It's this weekend. I can't wait to see what it is like - a tad low-key I expect.
We get to walk to this festival (and make sure that, today, we get anything we might feel the need for over the weekend because the main road through the village will be blocked making it more hassle than it's worth for us to get a car out). We had a frost the night before last and a beautifully sunny day yesterday which perhaps bodes well for at least dry weather, if not all that warm.
In preparation for the cabbage festival and because I think it's just such a hilariously amazing thing to celebrate, I have borrowed one of Robert Burns' most famous poems and amended it slightly. I hope you enjoy...
Address to a Cabbage
With sincere and abject apologies to the great Robert Burns.
Look at your round and cheeky face,
Great champion of the cabbage race!
Above them all you take your place,
Red, Savoy and Sprout:
You’re well worth a Grace
As long as I can spout,
The groaning bowl there you fill.
Your quarters like the distant hills.
Your heart would help to mend a mill
In time of need;
While through your leaves the whiff distills
Like waxy bleed.
Look at the peasant wipe his knife,
And cut you up to help his wife,
Boiling your whole to guard his life,
Like any would wish;
And then, oh what a terrible strife,
Steamy, reeking dish!
Then ladle for ladle, the reach and bicker,
Woe betide the slowest, you’ve got to be quicker,
Till all their swollen tummies bemoan,
Then Father, head of the table, like to burst,
“The flatus!” groans.
Are there any that over their Irish stew,
Or hotpot that would line a flue,
Or goulash that would make them spew
In perfect horror;
Spurn with pretentious derision
Such a platter?
Poor souls! See them over their schmuck
As helpless as newborn sprogs,
Their skinny legs in pathetic clogs,
Their arms like sticks;
In fields and hills to labour and slog?
Oh helpless chicks.
But look at the peasant, cabbage-fed,
The trembling earth resounds his tread,
Shove in his mighty fist a blade,
He’ll make it whistle;
And weeds, and crops, and logs will dread
Like the tiniest bristle.
You powers who make mankind your care,
And dish them out their bill of fare,
Romania wants no fancy stuff,
That pertly sits on porcelain ware,
But if you wish Her grateful prayer,
Give Her a cabbage!
We went to the Transilvanian Book Festival in Richis a few weekends ago which was a huge disappointment. I turns out that it's a week long series of talks and lectures (from authors of books which are duly on sale) in a variety of venues aimed almost entirely at UK and other English speaking overseas visitors for a princely £780 not including flights.
"They're gone for today. To Mediaş. Do you want to buy entrance to tomorrow's events?"
"How much would that cost me?"
"One hundred euros."
"How much?"
"It includes lunch either outside in the garden weather permitting. And talks from a couple of authors.There's a leaflet indoors, you could buy one."
"Erm, I think I'll pass."
Frankly, I'm not ready to sit in a room being talked at for hours on end; that sounds all too familiar...
I got talking generally, when I was spending money on the books of the visiting authors, to the original woman I had spoken too, "Oh, you could teach our children English, we need somebody to come every afternoon; there is no provision for English at the local school. We have a charity for the children." Unsurprisingly money was not mentioned in that conversation and I hadn't the heart to tell her just how expensive I am! So I just told her, no!
Prices and boredom and general exploitation notwithstanding we still managed to have a lovely day. There is a lovely wee gift shop with lots of local handmade stuff - honeys, soaps, wood products and some fantastic felting involving a Dutch woman who is involved with the locals to teach them how to do it and help them earn some money. Now, that I am interested in - I have her number...
Richis is a lovely village and we had a wee wander then drove on to Biertan which has one of the most famous fortified churches and is very well organised for bus trips and tourists. It was a beautiful day and the countryside gorgeous. The road to both was very twisty turny with several hairpin bends - great fun to drive.
We get to walk to this festival (and make sure that, today, we get anything we might feel the need for over the weekend because the main road through the village will be blocked making it more hassle than it's worth for us to get a car out). We had a frost the night before last and a beautifully sunny day yesterday which perhaps bodes well for at least dry weather, if not all that warm.
In preparation for the cabbage festival and because I think it's just such a hilariously amazing thing to celebrate, I have borrowed one of Robert Burns' most famous poems and amended it slightly. I hope you enjoy...
Address to a Cabbage
With sincere and abject apologies to the great Robert Burns.
Look at your round and cheeky face,
Great champion of the cabbage race!
Above them all you take your place,
Red, Savoy and Sprout:
You’re well worth a Grace
As long as I can spout,
The groaning bowl there you fill.
Your quarters like the distant hills.
Your heart would help to mend a mill
In time of need;
While through your leaves the whiff distills
Like waxy bleed.
Look at the peasant wipe his knife,
And cut you up to help his wife,
Boiling your whole to guard his life,
Like any would wish;
And then, oh what a terrible strife,
Steamy, reeking dish!
Then ladle for ladle, the reach and bicker,
Woe betide the slowest, you’ve got to be quicker,
Till all their swollen tummies bemoan,
Then Father, head of the table, like to burst,
“The flatus!” groans.
Are there any that over their Irish stew,
Or hotpot that would line a flue,
Or goulash that would make them spew
In perfect horror;
Spurn with pretentious derision
Such a platter?
Poor souls! See them over their schmuck
As helpless as newborn sprogs,
Their skinny legs in pathetic clogs,
Their arms like sticks;
In fields and hills to labour and slog?
Oh helpless chicks.
But look at the peasant, cabbage-fed,
The trembling earth resounds his tread,
Shove in his mighty fist a blade,
He’ll make it whistle;
And weeds, and crops, and logs will dread
Like the tiniest bristle.
You powers who make mankind your care,
And dish them out their bill of fare,
Romania wants no fancy stuff,
That pertly sits on porcelain ware,
But if you wish Her grateful prayer,
Give Her a cabbage!
We went to the Transilvanian Book Festival in Richis a few weekends ago which was a huge disappointment. I turns out that it's a week long series of talks and lectures (from authors of books which are duly on sale) in a variety of venues aimed almost entirely at UK and other English speaking overseas visitors for a princely £780 not including flights.
"They're gone for today. To Mediaş. Do you want to buy entrance to tomorrow's events?"
"How much would that cost me?"
"One hundred euros."
"How much?"
"It includes lunch either outside in the garden weather permitting. And talks from a couple of authors.There's a leaflet indoors, you could buy one."
"Erm, I think I'll pass."
Frankly, I'm not ready to sit in a room being talked at for hours on end; that sounds all too familiar...
I got talking generally, when I was spending money on the books of the visiting authors, to the original woman I had spoken too, "Oh, you could teach our children English, we need somebody to come every afternoon; there is no provision for English at the local school. We have a charity for the children." Unsurprisingly money was not mentioned in that conversation and I hadn't the heart to tell her just how expensive I am! So I just told her, no!
Prices and boredom and general exploitation notwithstanding we still managed to have a lovely day. There is a lovely wee gift shop with lots of local handmade stuff - honeys, soaps, wood products and some fantastic felting involving a Dutch woman who is involved with the locals to teach them how to do it and help them earn some money. Now, that I am interested in - I have her number...
Richis is a lovely village and we had a wee wander then drove on to Biertan which has one of the most famous fortified churches and is very well organised for bus trips and tourists. It was a beautiful day and the countryside gorgeous. The road to both was very twisty turny with several hairpin bends - great fun to drive.
I'll be back soon with photos and news of Moşna's big event...