts of wine production all the way back to small boulders that had been carved out for grape stomping and open air fermentation. The highlight for me was the secret room hidden behind a massive wine barrel; the room supposedly placed there to hide prized wines from warring looters.
Next was a visit to another museum building down the hill on the same Bellu property. Located here was a building that once acted as a main entrance and tall guard tower for the family. The inside as well as out has been remodeled and maintained in a very inviting way. The tower is about three stories high and has a fun, thin winding staircase inside that takes you up to beautiful views of the countryside. It’s easy to imagine having your morning coffee in the small room at the top, with sunlight beaming in at all times of the year. The midlevel has a broad deck that wraps all the way around and would be great for hanging out during the summer months. As a visitor works their way up the stairs there are rooms that have been adorned with period dresses and black and white photographs, said to have been taken by a member of the family. An onlooker of these photographs could not help but to notice the romantic focus of this photographer’s intentions. Each image’s subject was a young “country woman” with or without parts of the dresses now on display in adjacent rooms.
Having had our fill of museums, we headed off for our next stop across town, Schitul Sfanta Maria-Cricov or roughly translated The Hermitage of Saint Maria-Cricov, which more simply is a really just an old wooden church. Built in 1731 on the complete opposite side of the country in Mureș County, the church was erected without the use of nails. Apparently the joists, beams, etc were all manufactured in such a away that they cleverly fit together like a puzzle and don’t require anything except for gravity to hold them together. Aside from the fact that this entire church was dismantled and moved to just outside of Urlați in the last century, the interior artwork has remained without retouching all this time. The Priest that gave us the structure’s history purported some fantastical stories about the survival of the church, which I accept for what they are. Regardless, he would not have been happy had I told him that I am not Orthodox, as his pride and alliances clearly run very deep.
Finally, we made our way to a local restaurant for some traditional Romanian food. Unfortunately, I had to beg off early, after the Ciorba, because of a prescheduled Peace Corps related Skype meeting (which was later cancelled). Its times like these that prove that life in Valea Călugărească is anything but boring. I have found that if I keep an open mind and except that at a moment’s notice everything could change, and just go with the flow it will all work out and until now, it certainly has.
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