Snowy Romanian Christmas

One of the lovely characteristics of Romanians is how hospitable and generous they are. In the 5 years we spent in their country we were never on our own for Christmas.

One year a young couple who were good friends invited us to stay with them. They had just moved to a village, which was a new experience for them as they are both townies. It’s part of the Romanian dream, to own a home of your own in the beautiful countryside. It wasn’t their house, mind you – he had recently been ordained and it was the priest’s house in their village parish – but they were excited to be able to live the dream.

When we arrived they were busy wrestling with all sorts of unforeseen problems. Winters in Romania can be bitter and go on for months. The well had frozen up. So had the flush loo. Aure had not got used to the cooker. But they did have a plentiful supply of wood, and two wood-burning heaters in the house.  They had installed a modern one in our bedroom, which was great, provided I fed it every time I got up in the night.

We had to go through their room, which doubled as the sitting room, in order to go to the loo in the night … and with 5 people using it, and not able to flush it, it became somewhat – well, you can imagine. The shower of course didn’t work, but I got round that, by borrowing a pan of water and putting it on the heater in our room. With a bowl and a towel and the door firmly shut I managed to fight the BO in relative comfort.

Carol singers are big at Christmas in Romania, but Aure’s baking had all gone to pot, and she was panicking when we arrived.  You always expect to feed carol singers with cakes and a drink when they come, and she did not have enough.  I joined her in cutting up cakes into little portions, and spreading the icing so it looked more.  I also entertained them with the story of how 40 student carol singers had visited me unexpectedly, and I had totally forgotten about the need to feed them, and I only had one cozonac loaf for everyone (sort of sweet bread with cinnamon or poppy seeds swirled through the middle).

I cut it very small, I said, very very small …  Aure and Nicu were helpless with laughter, and there turned out to be plenty for their carol singers, who came in waves.

They were very embarrassed about our helping them with chores.  In Romania, they said, we expect to look after our visitors and do everything for them.  Don’t be daft, we said.  We’re not visitors, we’re family.  Hand over the tea towel.  They did, reluctantly.

Hub went out with Nicu the next morning to break the ice in the well and bring in a bucket of water, then it was off to church for the service.  It was a little unheated wooden church, and of course in the Orthodox church everyone stands.  We were all wrapped up like Russian dolls, and packed to the walls, which was the only way to keep less than freezing.

Halfway through the service I realised I had been listening to a susurration, and had wondered why people were talking throughout the worship.  Then I realised.  In the Orthodox church the priest stands behind the iconostasis screen (which is painted with angels and saints and goes across the width of the church). He recites or sings the whole service, and the congregation only join in a couple of times.  But in this church, people were whispering the priest’s words under their breath, making them their own. Their devotion was all around me, and joined with my own, although I come from a very different tradition.  It’s one of the memories I treasure.

(image from https://romanianonline.com with thanks)