Back from a week-long trip in Transylvania. Interesting, its name: according to one of our more credible tour guides, the name, given by the Hungarian Kingdom, meant “beyond the forests”, as you need to cross the Carpathian Mountains to get there. “Saxon” cities here have clearly felt differences with Bucharest and the more “Hungarian” cities like Cluj. For example, the architecture—big, triangular, red roofs, with the eye-shaped attic vents with many (well, not all credible) legends; fortified churches, which also speak about the critical position of this region between political powers; and the general prevalence of Lutheran churches. Speaking of which, the presence of churches in Romania is extremely strong—they are basically everywhere. A sharp contrast to China, where churches are not very visible. Different denominations of Christianity also often occupied the same spaces. In Sibiu, there is a street with a Lutheran church, an Orthodox church, a Unitarian church, and a Catholic church. In Cluj, the St. Michael’s Church (nowadays Catholic) operated as Catholic, Lutheran, and Unitarian over its several hundred years of history. The Greek Catholic religion is also very interesting, as a religion with Orthodox rites, but in communion with the Pope in Rome. It is a combination between the Orthodox tradition and a connection with the Latin/“Western” space, in this “Central European” region.
In Romania, since the 19th century, religion has also been deeply connected to the nationalist movement. A symbol of Romanians gaining political ground in Transylvania was the construction of the Orthodox Cathedral in Sibiu. Later, as a symbol of Romanian unification after WWI, an Orthodox Church was also built in Alba Iulia for the coronation of Ferdinand I, Romania’s second king. Similarly, in Cluj, after unification, the Orthodox Church on Avram Iancu square was built “for the future”, despite much of the population there being Greek Catholic at the time. Even in the 21st century, we still have the construction of the National Cathedral in Bucharest, and Romanian flags are still common inside and outside Orthodox churches. Indeed, as one of our lecturers at Babeş-Bolyai University said, Romania is Orthodox “by definition”. It’s not just churches either: we have Michael the Brave statues everywhere: in Bucharest, Cluj, even Alba Iulia. It feels almost amusing and reassuring to see those, the feeling of: “Ah, he’s here again”. Perhaps this is part of the value of an off-campus program: to not only learn in class that he is an important part of the Romanian nationalist narrative, but also to feel, and almost uncontrollably/passively judge his actual presence in the country today, as an “outsider” to that nationalist narrative.
That’s really all my comments on the culture side. Now, some personal experiences. We had a workshop where we made local masks from stitching together pieces of cloth. I really liked the “creating” part of it, this continuous experience of focus. Learning while doing, experimenting, attending to details… I wonder why I don’t do it more, as the majority of my time is spent passively absorbing, perceiving, understanding, judging. Perhaps this dynamic is part of why Sebastian/the narrator in For Two Thousand Years enjoys architecture and building models? Also, there seems to be some charm in walking to any destination. Taking time outside, slowing down, feeling movement, and seeing familiar buildings again and again.
I was really impressed by the villages and natural landscape along our drives. Part of it is their quiet but not empty “naturalness”. Perhaps there really is something impressive about things that just “happen naturally”. Animals roaming around. Sometimes I think there is almost a kind of wisdom in the way we related to the cats and dogs we saw: “indifference,” as Sebastian might call it—walking together for a while, separating without drama, showing kindness without possession, accepting irreducible difference. All imagination, of course, from my perspective. Another part is landscapes: mountains, rivers, woods…that sheer vastness and scale can clear all my thoughts and worries, with the desire to just become part of it. I don’t generally have the same feeling for cities? Then the infrastructure (e.g. dam) built by people on top of these vast landscapes brings up another sort of fascination and appreciation.
Interestingly, it seems like a lot of what I’m seeing and reflecting are based on the readings and courses for this program, whether it’s nationalism or Sebastian. It is a limited perspective, and I may come to different thoughts on another occasion. But this may also be part of the purpose of such a program—to see the place with the perspective learned in class. It was interesting listening to stories that give context and fun to the places I stood on, and to experience things independent of my friends and family. Now I’m back in Bucharest, back to school.