Galya and Theo trip to Romania, Grand Finale

Oct 3. Cepari.

We arrived to Cepari – the village in pre-Carpathian hills.

There is something about Cepari and Theo… It is not that this village is any different of any other deep rural Russian villages… but Theo used to come here every summer for 10 or more years… and he is very much attached to it. He is totally different here and even thinking (trying in his mind) if he could live here.

So.. what is it so special about Cepari?

First I should say we are here with Jelu living in his house where he, his parents and grand parents were born. Jelu now lives in Bucharest, work as a professor of French lang in the university. But he is still very much attached with all his heart to cepari, comes here every two weeks or so, and as, Theo says, changes strangely… in the Bucharest he is “The professor”, here, in cepari, he is a peasant in the dear to him environment. And you can see it in the pictures.

Here is also Nutcika (Jelu’s older sister), and her husband, Tiberiu. They live in the little outside of Bucharest where the Romania filmmaking industry is. Tiberiu used to work there as a cinematographer. They both are in their early 80^th now.

So, this is a company, 5 of us. They speak no word of English (Jelu speaks some little). I speak no word of Romanian but I can communicate with Nutcika in “limited” Russian. However… it is hard to explain, we all feel very comfortable and warm with each other. We have a long talk after each meal, or sitting on the terrace in the mid morning or late afternoon. Theo does sometimes interpreting to me or, I somehow, catching the subject of their conversation.

So… I still did not tell what is Cepari like….

It is going to the toilet outside and every time hitting your forehead with hanging apples. Apples are everywhere you look: in abundance on the trees, on the ground, in the grass. At first you immediately want to do something with it: pick them, cook, make juice, jam… you name it. And the unspoken answer is: there is nobody to do it: people are old and can not handle it, and there are no buyers…every neighbor house has the same. Apple orchards are as big as eye can see.

There are cold mornings, and warm sunny days… slow….quiet, transparent autumn days... sun’s warmth is gentle. Such laziness when the only thing you want to do is reading on the terrace, taking your shoes and socks of so feet are bathed in the sun, and entire body id field with warmth… not heat. One arm is hanging down to the floor caressing a spurring kitten.

I t is so quiet here, especially in the early afternoon. I sit on the bench in the shade, read, and the only sound I can hear is the sound of the falling fruit here and there, and once in awhile – the rooster does his kukareku.

When sun is going down and the chill is creeping in you start hear cows sound, and also can smell that jelu started to heat the “pechka” stove burning the wood. It is an unbelievable pleasure to enter the warm room from the cold terrace and feel the warmth of the “pechka” stove. Pechka is oblitcovana (covered?) with glazed tile (izraztcy?).

THE neighbor women usually come and bring pale of milk and freshly squeezed cheese. YOU can see the traces of cheese cloth (marlia) on the big chunk of cheese.

THE usual dinner is freshly made on the stove mamalyga, still puffing hot air, and fresh cheese (tvorog).Neighbors stopping by here and there to chat. Romanian language is like a background.

Mornings are cold, and Jelu hurries up to heat the stove. Kitchen fills in with warmth and a touch of smoke, but the one you like. You hear “potreskivanie” of wood in the fire in the stove… There is something universal in this sound…. The pot with hot milk is on the stove, on the table is a huge loaf of white bread (you can see only in the villages), tvorog, prostokvasha (like yogurt), and olives. Breakfast. Nutcika usually breaks the bread and soaks it in her cup of milk. I am the only one who is having coffee.

At lunch time Tiberiu or Jelu starts the grill. YOU should see this grill: handmade metal rectangular thing (30x20 cm) filled with…. Dry corn sticks in the shape of pyramid. YES!!!! Instead of coal they use corn. Fire the pyramid up, and when it burns down, they put the lattice on top and grill mititee. Romanian mititee is a specialty: it is a ground meat, prepared in such a way that it tastes heavenly… juicy, spicy, and … just great. So, lunch is – chorba: sour vegetable soup (oh… my favorite) and mititee. Sourness of the soup is done with leushtina: it is herb, looks like parsley but has sourness, and very special taste… no analog I know of.

Jelu’s and Nutcika’s property is huge… and totally neglected. THE grass is high. Neighbors cut it to have hay for the winter for their cows and horses.

Jelu and Nutcika both are old; Jelu’s children are not interested in the village life. And Nutcika has no children. Jelu dreams to retire here but he has too many obligations in Bucharest.

Oct 5.

Another day in Cepari (3-d day).

Every day we are taking long walks around the village and in the hills.

Walking around the village and meeting people is very emotional for Theo: he sees houses he and his mom used to rent a room in, he is meeting people who still remember his maid, Joitca, long dead, … It brings lots of memories from his childhood and youth: here he played when he was little, in this house lived a boy Nutcika was in live with, and she would take Theo with him when she goes to see the boy, and what Theo remembers how she gets all read in the face when she sees the boy. Behind this hills lived the girl Jelu was in love with but Jelu’s mom did not like the girl, so Jelu would pretend taking Theo for a walk, and leave him at the middle, going further to see the girl.

Or.. how he would tag along with Jelu and nutcika for the evening dances…

I t is so quiet here, especially in the early afternoon. I sit on the bench in the shade, read, and the only sound I can hear is the sound of the falling fruit, and once in awhile – the rooster does his kukareku.

I read a good book with the great story. The kite Runner by afghani author Khaled Hosseini. He escaped Afghanistan during Russian invasion, came to America, lived in Fremont, and now lives in San Francisco. I think it is somewhat autobiography and also the story about his childhood, his emigration, and his moral obligations which brought him back to Afghanistan in the cruel time of Taliban. The book is about Afghani people, the country how it was and what it became now…. An excellent book, interesting to read, and hard to put down especially for me because somehow I was never really interested in Afghanis or the country.

Oct 6.

A few funny stories from the daily life in Cepari.

About the neighbor’s cow.

A family across the road whoa re also distant relatives of Jelu, invited us for dinner: for a grill. Theo prepared the meat and took it there and… disappeared.

Later he came and told the story.

THE son, Viorell was bringing the cow home in a hurry, feeding her apples on the way. He gave her 3 apples at once and she gulped them all and… chock don one. The apple stuck in the esophagus on the way to one of her stomach. So the was choking, and swelling from gases…. It was scary…. (by the way, the 6 months old calf started to cry).

Viorell hurried for veterinarian. Doctor came, and said: we have to hurry up because she is going to die soon. Rodica and Kuku (the neighbors) became panicky but the doctor, very calm and assured, directed, Rodika and Theo to hold cow still, Kuku should to close cow’s nose. At this point cow started gasping for air and Doctor with his strong hands, pulping on esophagus lead the apple up, and the cow eventually spit it out. I the moment her stomach shrank back to normal, and she spurred big stream of shit… spraying everyone around.

Theo was very exited by what he saw and participated in.

Later, everybody relieved, we had a fist with grilled meat, tcuika, doctor stayed of course, and turned to be a charming man. Of course, Theo told him a story about Jasper and chicken drum… he laughed.

The neighbor’s family is very, very sweet, kind, hospitable, generous people. Just a look at Rodica’s face makes you smile. They have two modern houses on their property: one for the parents and one for their son Viorel who is about to be married.

(We go there to take shower J )

The separate story should be told about making tcuika.

They have an equipment (100 years old !!!!). And I was a witness of the process. In the huge wooden barrel (a cubic meter or more) they fermented prunes (plums). Just plums. Nothing else. In about a month they are fermented, looks like a pulp with a crust. So they are ready to be distilled.

What is a distiller?

A stove with the big round copper pot (chan) protruding inside of the stove. The cover of this chan is a high pot-like (up-side-down) thing with the tube soldered on the side. Tube goes into another huge barrel inside of which is a cylinder with the tube in the bottom. Barrel is filled with water.

THE rest is clear: Kuku puts fermented pulp into the chan (about two buckets – 25 liters size), covers with the pot-like lid, hermetize it with mamlyga or soaked bread, and starts the fire in the stove. Vapors go to the cover, and through the tube to the cylinder where they cooled down and liquid is filtered through the cheese cloth to the bucket. THE first vapor (I tried it) is about 80 degree clear alcohol. The further distilled is not so strong… So, Kuku just goes by taste knowing when to stop.

THE result product is superb. I have to trust Theo, he is tcuika lover, but I tried myself tcuika many times (he or his friends brought from Romania,), and I can tell that this 100 years old primitive distiller does a greater job than all other “zmeeviki” in Russian, assembled out of chemical equipment stolen from the chemical labs in times when vodka was a bottle a month by coupon. I remember that that one product should be distilled a few times to get a clean product, or the first distill should be cleaned with potassium permanganate…

Any way, I was pretty impressed by all this.