24 Gennaio

The weather gods are smiling upon us today as it is unusually calm and the sky is crystal clear so that I can see the crisp white snow atop the Corsican mountains. I am happily sitting outside where it feels a bit less stark compared to the inside of our house which is missing most of its furniture after our first day of packing out yesterday. We’re not too bad off since the apartment was fully furnished before we arrived and most of the things were up in the attic storage space for us to bring down. But, we’re still waiting for our landlord to bring over a sofa. At the moment, we have a single chair and small wooden table in the living room, so it isn’t the coziest place. Hopefully, that will be rectified tomorrow morning.

Things here are racing to a close as we have now begun to pack up and have sadly already said goodbye to many of our friends. Tomorrow, there is a closure ceremony on the base, which will make things feel more official, though I think there are a grand total of about fifty people remaining to attend the celebration. I suppose, as more friends leave and life here becomes lonelier, we will be more eager and less melancholic about leaving ourselves.

Of course, we are trying to pack in as much travel as possible as well and have just returned from another weekend trip. Aside from Turkey, this was perhaps the most culturally different place to which we have traveled. We spent the weekend in the tiny village of Miklosvar in Transylvania, Romania at the guesthouses of the Count Kolnoky. Apparently, his family, royalty under the Austro-Hungarian Empire, was exiled during the Communist period and lost their property. Recently, the Count has returned to Transylvania to reclaim the family castle, hunting lodge and guesthouses and is slowly renovating each property.

Our journey to get there was a bit longer than we’d anticipated, starting with a very early flight to Rome, then another to Bucharest, and then a more than four-hour van ride to Miklosvar (not the simple 3-hour transfer advertised by our hotel). But, along the way, we were able to learn a bit about Romania from our driver, Josef, who met us at the airport clad in grey woolen pants and sweater and a well-worn fur cap. He taught us a few words in Hungarian, which we learned was the language spoken in Miklosvar, rather than Romanian. The only word that stuck was “Koszonom,” meaning thank you, and we used it prolifically. In the more central part of Romania near the airport, Romanian was spoken. Because it is a Latin-based language, we were able to recognize many of the words on the signs along the road. Hearing it, however, was an entirely different story. The scenery along the way included a strange mix of turn-of-the-century buildings with elaborate wooden carved adornments with desolate communist bloc high-rise apartment buildings – and the occasional horse-drawn cart pulling a load of wood down the road.

After our long journey, we arrived in Miklosvar, a tiny village made up of colorful square Saxon-style houses along a single main street punctuated by old hand-cranked wells that were still very much in use. The chilly air and low evening fog over the snow covered streets made for a bleak and eerie scene. However, shortly after we arrived, we were shown to our guesthouse just down the road from the main lodge and found it to be the perfect cozy respite. Inside, we found creaky wooden floors and heavy ceiling beams, a thick down comforter on our hand-carved bed and a traditional tiled Russian woodstove which provided wonderful radiant heat. The lodge was similarly appointed with traditionally carved and painted cabinets and multiple woodstoves and fireplaces. Our dinner that night was down in the wine cellar where we were served soup from a large steaming terrine followed by platters of veal, potatoes and red cabbage topped with a rich sour cream – all carried by women with arms that looked like they had kneaded a lot of bread. There is a sturdiness to everything here from the solid square houses to the thick-legged horses to the dark, stoutly built locals. I suppose the mode of living necessitates a certain amount of heartiness both in build and in character. Sadly, we were not able to communicate with any of the people we came across in town, so it was difficult to get a sense of their friendliness or lack thereof.

Because of the difficulties in communication, one of the services that the guesthouse offered was to provide guided tours – by English-speaking locals. Each night at dinner, we were presented with the next day’s options. We decided to spend our first day in Brasov, about a half-hour away, in order to see a few historical sites. Before heading to bed, however, we retired to what became known as the “Brandy Room” to taste the guesthouse’s caraway brandy fireside and peruse some of the information on the area. Apparently, along with potatoes, home-brewed brandy is considered a culinary staple in this region.

The next morning, after a snug night’s sleep and a curious breakfast including the more familiar muesli and yogurt along with a garlicky eggplant spread and plates of sausage, cheese, tomatoes and strangely-pale green peppers, we headed off on our tour. We stopped first at a fortressed church built by the Teutonic Knights in the 12th century. It was not just a fortressed church, but a refuge for the entire village when it came under attack. We learned that their major adversary was the Turks and that Romania was a major region of conflict between the Ottoman and the Austro-Hungarian empires. Inside the fortress walls were rows of apartments to house the villagers, places to store water and food supplies and a church in the center. The history here is complicated and involves many ethnic groups including Romanians, Saxons, Turks, Hungarians, Seklers and Gypsies. I read a brief history of the interactions between these groups in one of the guesthouse books, but it was too much to absorb and relay. From there, we went into the city of Brasov. To gain some perspective, we rode a cable car up Tampa Mountain and looked down at the walled city below, nestled in the valley of snow-covered hills. Our guide, George, pointed out Brasov’s main square where we were going to have lunch upon our descent. Again, it was cool and moist out, and we were happy to tuck inside for a hot lunch. After the usual soups and plates of meat and potatoes, the highlight of the meal was apple strudel with a brandy-soaked crust. Then, we were off to see the Black Church, so named because it was burned by the Austrians in 1689 and the smoke blackened the inner walls as well as a painting of the Madonna, the background of which was turned from blue to black. It was adorned with an impressive collection of Ottoman rugs as well – apparently the second largest collection in the world. We walked through town afterwards and window-shopped, converting the local currency, the Ron, into Euros to get a sense of local prices. Though Romania has been a member of the European Union for a year now, it has not yet adopted the Euro. The people with whom we have spoken have universally said that they think EU membership will bring good things to Romania, but that progress will be slow. Currently, the economy is fairly depressed with most people living very simply in a not-so-forgiving climate. Apparently, the government is corrupt and has not done much to improve general living conditions for its citizens, but that is already starting to change.

At the end of a long day of traveling and absorbing many new things, we returned to Miklosvar for a short rest before dinner. This also included a visit to the guesthouse sauna, which we found to be warmer than it was hot, but sufficient to get the blood flowing. We enjoyed more soup followed by Hungarian stuffed peppers and more potatoes for dinner before the post-dinner fireside brandy where we visited with a few of the other guests and anticipated the next day’s sleigh ride.

The next day, we met another guide, Michael, who took us to what really were one-horse open sleighs waiting for us just down the street. They pulled us through the rolling snowy hills, jingling all the way. The mist from the nearby river made everything quiet and mysterious such that, were it not for a slim line of skeletal trees, it would have been difficult to tell the difference between the hillside and the equally white sky. We stopped at a track going up the hill to have a walk through the woods and look for animal prints in the snow. We found fox, deer and dog prints as well as those of wild boar, the target of hunters at this time of year. Recently, the land in this area has been reclaimed by the older families by looking at the old Austro-Hungarian parcel maps and is now being used again for farming and grazing. When we returned to the village, we visited the Count’s old hunting lodge, now empty, but set to become a sort of cultural center for the village in the future. A bit chilly from the sleigh-ride, we returned to the guesthouse lodge and warmed our toes by the fire before consuming another hearty meal. In need of a good walk, I set off into the fields to explore. Along the way, I watched a woman draw water up from the well and a horse-drawn cart pass by with a load of wood, and thought how similar life is here now as it was a hundred years ago. It gives you a better sense of the youth of the United States and its culture to see a place with such a traditional way of life.

We sadly reached our final day in Romania and had to make our way back to the airport in Bucharest for an evening flight. We had time, however, to stop at the beautiful Peles Castle outside of Sinaia. We marveled at the ornate building and gardens outside, but that was as far as we got. The king was visiting and, apparently, did not want any visitors that day. Afterwards, we walked through the town of Sinaia, where we had a surprisingly difficult time acquiring souvenirs despite the fact that it was touted as a tourist village. And then, we were off for the long drive to Bucharest with George at the wheel driving our minibus like a racecar along the narrow, potholed streets.

And that brings us back to the present where we are looking forward to just a little over a month remaining here and then it’s back to Maine where we welcome small conveniences like a clothes dryer, central heating, and stores that don’t close for riposo, but will certainly miss the beauty of this place and all of the culture that we’ve been able to observe here and around Europe. Mostly, we look forward to seeing many of you soon and finally being able to tell our tales in person.

31 December 2007

It is the last day of 2007 and we are anticipating a feast at the base on La Maddalena this evening to welcome in the New Year. 2007 has been quite a year filled with many adventures and it is likely to remain a memorable one for many years to come. Sadly, we will not likely make it until midnight this year, as we are both recovering from a nasty bout of the flu which made the rounds amongst the group of friends we went skiing with over Christmas. So, we’ll all be in good early-to-bed company tonight. Maybe we’ll hear the fireworks in our Nyquil-induced dreams.
The ski trip, despite the spread of a nasty virus, was fantastic. We were somewhat primed for the wintry weather by a sudden turn of seasons in Sardegna in mid-December where the high over a period of a week or two was only 7C (44F). I know that sounds pretty wimpy, but it feels cold when all you have is one portable heater and the wind comes right through the windows such that you can see the leaves on your indoor plants blowing in the breeze. Up in the Dolomites, however, it was truly winter and glistening frozen ponds and snow-capped peaks welcomed us into the Tyrolean region. It is easy to forget that you are still in Italy, as streets are named things like Amberstrass and every town has two names – the old Austrian and a newer Italian name added after the war. The architecture of white stucco houses with heavy dark beams and overhanging roofs reminded us of Garmisch. We arrived at the Hotel Adler in the small village of Villabassa in the late afternoon after an overnight ferry ride and a long drive north and discovered that the Residence, the part of the hotel where we had booked a room, was a bit further away from the main hotel that we’d thought and we realized that the temperature outside would make it a chilly walk to and from breakfast and dinner each day, especially after skiing. So, Chad set off to inquire about a room in the main hotel and we were soon set up in the Junior Suite compliments of the proprietor, a friend of a friend who has a house in Sardegna and whom I had tutored in English at the beginning of the summer. They were quite posh accommodations – complete with two bathrooms! Little did we know that, later, this would provide a comfortable respite for a flu-addled Chad. That night, we met up with nearly a dozen friends from La Maddalena who had all just arrived, and had the first of many fantastic dinners at the hotel with many more courses than our stomachs had anticipated.

The next morning, we opted for an early start to get to the mountain and rent skis for the week. After the gathering of the troops over breakfast, followed by the rounding up of proper clothing and provisions for the day and the stuffing of children into new snowsuits, we set off to Kromplatz in a caravan of cars. And, sometime midmorning once we’d finally all gotten fully equipped, all the skiers rode the gondola up to the top of the mountain for the trip’s first run, leaving the sledders and snowboarders to the lower slopes for the day. The views were beautiful with natural snow on the peaks (though artificial on the slopes) and bright sunshine. We greatly enjoyed the sun over lunch on the outdoor porch of a mid-mountain restaurant where we ate all manner of sausages, spetzels and knodels. Then, we were off again, for a few more runs before calling it a day. This was the basic routine of our ski days, each of which brought increased speed and confidence for me after a tentative start and little previous skiing experience. I actually reached the point where my level of fun surpassed that of my fear.

Our ski day was then followed by returning to the Adler to take a very eager pup for a walk through the fields across from the hotel and then stopping by the nightly gluwein stand in the piazza for a mug of the local hot mulled wine by the fire. We realized how maladapted our poor pup was to the cold when we noticed him doing a little two legged dance on the icy ground as we waited for the carolers to start one evening. From there, we retreated indoors to the delightful Hotel spa to warm up and relax tired muscles. This left us just enough time to clean up before the multi-hour, multi-course dinner that ended each day and from which we all departed full and exhausted.

Aside from the skiing, we also had a chance to explore a couple of the towns in the area in the afternoons. Brunico, at the base of Kromplatz, had a wonderful Christmas market with booths full of various local crafts including gingerbread hearts, carved wooden ornaments, and colorful woolen capes and clogs. We even heard Tyrolean horn players performing on the longest horns I’ve ever seen. And, of course, we found steaming mugs of gluwein to keep us warm while perusing the market. Another afternoon, we headed into Cortina d’Ampezzo to see the famous glitzy resort town there. We had heard that people liked to show off their furs and high fashion there, and found this to be more than true – even the dogs had fur-trimmed jackets! We decided that Brunico was more our style.

The visit to Cortina was after a day of skiing there. The scenery was unbelievable. We thought that Kromplatz was beautiful, but at Cortina, the lifts take you through jagged channels in the rocks that are sparkling with fresh snow, up to nearly 3000 meters at the top. I couldn’t stop taking pictures. It was interesting to note the difference in style between the two mountains as Kromplatz was much more modern with fancy gondolas and big mountain restaurants, while Cortina had many of the old-style open chairlifts and little lodges. There were also many more Italians at Cortina than at Kromplatz, which was to our advantage since Italians like to sleep in the morning and we were there bright and early. Just after we finished lunch, they started rolling in. Not so at the Austrian-dominated Kromplatz, which was crowded by 9am.

After our day at Cortina, we returned to the Adler for Christmas Eve. Unfortunately, this was the night that Chad succumbed to the flu, but he did manage to emerge after dinner for caroling and gluwein around the hotel’s Christmas tree. Christmas Day, the group met up for one last day of skiing altogether (except for a still-feverish Chad). It was a beautiful, sunny morning with few skiers on the slopes, although we did see one in a full Santa suit! We headed back after lunch to have our Christmas gift exchange in the hotel’s cozy card room, followed by an outdoor fire with more hot gluwein in the piazza. Dinner was a grand feast complete with roast Christmas goose, a first for most of us.

And, that brought us, sadly, to the end of our stay at the Hotel Adler. We left the next morning to make our way toward the ferry. Midday, we stopped in Bologna, hoping to explore the famous Quadrilatero food district, but, as it was riposo and the day after Christmas, most of the shops were closed. It was great window-shopping ,though, which was easier as we had Manny in tow. The architecture in the city was beautiful with many brick buildings, a rarity for Italy, and narrow winding streets off the main piazzas. One of most unusual things we saw was the sarcophagus of St. Dominic, the namesake of the Dominican monks, which was perched high atop an elevated monument outside the Basilica. Then, it was onwards to the ferry and home to Sardinia, returning in the wee hours of the morning to our chilly, dark house.

We decided to have Christmas part II once back at home so that we could open each other’s presents there. We made a shellfish stew on “Christmas Eve” reminiscent of the Olcott tradition of haddock chowder and watched Charlie Brown’s Christmas Special in front of the fire. The next morning, we opened presents in our pajamas and had Norwegian apple cake a la Andrea and fresh squeezed OJ a la Tom. We lingered over the pile of loot for several hours thereafter, enjoying many new goodies and reliving Christmas Day now that we were at home. We did our best to recreate the traditions of our families, but still missed them quite a bit and spent the afternoon catching up with parents and siblings via phone. And sometime late in the day, I became the latest flu victim in the family - Merry Christmas!

And, that brings us back to the present, to celebrate the end of 2007 and the coming of 2008 (and with it, hopefully the return of health for both of us!). The arrival of January means that we will be saying goodbye to many of our friends here who are leaving before the closure of the base. So, we are hunkering down for the last couple of months and preparing to return to the land of English-speakers, baseball, and apple-pie come the end of February. Hopefully I’ll get in at least one more travelogue as we try to squeeze as much out of Sardinia as we can before we go. Meanwhile, happy 2008 to all.