Past Is Present in Romanian Festivals

The summer after my first full-time job supplied (barely) the dollars for an airline ticket, I headed to Europe. That was many years ago, but the idea of travel being the reward for work never died. Somewhere along the way, as the destinations became more remote and thus, more expensive, I decided to try supplementing both my income and trip experiences with travel writing. It was a natural fit. While naming a single country as my favorite has proven impossible, Romania would certainly appear on any short list. Following my first visit in 1988, I returned more than a dozen times, driving my own Romanian-made Dacia from virtually one end of the country to the other. Perhaps Romania’s mountains and villages played a role in my decision to move from the New York metropolitan area to the town of 2,300 people in south-central Montana where I live now. It wouldn’t be the only influence Romania has had on my life.

Few people in today’s world continue and cherish their age-old customs as do the villagers of Romania. Hardly a week passes without a religious or secular festival somewhere in this eastern European country. A number of the most colorful take place between Christmas and New Year’s.

Tucked into the country’s northwestern corner, hard by the border with Ukraine, the region of Maramures is a land of 15th century wooden churches, elaborately carved towering gates rising before even modest homes, and unique music and dress. Many consider it the most unspoiled area in all Europe. Even here, however, one date – December 27 – stands out as a time for celebrating traditional culture. On this day, the normally less-than-charming town of Sighetu Marmatiei, popularly known as Sighet, is transformed for the Festivalul Datinilor de Iarna, or Winter Festival.

Masks hang from lampposts and people (overwhelmingly local) pack the streets. More masks – part demon, part animal, part indescribable – hide the faces of young men who run through the crowd as oversized cowbells hanging from their waists clang loudly. Far from idle Halloween fun, masks, here, have a long history, symbolizing fertility, the passing and renewal of time and the good and bad aspects of human nature. By the time the procession gets underway, everyone has caught the excitement and their anticipation matches that of teens at a rock concert.

Accompanied by music, 40 to 50 groups, representing virtually every village in Maramures, pass along the main street. All are in traditional dress, meaning, for girls and women, stiff white blouses with flounces and puffy sleeves, flowered skirts partially covered by striped woven front and back panels, headscarves, embroidered black woolen vests, thick knee-high socks, a stiff ballet-type shoe called opinci which laces criss-cross fashion over the socks, and white or black woolen jackets. Large homemade bags, usually of a black and white checked design, hang by long twisted wool from shoulders. Periodically, some walkers reach into the bags to toss rice or grain toward viewers, representing both prosperity and the ridding of bad fortune. Boys and men don similar jackets or white, long-haired cloaks, wide-legged white pants, loose shirts held in at the waist by tooled leather belts and tall hats of curly black or gray wool.

When a group reaches the reviewing stand, they earn a few minutes in the spotlight for a carol, folk dance, or tune on old instruments such as the tambita, an extremely long horn also known as the bucium,and the buhai, a small barrel-type object through which horsehairs are pulled, producing a sound not unlike the bellowing of an ox.

Some young men ride fine horses with evergreen and ribbons braided into the manes and tails and tassels hanging from the bridles. Gorgeous handmade saddle cloths are ablaze with colorful patterns of flowers.Signaling the procession’s end, a horse-drawn sleigh filled with white-jacketed youths, musicians and of course, Santa Claus passes by.

In many villages, especially in the northeastern province of Moldavia, December 31 is the big day – not eve, mind you, but morning. The tradition-packed outdoor event I attended in Verona, a 45-minute drive from the city of Suceava, is typical. Neither participants nor onlookers were daunted by the chilly weather and snow.

First, a choir of schoolgirls sang old carols. Heavy jackets failed to completely hide their embroidered blouses, flowered belts, and long striped skirts from which the lacy edges of white underskirts peeked. Colorful hand-woven shoulder bags and black head scarves completed the outfits, which are unique to the area.

Soon, this idyllic scene gave way to the whistles and shouts of young men who galloped out for a spirited dance of the caiuti, or horses. Not real animals this time, but white cloth horse heads attached to the dancers’ waists and adorned with embroidery, tassels and a multitude of colored pom poms. The allotted space may have been small, but that didn’t hinder the amazingly fast foot movements, punctuated by high kicks and boot-slaps.

In olden days, white horses were believed to be messengers bringing life and luck. The dance symbolizes the bond between farmers and the animals that pull their wagons and aid in working the land.

A clack, clack, clack meant the capra, or goat, was approaching. A guaranteed crowd pleaser, the carved wooden head is attached to a long pole which the bearer manipulates to noisily open and close the mouth as he dances around. Any resemblance to a real-life creature has been disguised with long ribbons, a towering headdress and whatever other adornments flashed into the creator’s mind.

This dance once foretold an increase in shepherds’ flocks, as well as abundant crops in the new year. Today’s antics are lighthearted, with many a satirical reference to the manners and morals of the villagers.

If you enjoyed this article, you might also like to read about similar festivals and about one of the most well-known summer events "Maidens' fair" in our Past is present in Romanian festivals – part 2.

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