Wooden churches of Maramures

Gregori's parents had to wake me up, I slept in till eight. They made some very hearthy breakfast, with bacon, eggs, polenta, then some warm milk and honey. I left completely stuffed. Still, I stopped at a wild cherry tree to top off the breakfast.

It was quite an uphill ride, with the pavement ending, but it went quite well and the hill wasn't too high. Then came the monestary of Razoare; as it was a steeep climb up a hill, I left my luggage at a house at the start of the road. Similar to the monestary I visited the previous night, it was a huge complex, with even more buildings under construction. Here a famous orthodox church with the name of Steinhard had worked for 20 years. They had a large library, with some of the books being from the 18th century. The librarian invited me for lunch - and I wasn't able to say no. They had some bean soup and then a very tasty champion goulash. I ate with some of the other stuff of the church, and a visiting university professor.

Even more stuffed, I reached the town of Targu Lupes, next to which was a Hungarian village called Domokos. I made a short detour to the town of Rogoz, where I saw the first wooden church of Maramures, which is also under Unesco protection. This one was closed, but it was worth making the detour.

From Targu Lupes, I headed north, with the road climbing mildly, but continously. It was a hot day and it was time to take a plunge in the river next to the road. There were some young children already playing there, they were surprised, but happy to play with me - the water was really refreshing.

Plopis was the next wooden church, it was close to 8 pm by the time I got there, but someone readily came with the key, after I called a number. It was really impressive inside, but even more impressive was the church tower. I made the somewhat stupid decision to climb up, wearing my cleats. It was a very steep wooden (what else in a wooden church?) ladder, going up some 40 steps, in an extremely steep incline. I expected the ladder to break any second or my shoes to slip, but somehow I survived to write about this experience.

Coming out of the church, I met two young girls who spoke good English and we chatted for a while, during our chat their dog was doing its best to eat me alive. Then came Surdesti, with yet another wooden church, but the holder to the key wasn't to be found.

It was yet again late by the time I got to rest, in the town of Cavnic, sleeping in a very nice B&B for 30 lei, having an entire house furnished in old Romanian style all for myself. The lady offered me some schnaps (palinka) and we chatted in Hungarian. As I mentioned, it really is a world language, isn't it?