I snapped a picture of the church and was surprised when a man approached me – the second person to do so today. The first didn’t speak English, but this one inquired as to whether I had taken a picture of him, and I averred that I hadn’t. I hadn’t knowingly done so anyway – the truth is he wasn’t my subject, but I really wasn’t paying that much attention. So I pulled up the photo and didn’t see him – until I realized he was unrecognizable behind a trash bin with some extremities peeking out.
He asked me to delete the photo because, he explained, they capture our souls. I, of course, erased the image out of respect for him, but the exchange left me with questions about this belief of his, and the Orthodox veneration of icons, and whether the two may somehow be linked. It doesn’t seem to be the case at home, but perhaps in some places and cultures it is.
Today was the second and final day I had allotted for myself in Bucharest. Most things I have read about Romania have stated two days in this city would be enough. As it turns out, however, when those two days are Monday and Tuesday, you might be out of luck.
The only museum open today was the geology museum, and while I considered a visit, it honestly wasn’t that enticing for me. Although geology would have had a sizable influence on Romanian history, a museum about it probably wouldn’t give much insight.
Instead I decided to visit some of the local churches, which is reasonable as an alternative when you consider that much of the best art from some eras was commissioned by the church.
None of the churches I visited was very old, which initially surprised me – in fact the oldest church in Bucharest seems to be St. Anthony’s, which is from the mid 1500’s – until I realized that the city of Bucharest was likely founded sometime in the 1400’s. The region has long been occupied, but not as a city and not with any density of population.
The churches I visited were humbling nonetheless. They weren’t the massive structures I’ve seen elsewhere – they were almost universally tiny. But they are oversized in gravity. They are small sacred spaces hidden away within their neighborhoods, where locals stop in to light a candle, say a prayer, and venerate an icon or two on their way to or from work.
This monastery, tucked in Old Town, might have been my favorite.
Inside, the frescoed walls were saturated with years of incense and the weight of centuries. The frescoes themselves are quite worn and almost unrecognizable, but this was of no matter. It was such an intimate place that my breath seemed to move the building around me. Visitors came and went, marking their presence only with the rustling of their garments.
A lone woman dressed in black sat on a stool near the door selling long, thin, beeswax candles. She said nothing at my entrance, but simply turned on the lights when I sat down for a few minutes to feel the space.
Here’s a QR code of a virtual tour they offer. You can navigate from the courtyard and go inside – its worthwhile (and notable that on the virtual tour you are unable to see the top of the dome).
Other churches I saw today were beautiful, but not in the same way. There were times in some when I would step in as a visitor, but then felt like I was intruding on something not meant for me and so would step out.
I couldn’t even visit St. Anthony’s – the line was too long.
And the the Patriarchal Cathedral was in the midst of liturgy, so I stepped out almost as soon as I had entered.
In the afternoon I went to the train station for my 2.5 hour ride to Brasov.
Romania still bears many signs of the austerity that mark aspects of its communist past, and the trains are one of those. The board at the station seems not to have been updated since at least 1989 (the revolution), and the trains themselves are remnants of another era.
I made it safely to Brasov, however, and checked into my hotel.
Out in the street the Transylvanian night wrapped its chilly arms around me so that I shivered. I looked up and saw the big sign above us shining down.
And I smiled a big grin through the cold. Because as tacky as it might have been, it was a reminder of where I am and how I got here.
Was this how I had intended to pass this day? Honestly no. Do I regret it? Not one bit. When my travels lead me to unexpected opportunities like a day in Orthodox Romania, thats when they get most interesting and thought provoking.
And today was definitely interesting.
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