Easter in the Countryside – April 2004

Easter: Red Eggs, Mitei, and Cake:

We said our good-byes to Alex and to Valentina and her family and found ourselves once again on our bikes. It felt good to be biking again. We camped that evening in a secluded woods, far from the surrounding villages. I was happy – here, we could sleep in without any problem.

We awoke the next morning to the sound of cowbells. There were two men heading our direction with their roaming herd of grazing cows. Several of the cows approached us and gazed at us curiously.

We left the cows and bike 100 km. through small villages and run-down, decrepit trains tracks and rail stations in hot, hazy weather. I was fearful of rain falling at any moment, but the weather held out for us. The villages were much the same as the ones we had already passed through, but in addition to the arches on the houses were sometimes Roman-style columns instead.

Again, we found the perfect camping spot (rather rare, recently, considering that the countryside we had passed through had been completely razed for agricultural purposes). I was happy because it would be just the two of us this night. I was tired. And when I’m tired, I like to go to sleep as soon as the tent is pitched. I don’t want to try to converse in a foreign language all night, or even half the night, with people I don’t know. Even if it can turn into an enriching or rewarding experience, sometimes I’m just too tired to make the effort.

We slept in a national forest outside of Slobozia, about 130 km. east of Bucharest, in a place so deep in the forest that all we could hear was the sound of sheep, but no one could see or hear us. It was comforting. I slept very well.

Around noon the next day, we started to hear shouts, then great peals of laughter, and eventually lively gypsy music. It was Easter, and when we exited from our encampment through a great maze of leaves and branches, were we ever surprised. There were people everywhere. It was a great big party. Families, couples, teenagers, friends…everyone was out in force to celebrate. Music was playing from car stereos, children were running after each other, people were laying on big blankets in the grass, teenagers were taking a leisurely turn in the wagon behind their horse, chatting and sipping soda from plastic bottles. A young gypsy flew by barefoot on his perfectly black, perfectly beautiful horse.

The whole scene was cheerful, festive, and the air was permeated by the smell of mitei on the barbecue. For the barbecue was something to be revered on this day more than on any other day of the eyar, Easter marking as it did the end of a six-week renunciation of all pork products. The buchers were happy – they made a killing on Easter. The people were happy – they brought out the barbecue. And more often than not, it was mitei that they ate. It is a Romanian specialty, made of a combination of pork, beef, lamb, and seasoning, rolled like a sausage and grilled on the barbecue. It is excellent. It is said to be even better (more flavorful) when rolled under the armpits!

We hadn’t advance more than 50 m. when two couples sitting on the grass hailed us over. They wanted to share their feast with us. They were very friendly, and we accepted gladly. Ion (Johnny), a tennis teacher, spoke English very well and dreams of going to France one day to see the Rolland-Garros match. Gheorghe, the larger man, was amiable, likeable, and never ceased to complement his wife Ileina’s pastries. “Maestro, maestro,” he kept saying, as he would reach for another and contentedly pat his bulging belly.

We savored the famous mitei, we ate the red Easter eggs, and tried some of the many pastries that Gheorge raved about. The chocolate eclairs were fabulous. We were so happy to have spent the afternoon with a family, especially after being so disappointed about not being able to talk to our family on Easter. They invited us to stay with them for a couple of days, but we chose to move on, seeing as how it was Springtime and was good biking weather. As we got up to go, they packed us the remains of their entire feast – bread, mitei, red eggs, eclairs, pastries – and offered it to us. Lucky us! We had a good dinner waiting for us.

We continued under the hot sun and stopped shortly afterwards for water at a small village named Bucu. The face of an old lady standing at her fence lit up when we approached. She went back to her well with an eager step and returned presently with a wooden bucket full of water. Then, “Just a moment, just a moment…” She fairly skipped back to her house and came back with her arms full of red eggs and cozonac, the special Easter cake – a sort of cinnamon roll.

We sat with her for a bit underneath her flowering cherry tree. She took my face in her hands, caressed it, then petted my hair, kissed both my cheeks, my eyelids, and broke into joyful, mirthful laughter. It was the thrilled wonder of a child, amazed that her in her tiny village of Bucu, Romania, were two tourists from France and from the United States, witting not only in her village, but in her own garden, on her own bench, under her very own cherry tree. She laughed again. Then she bend down and took my knee in her hands. I thought she was going to kiss me there, too. But, no – she bit me instead! She was happy as an otter.

It was often like this with the old women in small-town Romania. They covered me in kisses, they caressed my face, they petted me. Maybe it was partly from the joy of seeing a foreigner in their parts, partly from a nurturing, motherly instinct. For they all thought that I was about 15 years old. Unfailingly asked if Stephane and I were brother and sister, and when I explained that we were married, they looked as if they could scarcely believe it, and thought that I was some young thing that needed protecting from the big, bad world. And they would start to kiss me once again.

All week long, people offered us the red Easter eggs and the cinnamon cake. We had so much, we couldn’t even finish it. All week long – breakfast, snack, dessert, dinner….