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LOCURI DE POPAS Peaceful Retreats 64<br />
® f‚nea]\, pentru acelea[i `ndeletniciri nobile [i aduc\toare de voie<br />
bun\...<br />
Iar dac\ ai apucat s\ devii oaspetele unei gospod\rii din acestea ale bucovinenilor,<br />
„la pensiune“, cum se poart\ vorba mai nou, `n zilele noastre,<br />
`n grea cump\n\ [i primejdie se afl\ silueta. Pentru gazde, oaspetele nu<br />
mai e nici dom’ doctor, nici dom’ profesor, nici dom’ arhitect, ci doar un<br />
copil oleac\ mai r\s\rit, c\ruia trebuie musai s\ i se fac\ toate hat‚rurile [i<br />
s\ i se mul]umeasc\ toate poftele, ba chiar s\ i se mai a]‚]e [i altele,<br />
necunoscute or\[eanului anchilozat. Balmo[ul - m\m\ligu]a fiart\ `n<br />
sm‚nt‚n\, c\rnurile suculente ale porcului, c‚rna]ii, caltabo[ul, sl\ninu]a,<br />
supa r\d\u]ean\, ca un balsam buc\t\resc pentru gur\ [i stomac... Acum,<br />
venind vorba despre aceast\ vestit\ sup\ r\d\u]ean\, mul]i adoratori ai<br />
s\i, fermeca]i de virtu]ile [i deliciile d‚nsei, s-au repezit s\-i g\seasc\<br />
r\d\cinile gastronomice pe la chefurile boiere[ti ale veacurilor trecute ori,<br />
mai [tii, pe la curtea marelui {tefan. Crunt\ dezam\gire, minun\]ia nu e<br />
mai v‚rstnic\ de un deceniu [i-a fost scornit\ de o gospodin\ vrednic\ de<br />
prin partea locului. Fie ce-o fi `ns\, lipsa ei de experien]\ (a supei!) nu<br />
`nseamn\ nimic pe l‚ng\ simfonia de nuan]e a gustului, cobor‚t\ de-a<br />
dreptul din filarmonica zeiasc\ a gastronomiei bucovinene...<br />
... OAMENII, CU LINI{TEA...<br />
Dac\ ai nimerit t\r‚mul `n plin\ explozie a S\rb\torilor de iarn\, `nt‚lne[ti<br />
la tot pasul cete de copii [i adolescen]i, costuma]i `n personaje de mit<br />
s\tesc, m\[ti grote[ti, uniforme caricaturale, bumbi str\lucitori, straie mi-<br />
]oase [i panglici multicolore. Toba ]ine ritmul [i cizmele trop\ie pe caldar‚m.<br />
Dar dup\ g\l\gia vesel\ a drumurilor, oriunde-ai porni r\zbe[ti cu ochii<br />
[i cu sufletul `ntr-un sf‚nt l\ca[ bisericesc... M\n\stirile bucovinene trebuie<br />
c\lcate [i cercetate cu pasul, nu mai mult de una... hai, dou\ pe zi... Nu `ntr-un<br />
standardizat tur vilegiaturistic, ci `ntr-un pelerinaj molcom [i sincer,<br />
nu numai pentru fotografii, ci mai degrab\ pentru o or\ pe una din b\ncile<br />
din curte, cu privirea pe zugr\velile minunate ale me[terilor, `n lini[tea vindec\toare<br />
de toate bolile a marginii dintre lumea exterioar\ [i cea interioar\.<br />
O m\icu]\ nu mai `nalt\ dec‚t un copil `nconjoar\ pere]ii Moldovi]ei, f\c‚nd<br />
s\ r\sune toaca pe care o car\ pe um\r. B\t\ile reverbereaz\ `n coastele<br />
`n\l]imilor. De la f‚nt‚n\, oamenii beau pe r‚nd ap\ dintr-o can\ de tabl\.<br />
La intrare, `n chio[c, o m\icu]\ vinde iconi]e, lum‚n\ri [i m\t\nii, iar sfiala<br />
n-o las\ s\ ridice ochii nici c‚nd `i num\r\ restul cump\r\torului. Oamenii<br />
aprind lum‚n\ri, pentru cei mor]i, ca [i pentru cei vii.<br />
... VARA, CU P|DURILE...<br />
Vara, `ntinderea f‚ne]elor [i a p\[unilor se dezv\luie cople[itoare. ~]i<br />
vine greu s\ crezi c\ mai exist\ pe p\m‚nt spa]ii at‚t de vaste, verzi [i<br />
`nsorite, ne`ngr\dite cu beton [i fier forjat. Casele Bucovinei stau coco]ate<br />
m‚ndre nevoie mare pe rotunjimile fertile, parc\ mereu dornice de oaspe]i<br />
[i ospe]ii. Sunt `mpodobite cu dragoste, din cap p‚n\-n picioare. Cu at‚ta<br />
lemn `n jur, cald [i prietenos, confortul, a[a cum l-am `nv\]at `n „jungla<br />
urban\“, `[i pierde atrac]iile de mucava. St\p‚ne[te un altfel de confort `n<br />
aceste ]inuturi, unul care `ndulce[te sufletul mai degrab\ dec‚t ocrote[te<br />
spinarea. Pe uli]ele satului M\n\stirea Humorului, toat\ lumea d\ din cap<br />
a bine]e. E soare, ni[te femei vrednice au scos la privit [i ales cojoace, ilice,<br />
fe]e de mas\ brodate, c\m\[i de borangic. Un nene s-a coco]at pe coama<br />
acoperi[ului [i drege o sp\rtur\ `n [i]a neagr\ de vreme, boc\nind ritual.<br />
Munca l-a f\cut s\ lepede haina groas\ [i s\-[i descheie c\ma[a la g‚t, dar<br />
p\streaz\ pe cre[tet c\ciula de oaie. Totul p‚n\ la c\ciul\...<br />
P\durea a[teapt\ peste tot `n jur [i dac\ ai apucat pe unul din drumurile<br />
t\ietorilor de lemne, parc\ nu te-ai mai `ntoarce `napoi. Mii de brazi se<br />
`nfioar\ to]i odat\, la fiecare pal\ de v‚nt, cel mai mare cor din univers, de<br />
[oapte [i vorbe ne`n]elese, despre tot ce-a fost [i-o s\ mai fie. ∫<br />
O m\icu]\ înconjoar\ pere]ii Moldovi]ei<br />
A nun circles around the walls of Moldivitza Church<br />
® tleties, descended right from the<br />
divine philharmonic of Bucovina’s<br />
cuisine...<br />
THE PEOPLE AND THEIR<br />
TRANQUILITY...<br />
If you just reached that realm<br />
in the blistering time of the winter<br />
holidays, you will meet everywhere<br />
groups of children and<br />
teenagers, dressed in the costumes<br />
of some countryside myths, furry<br />
gowns and multicolored ribbons.<br />
The drum marks the rhythm and<br />
the boots stump the pavement.<br />
But after the joyous racket of<br />
the streets, wherever you were<br />
heading you will reach with your<br />
eyes and your soul a sacred place...<br />
The monasteries of Bucovina must<br />
be visited by foot, no more then<br />
one, well, let’s say two a day... Not<br />
through a standardized agency<br />
tour, but by a slow and sincere pilgrimage,<br />
not only for photos, but<br />
rather for spending an hour on a<br />
church bench, eyeing the wonderful<br />
paintings of ancient craftsmen,<br />
in the all-healing silence of the<br />
border between outside and inner<br />
world.<br />
A nun no taller than a child circles<br />
around the walls of Moldovitza<br />
Church, making the bell<br />
board on her shoulder sound.<br />
The drumming reverberates<br />
on the hill slopes. People drink<br />
water from the well with tin mugs,<br />
one after another. At the gate, in a<br />
kiosk, a nun sells small icons, candles<br />
and rosaries, her shyness<br />
keeping her to look up even when<br />
counting the change. People light<br />
candles, for the dead and for the<br />
living alike.<br />
THE SUMMER AND ITS<br />
FORESTS...<br />
In the summer, a blending of<br />
meadows and pastures overwhelmingly<br />
reveals itself. It is<br />
hard to believe that there are still<br />
such vast surfaces, so green and<br />
sunny, unrestrained by concrete<br />
and iron. The houses of Bucovina<br />
lay proudly poised on the fertile<br />
hills, always eager to accustom<br />
guests. They are adorned with<br />
great care, from floor to the roof.<br />
With so much wood around,<br />
warm and friendly, the comfort, as<br />
we learned it from the “urban jungle“,<br />
loses its papier-mache charm.<br />
Another kind of comfort rules this<br />
land, one that rather soothes the<br />
soul than protecting the body.<br />
On the streets of Manastirea<br />
Humorului village everybody<br />
nods him or her “good day“. It’s<br />
sunny, a few industrious women<br />
expose for watching and buying<br />
sheepskin gowns, vests, embroidered<br />
table cloths, raw silk shirts.<br />
A man is poised on the ridge of his<br />
roof and fixes a hole in the wooden<br />
shingles blackened by time, ritually<br />
hammering. The work made<br />
him abandoning his thick coat and<br />
unbuttoning his collar, but he still<br />
keeps his sheepskin cap. Everything<br />
but the cap....<br />
The forest waits everywhere<br />
around, and if you just took one of<br />
the lumberjacks paths you will never<br />
feel the desire to return. Thousands<br />
firs tremble in unique movements,<br />
at every breeze, the<br />
biggest choir in the Universe, of<br />
whispers and words hard to comprehend,<br />
about what it was and<br />
what is to be. ∫
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