On our first day, we had finally left Braşov just after 11am and made it to Calimaneşti around 16pm, slightly late for a festival which we knew started at three. Sure enough, at the very centru of the very small town was a nice looking hotel with hundreds of people out front most of whom were in costume.

The first thing I noticed was a heavy police presence, which I am certainly not accustomed to. Cops seemed to be crawling over the place like ants on candy. I snapped a couple photos.

There were another couple dozen police milling about this small affair, some of whom were the communitara dressed in black commando outfits with large semi-automatic rifles. Although I found the number of police to be extraordinarily high, I should point out there was no menacing feeling in the air as a result of the authoritarian swarm. The police were casually observant and seemed to be enjoying themselves while guarding against pickpockets and the like.

A tip for travellers: Don’t kill yourself trying to show up exactly on time to Romanian events. I’m slowly building a pile of evidence that shows Romanian event organizers generally like to give long speeches before any activity takes place. Not only that, but they seem to be occassionally indebted to other society players and hence feel obligated to let those people give long speeches as well.

I felt bad for all the young adults and kids dressed up in their regional attire standing under the brutal oppression of a rather hot soare, while the various speakers prattled on endlessly. The contents of the speeches were good stuff: unity, diversity, tolerance, acceptance and the like. It’s just that each person seemed to repeat the same things as the last speaker and the kids stopped paying attention over an hour ago.

I had positioned myself on an elevated patio running lengthwise across the hotel. This seemed to give me both a better view from slightly above as well as some shady relief from the sun. Once the nearly two-hours of speeches were finished, the real event got underway with a hurried bang.

Onlookers in the audience rushed for better views and quickly piled up in front of my location. This blocked my view of the first dancing set and ruined most of my shots. Here is the best one left featuring the guys wearing the black lambs wool caciula (kah-CHOO-lah), which is my favorite of all the Romanian hats, and ladies wearing the camaşa increţita blouse. I believe they may have been from Argeş.

Realizing I’d end up with photographs if I didn’t move, I abruptly left my perch in mid-dance and took up a new position about 180-degrees from where I had been, as there was the tiniest of openings in the packed crowd of entralled onlookers. I stood directly between the proud elderly people who loudly applauded the preservation of culture and the immature teenagers giggling in disbelief at this non-MTV style of music and dancing.

From my new vantage point, I had a much better chance to freezeframe moments of this rural, traditional festival with its amazing variety of Romanian traditional clothing. I also had the wherewithall to realize I attracted a fair amount of my attention, being one of the two only tourists in the town and certainly the only with a huge lens strapped to my camera.

Now, the dancing was apparently part of a judged competition. At the top of the hotel stairs, the organizers, judges and local dignitaries stood looking directly down at the active dancing group to note each performance carefully. Hence, the dancers would move themselves directly in view of the judges.

This was a poor choice on the part of the organizers because it resulted in the dancers having their backs to the audience the overwhelming majority of the time. Depending on the style of dances, the audience would get to see maybe as much as 35% face time while other troupes never turned around at all, leaving us only their backsides. Pity the judges hadn’t made better arrangements.

The next group was from Harghita and had a lot of boot-slapping footwork for the men, while the women twirled their black and red striped dresses. I’m pretty sure they were comprised of mostly ethnic Hungarians. Possibly Szekely.

It was hard to keep track of where the various groups were from, but it appeared to be a judeţ-on-judeţ level competition. Here are more dancers in traditional outfits from largely ethnic Romanian counties. This next group may possibly be from the Sibiu area. In the first picture, the women spin and twirl as the men jump kick into the air, extending their right leg fully up to shoulder level and slap their boots. Impressive stuff.

This group is from the Olt judeţ (county/province). Their costumes made extensive use of beads, tassles and feathers. While they may not have been the most acrobatic, they were certainly among the most colorful bunch and had some rhythmic chants.

The next group had the shortest dancing set. Plus they never turned around even once, which meant poor photographic opportunities. I’m not exactly sure which judeţ they are from, but I am reasonably confident they originate from the Muntenia region.

Sadly, I am once again unsure of where this next group hails from. Their costumes look similar to ones seen in Buziaş of the northern Banat area, but they may very well be from Dolj in Oltenia as well. That’ll learn me to write things down, instead of assuming I’ll remember. Anywho, these folks had bright color costumes and a beautiful dance routine that I would have ranked 2nd best of the competition.

There was a great group of little kids. They looked very cute in their costumes and had a surprisingly good dance set, even if they didn’t get much face time with the crowd. I think they were probably not from too far away, given their age. Possibly Gorj, but I can’t be certain.

I’m not certain if the next group was from the Muntenia region, but I do know they easily had the best choreographed dance routine and high-spirited dance music of the entire festival. Everyone seemed faily captivated by their amazing performance as the violins, cellos, and accordians of live musicians blazed away in the late afternoon sun.

Then game some guests from Grecia, who came to demonstrate an example of traditional Greek dancing. The dance capitan was a very experienced artisan and the music was quite nice. I think the Romanian audience seemed to enjoy the show.

Throughout all the speeches and dancing festivities, there had been a palpable tension lingering in the air over the presence of Turks. It seems as though the Calimaneşti locals wondered who in the world would invite Turkish dancers to a Romanian festvial and why. Not to mention, wasn’t it curious these people din Turcia bothered to show?

Not quite hostile, but definitely tense and intently peculiar.

As their time to dance came closer, the Turks began to increasingly display an air of discipline, confidence, and pride. The looked and felt every part the experienced professional about to conquer the hearts of audience with their skill. The men came out first as the music worked into a mysterious oriental horn seemingly more eastern than manele.

An unfortunate technical glitch interrupted the Turkish music with painful feedback, but as the soundsystem was adjusted the Turkish drummer almost immediately stepped in to beat out the rhythm and the male dancers kept their composure without losing a step despite the annoyance.

When the girls came out, the music was working again and melodies turned a distinctly oriental flavor. The Turkish girls mesmorized the audience with a expressly sexy display as every little Romanian girl I could see was staring in wonder and mimicking each movement of their routine on the sidelines.

As the show went on, it seems the skeptical Romanians were being won over by the impressive skill of their Turkish guests.

Afterward, the local crowds gave one of the loudest displays of appreciation for the dancers from Turkey. They’d been accepted and respected by the gathered Romanians at Cantecele Oltului in Calimaneşti. And the Turks were happy to be well-received by their hosts.

And then came the brief announcement for the home team. The crowd became visibly and audibly excited to see the presentation of the homegrown dancers from Valcea, Oltenia, Romania. Flattered but not nervous, they came front and center to put on a very colorful and lively demonstration of local costume and folk dancing for the enthusiastic onlookers.

Hearty cheers rang out as their performance ended in a standing ovation. As soon as they exited off to the side, the organizers announced an interethnic, citywide, tourist-friendly hora. And indeed hundreds of folks linked arms as the live band played some really great muzica populare to motivate their feet. It seems the mayor was a bit preoccupied with inspecting the, er, “talent” of the girls…

After the large hora dancing, the festival was adjourned so dancers could rest up before the festivities continued a ways down the street at Casa Cultura, where vendors sold food and drink for the growing evening revelers. Not wanting to be left behind, we moseyed mai inainte pe strada la parcul cu the Cultural House…

Which is it: “Mother and Daughter” or “Separated at Birth,” sweetie?

Earlier I introduced my American friends to the talented hip-hop artists B.U.G Mafia which I believe it the most accessible, most marketable band in Romania (even if the record companies aren’t quite bright enough to capitalize on it). Indeed, the review I posted on this very blog has been seeing a lot of search engine traffic from folks living all over Europe who are looking to learn more about baiatii nostri.

And yet, they aren’t the best music group Romania has produced.

Nossir. I am here to tell y’all that greatest band from Romania is, without a doubt, Sarmalele Reci. Say it with me now, “Tsar maul a wretch.” Not bad. One more time: “tsar-maul-a wretch.” That’s it, you’ve got it! (Okay, technically, it sounds perfect when you make the “T” silent in the word tsar, but you no one’s gonna critize you for being 99% correct.)

Sarmale is a traditional Romanian dish. Basically, it’s rice, pork, and spice rolled into cabbage leaves and baked. We can haggle over recipe details another day.

Sarmalele is the articulated plural form of sarmale, yet they are pronounced the same way. Reci is the word for cold, when speaking about inanimate objects. The band’s name translates as “the cold sarmale (plural)” which, of course, no one would want since sarmalele should be hot. E deştept, nu? I bet you feel sorry for the poor castaways.

You realize it must have been quite a shock for the doctors in the delivery room when they saw the guys from Sarmalele Reci were born with instruments already in their hands. Like the bards of yore, they’re able to craft catchy songs borrowing from a multitude of genres and using a variety of musical tools. At one moment, they’re playing punk rock with acoustic mandolins. Maybe they’ve got you rocking to the beat of a politically charged anthem. The next time, they’re blowing horns in a hot sweat of pure funk laced with electronica. You might hear them softly crooning a wistful memory of the past glory of a former love. After that, they’ll probably move on to the blues with a successful solo of electric guitar licks. Or it could be an accordian whisking you through a pop song splashed out over traditional Romanian melodies. Then again, it just might be a twist of manele. Barbershop acapella, anyone?

The band has seen a few changes in the line-up since it first organized in 1993, welcoming in new musician talents and fresh perspective. At the core are the lead singer and guitarist, both of whom have been present on every release produced by Sarmalele Reci. Most of the songs diligently circumvent the hollow ring of most pop music choosing instead to focus on humorous interpersonal situations, biting social commentary, or lucent political observations. As always, the tight execution demonstrates the musicians clearly study the sounds and styles they’re tackling.

“Okay, enough is enough!” I know. You want to hear it for yourself, right?

Alright, cap’n. Here’s a handful of tunes (of varying bit rates) to start you on your journey.

Sarmalele Reci - Nu Ma Atinge - A classic song that’ll get your toes tapping.

Sarmalele Reci - Rapirea Din Serai - Frankly, I don’t know how popular this song is, but I do know it shows off their skill in delivering a unique sound you won’t hear anywhere else.

Sarmalele Reci - Telefonul Nu Mai Suna - Watch out or you’ll shed a tear over this one.

Sarmalele Reci - Gaşca De La Bloc - Bittersweet reflection on modern Romanian diaspora.

Honestly, it was really difficult to restrict myself to just a few choices when there are literally dozens of aural gems. Perhaps you’ll be intrigued enough to explore on your own. There’s quite a variety of sounds for you to discover. If I had to pigeonhole them, I would probably find some meta-correlations to acts like The Smiths and INXS.

Of course, you can’t really say you enjoy Sarmalele Reci until you’ve been at a party where a few notes from a single song can cause everyone present to stop what they’re doing and start singing together. Most everyone around is moving a bit to the beat or even outright dancing. Towards the end of the song, all pretense of civility is dropped as you and all your friends are completely carried away in the moment, gathering together (be it a hora circle or in a line-dance fashion) as the music slowly builds into a smashing crescendo driving your feet into a cossack frenzy!

Sarmalele Reci - Şpriţ de Vara - I dare you to crank it up and see if you can sit still. It’s a masterpiece.

One last tidbit. Sarmalele Reci is currently offering their latest song for free download. It’s a very fun, manelesque piece of political sarcasm running the gamut from Funar to Bin Laden.

I know the big question on your mind is: “Will the talented gentlemen grace us this summer to provide a live Sarmalele Reci performance during the finals of Mondial Bere?” Nu ştiu exact, dar vedem. Vedem.

I saw a piece of Iasi stencil art over at Red View. A collection of Bucureşti permanent marker graffiti at Andu’s. While Urban Delice pointed me in the direction of the guy who spraypainted Air Force One. [Update: An anonymous radical rightwing Republican realist wants us all to know that the tagging the President's plane was a hoax. Which makes sense, of course.]

I snapped this shot while a tourist in Cluj in May of 2004. I think it’s hysterical.

A couple weeks ago, I saw this great stencil in Braşov. Anyone want to take credit for it?

Of course, for every genius… there must be an equal and opposite idiot street vandal.

Stop spreading your filth in Poarta Schei, you ignorant loser.

Don’t let all the smiles of the erroneously designed DVD cover fool you.

The Death of Mr. Lazarescu is not your typical summer blockbuster. It will not dazzle you with special effects or sexy celebrities. It does not have a flag-waving ending where F-16s zoom overhead to the sounds of Rock You Like A Hurricane. No, this film attempts to represent the gritty details of the reality of life and death for Romanian pensioners as the world keeps right on moving.

Odds are it will touch you. You may feel saddened at the lack of diginity afforded to humans. You may be outraged by the arrogance and indifference. You will probably grapple with the conflict between how much suffering was the cause of tragedy outside his control or whether he brought some punishment upon himself. In any event, you will not be a passive observer of yet another mindless, boiler-plate Hollywood template. The brute strength of realism will keep you engrossed for the entire two hours and thirty four minutes.

I’ll attempt to avoid spoilers by summarizing the basic plot carefully. The movie is set in a rather typical apartment of Bucureşti where we find 63-year old Dante Remus Lazarescu feeling terribly (sometimes violently) ill and in need of relief. As he talks with his cats, interacts with relatives by telephone, and seeks help from his neighbors, we begin to understand some of the background of who he is.

Eventually, his condition steadily worsens and the setting changes to the inner workings of Romanian doctors and hospital staff. Throughout the film are references to pervasive alcohol problems among Romania’s elderly population, revealing details on the challenges faced by medical personnel in many modern cities, and an exposé on the attitude and pecking-order of Romanian doctors.

Director Cristi Puiu must have worked painstakingly hard to create this piece of art. The details are all a perfect slice of life whether it is inside the Ceauşescu-style communist apartments, during an ambulance ride through the streets of Bucureşti, witnessing the disturbingly accurate health care facilities, or in the progression of Mr. Lazarescu’s fate. The characters of Mr. Lazarescu and Mioara are particularly engaging. Dialogue is witty, sharp, and without fluff. Each line seems to have its purpose in bringing us closer to understanding the environment we witness.

All the actors and actresses deliver their parts with remarkable skill which is sure to boost their respective careers by making a strong impression on other film-makers. As a highlight, Ioan Fiscuteanu, Mihai Bratila, and Rodica Lazar turned in particularly stunning performances.

On camera work, it should be noted there seemed to be a distinct lack of stabilizers which shows up as some jitters here and there. Don’t worry, it’s nothing like disaster of Blair Witch. I think the Death of Mr. Lazarescu could have benefitted from some enhanced camera handling to eliminate these quirks. However, I’m sure there were tough budgetary constraints to work within.

The Death of Mr. Lazarescu, the second feature-length film from director Cristi Puiu, won both the top “Un Certain Regard Prize” at the 2005 Cannes Film Festival and the “Silver Hugo” award from the 2005 Chicago International Film Festival in addition to recently being nominated for Best Foreign Film at the upcoming 2006 Independent Spirit Awards.

Puiu described the film thusly;

“Mr. Lazarescu speaks about a world where love for our fellow man doesn’t exist, about someone whose need for help is ignored by all around him… Learning the truth about a situation, however banal, can take a lifetime. The story takes place over six hours, but it can’t be told in real time. The filmmaker has to choose those bits of reality to capture. Every time you cut, you turn the camera or your eye towards one situation, you turn your back on another.”

I describe it as required viewing for story lovers and fans of cinematic art. I describe it as clear justification for future, larger projects to be given to the director and several of the actors and actresses. I describe it as: death.