Sima

Sima is Nicole's uncle.
He fishes, takes care of the chickens and rabbits, and makes moonshine.

Here he is introducing us to his specialties.

I tried them all.

One tasted like gasoline. Another tasted like red gasoline and the other like berry gasoline.

Paul didn't like them much either.

Sima is quite the character. His mother passed away a few months ago and he decided to not cut his hair for a year. It's not a Romanian custom, just a Sima custom.

It's difficult to find work in Romania. Eva's sister Sandy is working in Italy caring for an elderly woman, and Sima lives with Iovana.

Gornea

I love Gornea.
Mostly I was pushed around Gornea in my wheelchair and I felt like a queen. I was never alone of course. There were usually several family members escorting me. Neighbors would anticipate our trips from Maria's to Iovana's for mealtime and they'd sit outside awaiting the procession. I would always greet them with "bona zewa" much to everyone's delight.
Sometimes I'd walk using my wheelchair as a walker.

Iovana's garden.

The cemetary in Gornea where generations of Nicole's ancestors are buried.

Sketching in Gornea

Village life is very communal and friendly. Neighbors bring a stool and gather to visit in the afternoon. Here we are with neighbors sitting outside Iovana's home. The man in the straw hat is Ion Dragomir, Eva's former teacher and Sima, Eva's brother-in-law is standing in the doorway

Earlier in the afternoon everyone had gone for a walk and I was alone at Iovana's. She brought me out where she was visiting with several neighbor women. While they chatted (in Romanian, of course) I started a sketch of the house across the street that belonged to Mineva. The women soon scooted their chairs around me so they could watch my drawing. They would watch my hand and then my eyes. I could tell they were talking about how I looked up at the house, and down at my drawing, and then up and down again. When I added another detail of the the architecture they would all look in unison at the house and nod in approval.
Early in my sketch Mileva's husband Petrica came out and stood in the afternoon sun. He was unaware of my drawing, but stood still enough that I could sketch him in. When he began to fidget the women all scolded him to stand still. He was embarrassed to be in my drawing but he didn't move a muscle.
When I painted in the black flag of mourning, Mileva began to cry. They lost their teenage son quite suddenly several months ago and the whole village is still grieving.

In the late afternoon these neighbor children came out with their mother and were quite entertaining for our little group. The little girl had on sandals that flickered and beeped with every step. She pranced along and we all laughed hysterically, which encouraged her to do it again. Laughter is a universal language and the delight of children is always a source of joy.

Iovana is 72 yrs old and she rides this Turtle Back all around town.

Churches and Shrines
in Romania

The churches and shrines were one of our favorite things in Romania.
Nearly 90% of Romania is Romanian Orthodox.

Since Maria and Iovana are now Baptist, one of their neighbors offered to take me to the village Orthodox Church on Sunday. Eastern Orthodox churches are always highly decorated with painted icons and gold embellishments. This small village church had a sanctuary the size of a living room with very simple icons covering the walls and ceiling. Instead of gold embellishments, there were yellow and orange decorated borders. Many of the worshipers, stood through the entire mass.

The Eastern Orthodox liturgical cycle is based on a different calendar from the West, so their Easter season does not coincide with ours. The Sunday I was there happened to be their Pentecost celebration and the service lasted three hours instead of the usual two. There is always lots of chanting, incense and stand up/sit down. Mileva found a chair for me and put her hand on my shoulder, giving me permission to sit through the stand up parts.

A collection basket was brought around many times during the service. I didn’t have very much money with me and by the third go-around I was tearing Romanian ron (paper money) out of my travel journal. After I ran dry, Mileva took an extra coin each time, tapped it to my shoulder to indicate it was for me, and dropped it into the basket. I felt so bad because these are not rich people and I was sure each coin was very precious.

Later in the week I asked Nicole to talk to Mileva and see if I could replace her coins. Of course she said no, it was for the Church. So I gave her a small stone icon shrine that I’d purchased at the monastery gift shop. She was so moved and thankful, we both cried. The next day she brought me several small pieces of vintage macrame that were family heirlooms. I picked out one and tried to return the rest, but she insisted I take them all. They reminded her of her recently deceased son and made her sad, plus she wanted me to always remember Gornea.
How could I forget?

Unfortunately we didn't get a picture of the church in Gornea.

There were shrines all along the sides of the road in Romania.


Some looked like memorials and were probably the sites of fatal accidents. Many looked as though they were grave markers and more than likely the bodies were buried there.

Many were just holy places along the road.
Because it was still Easter season, many were decorated with rings or bouquets of flowers.