...and beyond, I think.
I've been quiet this past weekend, as I've been taking a much-appreciated screen break up, and to the west, in the Romanian city of Sibiu. When I heard that a dear band was coming to a festival up there a few months ago, I jumped at the opportunity, having previously visited the city and enjoyed it by quite a bit. Although the city of Sibiu itself is wonderful, and warrants a full post dedicated to it, it's not what I'm going to be focusing on today. Rather, what got me most excited about this trip was a place called Dumbrava Sibiului, which is essentially a vast park inside the surrounding forest. It has in the past been an oasis of peace for me, at a time when I needed it badly, and it was with great pleasure that I returned this past weekend.
This time, also, with my Canon.
Romanian traditional folklore masks are truly a thing to behold. As in many cultures, the masks carry deep popular representations, standing in for mythological characters, or symbols of popular folklore figures. In the olden times, these masks could both be worn during rituals and dances, but also hung or propped up as an omen.
Rather than symbolize a folkloric figure here, the masks seem to be a stand-in for the villagers themselves, putting one in mind of one of the nature-related rituals and festivals that have so long been a part of our culture. There is something almost demonic to these masks, as is the case with many other cultures, which draws the imagination. It's as if, in their wildly exaggerated features, these masks allow the observer to acknowledge in some way those parts of their psyche that are often are kept dormant. A mystery to ourselves.
Of course, there was much more to the museum than that. Since this is an open-air museum replicating a small, rural Romanian village in the 1700-1800s, a lot of the aspects represented are almost common place. Banal, everyday things, such as watermills, carriages, hay bales, and of course, traditional houses.
I'm not a big fan of this sort of museum -- there's one here, in Bucharest, that I haven't been to in years -- but there's one thing that always draws me, and that's the colors.
There is something heartening about those bright walls, isn't there? About the closeness between your feet and the bare earth. Yes, this trip involved a fair bit of barefoot walking.
This light hung by a hay cart. There was a time when I wanted to get this (almost) exact lamp tattooed, though poor image quality eventually shifted my choice. It is, nevertheless, a recurring symbol, one I'm mindful of wherever I encounter it.
All in all, I'm quite thankful for many of our modern-day amenities. I realize, when I spend time in places like these, that although quaint and charming, I probably would not be very happy living in the 1800s...
...you know, milking the cows, or whatever.
And it's not that I'm oblivious to the joys of a simple life. Just that I'm very thankful, and much in tune with the world I presently inhabit to ever trade it.
It's interesting to note, also, what wealth means by different standards. For instance, the small wooden alcove/terrace on the side of the house -- that must've been quite a denominator of wealth once. Then again, it still is. In a sense. So many people still vie for a terraced house, or to live up above in the clouds, in some futuristic skyscraper.
I may not belong in the 1800s, but I'd still take a more to-the-ground terrace than a spooky-high skyscraper. Would you?
I guess the local craftsmen fair explains the propensity of these masks. I'm not sure if they were here last time. Luckily, we stumbled there right during this fair, which I thought was pretty neat. I didn't take many shots, as I'm not comfortable taking pictures of things I'm not gonna buy.
In a way, it's an interesting expertience, since artisanal products (at least here) are quite expensive. I try to remind myself I wouldn't bat an eye spending this money at the mall, or a library.
I did get these from a little boy selling his artwork. He was so sweet and quiet. When I asked how much the drawings were, he said it was $7 but negotiable. The honesty and genuineness floored me.
There was also a poetry, artistic corner as part of the music festival we were attending (also in this immense park). No poets there at the moment, though there were these wonderful wooden decorations.
Oh, and speaking of wooden decorations...
I came to seek light
Knew not where I went,
Now here I am, under a cross.
Duties I still would've had
And palinca to drink
All my life I toiled
I hayed, and danced
Now all I've to say,
I've left this world for the next.
And, of course, there was food. A lot of burgers and things, but also a lot of traditional foods. Funnily enough, I had a sort of mindful/aha moment eating here. The food was top-notch, and I had a moment of perfect stillness and peace where I thought, no matter what lies ahead, I should think back to this moment that was so very good.
It was simple, but also really powerful in a weird way.
At the end of the day, I don't know what life in the past would be like. I do know that, like the last time, this little incursion into the past did me the world of good.
