TRAVEL. ROMANIA.
Where Once My Mom Learned to Walk
Traveling back in time with my feet in the present
Walking down the street I feel like I struggle this time to transfer back to the time when my mom used to live here. Where she once ran across the old gravel road at the age of four to visit her aunt are now trucks racing through at 70kph.
Yes, there’s a busy road leading through town and since my previous visit ten years ago the tar had been renewed but no protection for the inhabitants has been placed. No speed humps anywhere in town and I barely see a vehicle following the speed limit unless it’s a lost horse carriage between modern high-speed vehicles.
However, there is still a charming flair in town. Between the passing trucks or once you step off the main road. Maybe it’s just me seeing that charm due to my memories of connecting the village with stories told by my mom or grandparents.
My grandmother’s brother in fact still lives in town. He never liked it in Germany. He visits his daughter and now grandchildren once in a while but has left his wife in Germany.
It wasn’t for him. He chose to stay behind. This is his home and it’s where we wants to live.
He’s a topic for another day. But this man, at the age of 87 still drives his old bicycle on this road. I don’t want to know how many times trucks almost took him out. I guess he’s a fighter. And survivor.
My mom’s uncle also still holds a key to her birth home. The property is sold and so is the garden attached to it. But he somehow kept the connection to the new owner who does nothing with the place. Therefore my uncle still harvests fruits and grapes and had still planted vegetables in there up until a few years ago.
We’re walking down the road passing renovated homes and some buildings where nothing else but the ruined facade of the house is left.
Some flowers are blooming in the roadside ditch trying to lift the flair of this part of town where vehicles produce endless noise and dirt.
Just as we’re seeing the church from up close, it is time for us to cross the road and turn away from the busy road. Thankfully.
Now, I don’t hear the cars anymore but the calls of chicken, sheep and dogs are taking over. This is how I had this village in mind.
It must have sounded very familiar when my mom learned to walk the first steps. The clacking sound of hooves were the only noise made by vehicles but every home had a guard dog and a bunch of chickens running around.
Here it is. The house. From the outside it doesn’t look any different than it was in my mind. Maybe the color faded a bit more. But that’s about it.
The house is still standing. Barely but it stands.
As soon as my mom’s uncle opens the gate to the yard I can see what happened. Nature has taken over. The garden terrace has no longer a roof. It all fell apart. Grape wines are growing everywhere and a bed of falling leaves is covering the ground.
The old well stills stands and when I recall the stories of my grandfather correctly, this was one of the first ones in town. Or it was the one with the best water.
The well still works and has water in it but my mom’s uncle says it’s no longer drinkable.
The entrance to the main house is locked for us while I do think that’s a good thing since the rooms could easily collapse in the current state. Nobody has lived here for now over 30 years, what do you expect?
The “summer kitchen” as they called the room below the main house is open. You can still find an old couch and an oven in there.
We continued to the back of the house where livestock was held and hay got stored over the winter. In the barn I had taken many pictures on my previous visit but was more careful this time. Climbing the ladder up didn’t appear very safe anymore.
Through another door we now reached the huge garden. David, my husband, is impressed by the size of this property and doesn’t understand why anyone would sell something like that.
It’s not that it was my decision but since all of my mom’s siblings fled to Germany and nobody was having interest in an old house back in Romania, this was what they chose to do with it.
Below you can see the swimming pool. Yes, my mom grew up with a swimming pool in the yard. It’s where she dived in head first and where she learned how to swim.
Today, the only creatures moving in there are frogs.
We walk through the tall grass further up in the garden. My mom’s uncle apologized for not having mowed the grass. He did it up until 2 years ago but says it’s hard work.
And no, don’t think of mowing with a small truck. Here in this part of the world they still work with men force.
As you turn around in the garden you are offered one of the best views in town with the church and the castle lined up behind each other.
We couldn’t visit the castle since it was currently under construction as you can see. In fact, this isn’t renovating work being done but rather a rebuilding process.
When I visited the castle ten years ago, there were just some walls left. Ruined walls and half a tower. I loved the old and fallen look of it. I’m no fan of rebuilding old architectural masterpieces but then again, there’s no money to be earned with ruins.
And, those ruins will eventually disappear and with them the history of a place. By creating a “new” old castle, memories and ancient culture can be preserved for future generations.
It’s all a two-sided coin.
We leave the property and with it our memories of a glorious past behind.
One more stop is on our agenda. I do want to fly the drone above the church in this village. To capture the beauty of this town from above. Where no truck sounds and racing cars can be heard. A soft glide of the flying object creates a smooth motion on video.
We’re standing in the center of town but looking at the screen we gently fly above the red-tiled roofs of the old Transylvanian houses. We see the school my mom once learned to write the first letters and also spot the magistrate court where my parents got married.
The forest doesn’t have much color left in it but there are still some yellow trees standing in town. From the perspective above I can spot a tree that is split in half. One half still has all its yellow leaves, the other half is bare. Underneath the tree, you can see a circle of fallen, yellow leaves.
High behind the village, the castle is standing on top of the hill. The new towers they’ve built are standing out to me since they weren’t there before.
Those were the old times. Mixed with the new ones. This was our trip traveling back in time through memories shared by my mom’s uncle and my father. And of those stories my mom has shared with us previously.
It allowed us to see the place as fallen and abandoned as it is today but the stories also allowed us to see it as lively as it was one day. This door remained closed for us today but it was the door my mom took her first steps out of. It’s been a few years.
“History’s like a story in a way: it depends on who’s telling it.” — Dorothy Salisbury Davis
More about our trip to Romania:
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