PressOne Quarterly #3

VOLUME 3

BEAUTIFUL DANUBE SEE THE DANUBE DELTA THROUGH THE LENS AND LIFE OF DANIEL PETRESCU

The Wonder THE AMAZING STORY OF ANA-MARIA BREZNICEANU

A Taste of the Homeland: Oradea PRESSONE FOUNDER VOICU BOJAN MAKES AN UNEXPECTED VISIT TO ORADEA

CHERISHING ROMANIA

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Welcome A Romanian reader described PressOne Quarterly in a touching email. She said, “You are building a cathedral of profound life stories.� All I am is a messenger. Usually the most remarkable people are found in the midst of challenge and adversity. Romania has millions of inspiring life stories. I am blessed to be in the presence of so many good people.

This magazine’s purpose is to share these stories and raise financial resources to build a media company that impacts thoughtful change in Romania. In just 19 months, PressOne.ro has reached over 3,000,000 readers. The more support we receive, the bigger our ambitions will become.

In this issue we chose to include an article and photo essay on Oradea. Oradea has an urgency and determination to invest in infrastructure, building restoration and quality of life. A great example of what can be done in every city.

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Photo: Dan Bodea

VOICU BOJAN

MIHNEA MĂRUȚĂ

Voicu Bojan is the publisher of PressOne and one of its three founders. He has over 10 years of experience in print publications, including Esquire, National Geographic Romania and LensWork, US.

Mihnea is the editor-in-chief of PressOne. He started working in the media in 1990, fascinated by the post-revolution political and social effervescence in Romania.

He has over 20 years of experience as a translator, editor and publisher of books.

Over the past 26 years, he has been part of several newsrooms in Cluj-Napoca and Bucharest, had the privilege to run two national newspapers, but still has butterflies in his stomach every time he signs a piece.

He is in love with words and photographs. As a journalist and travel writer, he tries to combine these two means of expression.

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Voicu is also in love with his wife, two boys, one dog and an obscure hut on a mountain top somewhere in Transylvania. Plus life in general, including off-road triathlons.

He graduated with a degree in Philosophy and is passionate about ideas and surprising connections, which he looks for in books, movies and sports.

Mihnea has three daughters and finds it hard to accept they are already teenagers, so he tries to keep his mind in the present and finds that balance that is so rare nowadays.

CONTENTS 07 / THE WONDER The amazing story of Ana-Maria Brezniceanu.

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15 / BEAUTIFUL DANUBE See the Danube Delta through the lens and life of Daniel Petrescu.

27 / THE FIRST 101 YEARS Experience 100 years of Romanian history through the life of a wonderfully simple man.

39 / THE CHEESEMAKER

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When the milk company stopped coming to the village, Borde Szilar went into the cheese business to provide jobs for his neighbors.

47 / MEET THE COVACI’S Gusti Covaci shatters stereotypes as his family serves a Romanian community.

63 / BEARD BROTHERS How Cornell Hoza turned a crazy idea into a growing civic action movement.

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71 / ZERO WASTE

Ioana Man brought the concept of Think Global, Act Local to Aiud… and it worked.

75 / TASTE OF HOMELAND – ORADEA PressOne Founder Voicu Bojan makes an unexpected visit to Oradea.

89 / PHOTO ESSAY – ORADEA

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A look at what Romania looks like when local government is committed to improving the quality of life for it’s citizens.

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The wonder A debilitating illness cannot keep Ana-Maria Brezniceanu from her dream of improving the education system IULIA MARIN

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The Wonder

Ana-Maria Brezniceanu was 24 when a curious foot pain sent her to the doctor. It took the physician just a few minutes to make the diagnosis. “You have rheumatoid arthritis. By 40 you’ll be in a wheelchair. And I am sorry, but children are out of the question.”

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Eighteen years have passed since that diagnosis.

Today, Ana-Maria is a mother, teacher and entrepreneur. In November 2015, she was recognized by the US Embassy as Entrepreneur of the Month for founding the Bucharest Montessori School which now enrolls 160 students.

Ana-Maria is a cheerful person with an overwhelming amount of energy. When she talks about children, her face lights up. Her story is a miracle.

OFF TO CANADA Ana-Maria was born and raised in Romania. In 1997, she graduated from the Foreign Languages Faculty in Bucharest. After University she was hired as an assistant professor in the RomanianAmerican University and taught in the Institute of Foreign Languages. She was married in July of

2000. In 2001, she earned a Masters in Canadian Studies at the Bucharest University.

In April 2002, she moved to Canada. Ana-Maria says:

“I did not want to leave Romania, but my husband insisted. He thought it would be a good learning experience. In a sense, he was right.

I landed a pretty good job. It’s hard, because no matter what you did in Romania – you had to start at the bottom.

I was basically a data entry clerk keeping track of teacher attendance at 36 different schools. Since my Romanian degrees did not matter much, I decided to enroll in a PhD program.

I chose to focus my PhD on education, rather than language studies. I realized that I loved to teach, no matter what the subject. I am able to drop down to a child’s level as easy as I can put myself in an adult’s shoes.”

Her days were very long and the data entry work was painful for her arthritic fingers. She would leave her job at 1:00 PM completely exhausted and nap at the university library. Once her PhD courses began at 5:30 PM her exhaustion was replaced with enthusiasm for her coursework and discussions.

At 8:30 PM she would float home with renewed energy.

She reminisces about a favorite moment in her PhD work when she first learned about alternative education.

Soon, Ana-Maria gave birth to a daughter, Teodora.

But life got complicated. Divorce and the harsh Canadian winters took their toll on Ana-Maria’s health. After three years in Canada, she returned to Romania, where she could lean on the support of family and friends.

A NEW VISION

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The PhD research Ana-Maria started in Canada opened her mind to all sorts of new ideas in education. In particular, she was fascinated with the “whole child” education approach pioneered by the Italian physician and educator, Maria Montessori.

Photos: Lucian Muntean

“I first came across alternative education when I was observing a class led by a Montessori teacher. I instantly fell in love with the method. There were 5 year old children in the class who were working with polyhedrals and proudly using the word ‘parallelepiped’.

Two girls were working on a puzzle map of Europe and putting Poland, Denmark, and Germany in their proper places. These children had a better visual map of Europe than I did! I thought, “When I have my own children, I’ll bring them to this teacher”.

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In 2006, Ana-Maria created a vision for a whole new approach to education in Romania. She labeled it as “Education for Life”. It began with a kindergarten that later expanded to include a grade school and high school. It included a farm, which is a fantastic way to teach math, science and responsibility to children of all ages. And finally, it included a teacher training center.

In 2007, she created the Montessori Association and borrowed the money to open a kindergarten in September. The first step of her vision had become a reality.

THE OTHER NEW REALITY Shortly before opening the Kindergarten, AnaMaria traveled to San Francisco for a Montessori conference. Her left knee was swollen to twice its normal size. While her rheumatoid arthritis (RA) always caused pain, this pain was much more severe.

“One month after the kindergarten opened, I was in so much pain that I could not walk.

By November, I could not even get out of bed. My weight declined to 74 pounds. My parents moved to Bucharest to care for me and my Teodora. Everyday, my mother would wash me and my father would put me in a wheelchair to take me to the school. I would visit parents in my office and share the Montessori principles. After school, I returned to my bed.

When Teodora got home from school, she would take her dolls – she really liked Barbie dolls – and we would play in bed.

I couldn’t turn around from one side to another by myself. I laid on my back while she played on my tummy.

The Wonder

I had so many friends and family members supporting me and encouraging me to not give up on the school. But I felt so weak and helpless. I’m from a family of teachers who had no belief in God. I didn’t believe in God either. But when you are completely helpless, you look for help beyond yourself.

I began to read Agios Nektarios’s prayers and asked Jesus for healing.

for RA and asked if I wanted to be one of the ten recipients. Of course I said yes, and by January of 2009 I was experiencing less pain. As I continued the IV therapy, the pain slowly disappeared. I was able to give 100% to the school. In 2010, we repaid all the debt from opening the kindergarten and in 2011 we expanded to open the grade school.

In August 2008 I attended a maslu (healing ceremony with oils) at the Radu Vodă monastery.

That evening I experienced horrible shaking in bed for three hours. I was covered with six blankets, but it was not enough to stop the tremors.

In October 2012, Ana-Maria was receiving her regular IV therapy when she met another RA patient taking the same medicine. But after a year of IV therapy, this woman was still in horrible pain.

It made Ana-Maria wonder if she had been healed by the medicine or by God.

In the midst of this, though, I saw an image of myself dressed in white clothing and walking without pain. I took it as a sign that God was going to heal me.

I promised God that as soon as I could walk I would visit Saint Nektarios’ Monastery on Aegina Island.

One month later, my doctor called to say the Ministry of Health had a new IV therapy medicine

ONE IN MILLION

A month later, she noticed a poster at church about a pilgrimage to Saint Nektarios’ Monastery. AnaMaria remembered her forgotten promise that she had made to God four years earlier. In March 2013, while attending a RA conference in Spain, she heard a French doctor say that there was only a one in a million chance of RA patients becoming pain-free without medicine. In her spirit, she felt certain that God had healed her pain, not the medicine.

Photos: Lucian Muntean 11

The Wonder In April 2013, she told her physician that she was stopping the IV therapy. Her physician, (whom she describes as one of the most extraordinary people she has ever met) was not pleased but supported Ana-Maria’s decision. The doctor’s only condition was that if the pain returned, that Ana-Maria would go back on the medicine. Ana-Maria agreed and left for her long-overdue visit to Aegina Island and Saint Nektarios’ Monastery.

“There are no words to describe the experience on Aegina. It was too beautiful for words. The best word that I have is ‘gratitude’. Not just for my healing, but also for the little blessings that exist every day that I had taken for granted. I think every person, if they wanted to, could lie in their bed at night and find at least one little, unexpected blessing in the day to be grateful for.”

BACK TO THE SCHOOL Ana-Maria remains medicine-free and pain-free.

Her schools continue to grow, with 160 students enrolled and 70 families on the waiting list.

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The classrooms look like spacious living rooms.

Each subject has its own library with materials specific to the Montessori method: pizzas with colored slices that can be disassembled and used to demonstrate the principles of fractions, colored letters, puzzle maps, books, and students’ projects proudly displayed on the walls.

“We teach them to describe things in their own words, not to copy from a book. We teach them what plagiarism is from a young age,” she says, half joking.

Walking out of the school, we gathered around a quote by Maria Montessori written on the wall. We read it together:

“Welcome every child as if you believed, in the depths of your heart, that she is the one who can save the whole world.”

THE FUTURE As we wrap up, Ana-Maria brings us back to her favorite subject – education.

“My dream is to build a teacher training center. Being a teacher is one of the most important occupations in the world. It is also one of the most difficult, because each child learns differently. There are so many ways to learn multiplication. What works for Mary, might not work for Tom. Good teaching ignites a passion for exploration and paves the way for lifelong learning. Good teaching is individualized and requires lots of training in classroom management. Good teaching means managing parent relationships. We need to help our teachers succeed.

There is another issue, a more sensitive issue. The social, emotional and moral development of children is only possible with teachers who have maturity in those three points of view. Communism left a unique legacy of emotional wounds on all of us. Each teacher inherited life experiences that influenced their own attitude towards children’s emotions (anger, sadness) and difficult life situations children have at home (divorce, neglect, aggression, spoiling etc.). Even with the most fascinating lessons, a teacher cannot reach a child if the former, or the latter, has an important emotional wound.

Teaching is a such noble vocation, and my greatest ambition is to encourage, support and develop teachers. Our future is in their hands.”

Maria Montessori is the founder of the Montessori method of education 13

Beautiful Danube ROXANA GARAIMAN

The Danube Delta through the lens and life of Daniel Petrescu

Daniel Petrescu, in the place he calls home – the Danube Delta

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“I am from Letea, a small village lost in the middle of the Danube Delta. To grow up in this place is an incredible opportunity.

Few places in Romania can offer a more beautiful childhood than in the Delta.”

“I had the luck of being born at what seemed to be the edge of the earth, in a family of nature lovers.

This is a pretty rare thing.

My parents never insisted that I become a great intellectual. They gave me the freedom to pursue whatever I enjoyed.

I took advantage of my freedom to explore all of my surroundings. During the

winter, on skates and sleds through the canals and frozen lakes. In the summer, on the fishing boat or on my dad’s Tummler motor boat.”

“During the winter, when the Siberian cold settled over the waters and the village was completely isolated, I’d walk through

the reeds on the outskirts of the village. In absolute silence, the crunch of the ice would give me chills.

We made houses out of the reeds. The unexpected sound of cracking ice would remind us that the Danube flowed under our feet.”

Photos: Daniel Petrescu 17

“The strongest memories I have of the Danube Delta are the chorus of frogs and the smell of blossoms in the spring. I wish I could photograph it, but you have to be there to experience it.�

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“Summer was the season of swimming with friends.

Some days I would stay in the water for eight hours. I got so tanned that my relatives in Arad didn’t recognize me when I came to visit my grandparents.”

Photos: Daniel Petrescu

A hooded crow has secured its dinner by stealing from another bird’s nest.

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“Autumn belongs to the birds on Furtuna Lake. There were thousands of pelicans and ducks and hundreds of coots and egrets all in one place.White-tailed eagles would prey on huge groups of coots.I remember the sound of thunder as the coots beat their wings on the water in a hasty retreat.�

Immediately after the Revolution, Daniel’s father and an associate created a company to bring tourists to the Delta.

The company didn’t work out, so in 1995 Daniel Petrescu and his friend Ștefan Vădineanu went into the business. They focused on tours catered towards foreigners.

“I had started my career as a tour guide in 1991 and I already had some connections in the birdwatcher’s network. More importantly, my father was well known in England, and this was the starting point for my business.

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At the beginning, I survived by guiding just a few groups.

Things picked when we built our first floating hotel in 1996. We opened up a new way for people to peacefully co-exist with the wildlife.”

Our tours are based on slow tourism. We listen, we observe and we enjoy the moments of silence in which the birds and animals allow themselves to be discovered. We try to reconcile the tourist to nature.”

Two sanderlings look for food under an ice shield

Beautiful Danube With the help of some of his friends in Switzerland, he acquired a digital camera.

“I dreamed about being a photographer, but I didn’t think I’d become successful. Things changed when the digital era took the old technology off its throne. I was among the first who adopted the digital camera.

This was good luck for me.”

Daniel offers tourists two kinds of photography in the Danube Delta: static and boat safari.

“If tourists wish to photograph a specific species, which may be sensitive, we have remote hiding places built for this purpose. The photographer will wait for a few hours in the hideout, hoping to capture the species. However, most of the time, the photos are taken from the boat. Most of the bird species allow photographers to approach them at a safe distance.”

Photos: Daniel Petrescu 23

Beautiful Danube Since the tourists come for the beauty and the diversity of nature, Daniel Petrescu chooses the most isolated locations for them. Other than borrowing a boat or bowl of soup at someone’s home, interaction with locals remains minimal.

“Most of our tourists are usually simple nature lovers, ready to explore whatever the Delta has to offer. But in some cases they are super passionate birdwatchers called “twitchers”. They make lists and insist on seeing specific birds on every excursion.

For those who are interested in the scientific study of birds, ornithology, Romania is one of the hotspots of Europe.”

For this reason, Daniel Petrescu’s boats are filled with tourists from every European nationality, as well as Australian, American, Japanese, Brazilian and Canadian tourists.

I asked Daniel if he had a favorite photograph.

“One summer, I decided to photograph pelicans on the lake’s edge. I went in the evening and put up my tent under a weeping willow.

My photo hide-out was just a few feet away from the tent. Not a single pelican appeared before sunset so I fell asleep. Around midnight, strange noises woke me. I got up to discover that I was surrounded by hundreds of pelicans fishing around my tent. Around 4:00 AM, I crawled to my hiding place.”

“Once I got to my hiding place, I set up my camera and waited for dawn. Since it was pitch dark, I couldn’t tell if the pelicans were still there. I took a long-exposure image to see in the dark and was awed at what I saw. Hundreds of pelicans asleep just a couple of meters in front of me. I sat motionless until sunrise, which offered me the chance to photograph these fantastic birds. Even though I have thousands of pelican photographs, two of the photographs taken that morning are my favorites.”

Daniel’s business, Ibus-Tours, is located in Tulcea.

In addition to bird-watching tours in the Danube Delta, Ibus-Tours also offers trips to the Carpathian Mountains to observe brown bears.

Daniel says that people are slowly coming to value the treasure of the Danube Delta.

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Some of my city friends have looked down on me because I lack the formal education of my peers and still live in the wild.

But at the end of the day, all the things that seemed to disadvantage me have turned into advantages. I get to raise my family in this place of breathtaking beauty and do my part to protect this natural treasure.”

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The First 101 Years VIOREL ILIŞOI

Experience 100 years of Romanian history through the life of a wonderfully simple man.

The Elizabeth Esplanade, nicknamed the “Yellow Ramp”, is a clay hill clothed in concrete for the sake of preventing landslides in the city center of Iași. This victory of man over nature has been the root of civic pride for more than 100 years.

Another 100 year victory of mankind lives nearby.

I quickly head down the Yellow Ramp on my way to meet a man who just turned 101 years old.

With butterflies in my stomach, I am about to meet a man two years older than Romania. He has lived through two world wars, dictatorships, monarchy and an infant democracy. His government decorated him for heroism, jailed him for nothing, beat him for honesty, and forced him into hard labor on the Danube Canal.

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His age stymies my pulse. Time flows through us like blood, without us feeling it pass, and no matter how much we try to master it with all sorts of measurements, it always slips through our fingers.

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The First 101 Years

The Yellow Ramp from a 1924 archive

With these thoughts in mind, I nervously ring the apartment doorbell. The dry click of the electric latch snaps me back to reality. While I climb the stairs, I wonder if the old man feels like a prisoner living in a building without an elevator.

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“That’s not at all the case!” replies Mr. Catalin Tomaziu, the old man’s nephew. “He climbs up and down the stairs on his own. He goes for a walk in the Copou neighborhood every day!”

attention,” says the old man. He quickly takes the lead and motions for me to take a seat with great assurance. “I was a man just like any other man. I just lived until now.”

His humility is genuine, making me feel more at ease. I continue to look at him, as if I were looking at someone from a world that disappeared long ago.

Our host, Mihaela, brings us coffee. I ask if Nicolae is her grandfather or great grandfather.

Nicolae Tomaziu welcomes me at the door of his room. He’s a tiny man, but he gives me an enthusiastic handshake that exudes unbelievable strength, as if it were coming from outside his body.

His smile is large and serene, beaming with youth.

His head barely reaches my chest. His white beard is shining in the light of the hallway, narrowed by the bookshelves on both sides.

“Since the President of our country decorated me when I turned 100, I’ve been given unwarranted Nicolae Tomaziu and his nephew’s wife, Mihaela Tomaziu

The First 101 Years “No, he’s not our grandfather. My husband is a distant cousin, a few times removed. We never knew that this fine gentleman even existed, until last year when he was decorated by the President on national television. I discovered that he was living as a hermit in the Caraiman Monastery.

We went to visit him and found him with such badly infected eyes that he couldn’t see at all. So we decided to bring him home with us. He wanted to come. He had an operation on his eyes, a corneal transplant, and now he sees well enough to read.

Now this is his home.

She looks at him with affection as she talks about him. The old man makes a gesture with his hand to indicate that he can’t hear us. His niece gets up and helps him put on his hearing aid. Then she strokes him on the head with warmth. This moment touches me deeply and I suddenly don’t know what to say.

Mr. Tomaziu saves me by shouting:

“I can barely hear anything anymore. I’ve had problems with hearing my entire life, but it has nothing to do with my old age. I became deaf after being beat over the years by the Securitate. My eyes were also ruined from the stone dust at the Canal.

After carrying stones at the Canal, I had an inguinal hernia. Now, a surgically mounted mesh holds my abdomen in place. Even the teeth you see aren’t my own. No one can tell me that I’m not a modern man!”

I quickly come to understand that for him, joking is a kind of forgiveness. It comes out of a deep strength to accept his own suffering without hating those who have provoked it.

Nicolae Tomaziu was born on February 28, 1916 in northern Moldova. He was the fourth child. His mother died of typhus two days after his birth.

World War I was raging just a few miles away in neighboring Transylvania. His father, the village priest, sent him to live with his grandfather (also a priest) in the village of Grămești.

His birth certificate, which was administered after Romania became a nation

Photos: Viorel Ilişoi 29

The grandparents: Aglaia and Nicolae Tomaziu

Master carpenter diploma from the Art and Trades School in Satu Mare

“My grandfather is the one on the wall there. I’ve been carrying his portrait my whole life. He raised me until I finished elementary school.”

Nicolae ended up in a boarding school in Noua Suliță, (which is now part of Ukraine) where he earned a “master carpenter diploma” from the Art and Trades School in Satu Mare.

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In 1938, he was drafted into the 4th Pioneer Regiment of Cernivtsi (Cernăuți). He becomes choked up when he recounts how his regiment had to withdraw as the Russian tanks came to occupy Bucovina in 1940.

It was a shameful retreat. We left on the run, with only our hand weapons.

Soldiers and civilians were tripping over each other in an effort to get away from the oncoming tanks.

Many people jumped off the Siret Bridge and swam to avoid becoming Russian citizens for the rest of their life.

I walked over the hills and all the way home to Dorohoi. I stayed there until an announcement in the newspaper asked for my Regiment to present itself

in Râmnicu Vâlcea, since it was connected to the Hunters Regiment 2.

It was a year of trouble for us. So you can imagine the amount of joy we experienced when we reclaimed Bucovina in 1941! That’s when our Regiment returned to Chernivtsi.

From there, the Bucovinian Pioneers went ahead of the Romanian Army, in pursuit of the Red Army.

They made their way to Nistru quickly, without any resistance from the Russians. But from then on, difficult times began.

Everyone told us that we should’ve stopped at Nistru, our real border between Romania and Ukraine, but this would’ve been a huge mistake from a strategic point of view. Our 4th Pioneers Battalion in Chernivtsi was placed in the Romanian Second Army and ordered to siege Odessa.

The Russians had left mines, bombs and human traps. We had to enter the city through a network of catacombs. We heard ticking-time bombs go off all day and night. There were 90,000 Romanian casualties in the Odessa siege.

The First 101 Years

This type of encounter with death either strengthens your faith or makes you lose your marbles. I’m the son, grandson and great-grandson of priests.

My faith helped me get through the madness of war, and through the hell of communist prisons to get to this beautiful age where the press suddenly finds an interest in me.

We turned the weapons around nicely, Romanianstyle. We chased the Germans all the way to the Tatra Mountains. There, they no longer opposed resistance, they were both numerically and logistically exhausted.

However, many of our own had fallen. I was on the front lines for seven years, until September 1945.

Even though I was decorated, I didn’t have a single wound on my body. God kept me safe.

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While the old man recounts the horrors of the Second World War, the clock on the hall sounds twice: ding! dang!

After silence falls upon the room full of books and old paintings, the old man resumes his story in 1944, when the Romanian army joined the Allies and declared war on Germany.

Photos: Viorel IliĹ&#x;oi

He and his battalion made it very close to Stalingrad. Once again, he felt the bitter taste of retreat at enemy lines. Hungry, cold and humiliated, the Romanian soldiers crawled their way through the snow and back to the Romanian border. He remembers how some of his weakened comrades tried to cling onto to the German motorbikes that came by. The Germans would smash their fingers off the bikes with their army boots or the butt of their weapons. It was an animal fight for survival.

This trivial noise, repeated hourly, takes on a more significant meaning in the presence of Mr. Tomaziu. When the clock chimes each hour, he stops speaking and withdraws for a moment, his forehead raised, as if he were paying his respects.

The First 101 Years Nicolae Tomaziu, at 30 years of age after returning from the front

His brother Gheorghe, five years his elder, was not so fortunate. Gheorghe was the only man who died during an American bombing of the Bucharest train station. Clemansa, their older sister, recovered the wallet Gheorghe always kept in his breast pocket.

A thin piece of shrapnel bore a tunnel through the wallet into his heart.

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After the war, Nicolae found a job in Bucharest in the Cotton Industry trade group. It was a heartbreaking time.

In 1947, when Romania was still a Monarchy, Nicolae Tomaziu was among the first antiCommunist protesters. He was staying with his sister Clemansa, who was a doctor in Curtea de Argeș, when a local Communist boss politely took him from his sister’s home.

At the Securitate (Secret Police) office in Pitești, he was shoved into a room “too small for a mouse.”

Then they beat the soles of his feet with a rubber cane, they beat his toes with their batons, and they crushed his testicles with a rod.

The police demanded the names of the fellow protesters. The old man tells me that he didn’t disclose any names, not because of his great courage, but because he didn’t know anyone from the protests. His only defense from the beatings was prayer.

Nicolae became one of the 1,000 hostages that Stalin held to force King Michaels’s abdication and complete the installation of a puppet Communist regime. After the King stepped down in December 1947, the Military Tribunal of Bucharest sentenced Nicolae to six years of hard labor for rebellion against social order.

This was the present that his homeland offered the veteran after having served the country for seven years, on two fronts, for a quarter of his young life.

Please don’t forget to write this. When I returned to Romania after the fighting in Stalingrad, I bent down and kissed the ground. I never could have imagined that Soviet Tanks would be shaking the foundations of my world. Everything was different.

PRISON Nicolae’s suffering took him to three prisons: Văcărești, Jilava, and Aiud. He refuses to speak about what happened there.

“There were enough books written about this! What else could I say with my poor words?”

His “poor words” painstakingly make their way out of his mouth, as if someone were ripping them out. He tries to speak but cannot. If the memory alone brings out this much pain after dozens of years, it is impossible to imagine how the physical pain manifested itself in such a frail body.

Tomaziu’s work record, a photocopy of his work bulletin

He weighed 139 pounds when he entered prison and left weighing a mere 86 pounds. As a result of the beatings and starvation, his metabolism was permanently disrupted. Nothing he ate seemed to cling to his bones. Now, he weighs 90 pounds.

After Aiud came torture in the famous Danube Canal hard labor camps, where tens of thousands of political prisoners worked on its excavation.

For years he carted stones around with a wheelbarrow. And since he couldn’t meet his quota, they cut his daily food rations and they beat him. When he became ill, they’d beat him some more and refused to give him medication.

His ticket to freedom from the penitentiary in 1954

Photos: Viorel Ilişoi

He may be the only remaining survivor of the Canal labor camps. The last of about 100,000 people who lost their youth, health, faith and lives there.

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Now I ask myself – is it possible that the man who endured all of that is really me? And how is it possible that I went through so much? I believe that it’s only with God’s presence that I’ve lived to recover the years I lost in the war and in prison.

After I was released from prison in January 1954, the State did not recognize my years of previous work, my studies and not even the time spent fighting for the reunification of the country on the Eastern front.

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The National Council of Veterans awarded him a veteran’s award for the anti-fascist war but not for the anti-Soviet war.

The First 101 Years

NEW LIFE After being released from the Canal, he returned to be with his sister, who was still a practicing doctor in Curtea de Argeș. With great difficulty, he found himself a job at the textile factory in Cisnădie where a former classmate worked.

Tomaziu carried bales of wet cotton, freshly removed from the buckets of dye.

The comrades believed that there would be perfect harmony between the 90 pounds that Tomaziu weighed and the 90 pound bags that he had to carry.

He didn’t stay there very long. It was another kind of Canal.

On a visit to his hometown in Moldova, he met Aurica Paraschiva. She was also an “enemy of the people”, the daughter of wealthy man, and a graduate from the School of Fine Arts in Iași. He was 41 and she was 36. They got married in 1957.

‘We didn’t have children, I already explained to you why.’

Once, someone stole the Party’s flag from the entrance of the factory. They took me in for questioning. Another time, the

I had the luck that the stoker took responsibility. Even though I was responsible for completing a check on it every hour, he had fallen asleep between two of the check-ups and that’s when the boiler exploded.

He was well behaved and never drew attention to himself. Like a little mouse who was permanently being watched by giant cats. Prison didn’t end the day he was released from the Canal.

He retired in 1976. Together with his wife, they build a cozy little home in Codlea. They had a large garden, half an acre. They worked in the garden, she would paint and he would read. They would go to the monastery to pray.

Aurica Paraschiva died in 2001, at 81 years of age. Alone in the world at age 85, Nicolae Tomaziu sold his house in Codlea for a quarter of the price it cost him to build it.

Under the usufruct clause, I was entitled to remain in the house for life. But after a while, the buyer, a young woman from Codlea who lived in Austria, brought her mother into the house. Slowly but surely, they pushed me out of the house I built with my own hands.

I moved into a rental unit just to get away from them.

For years, no one showed any interest in him. It felt like many people looked at him, but no one saw him. He still had strength in his bones but he often wondered what would happen if he became ill and bedridden.

In 2014, when he was 98 years old, he retreated to the Caraiman Monastery in Bușteni, run by his friend and spiritual father, Gheronție Puiu.

He donated everything that he had saved to the monastery.

He lived in a cell as if he were a tourist, paying his room and board. He read as much as he could with what was left of his vision and he wrote his memoir.

Only a thin ray of light penetrated through his heavily swollen eyelids. Two fists of flesh seemed to be growing of out his eyelids. He was awaiting death there, much like his father, whose candle burned out at 93 years of age in a residence for retired priests at the Viforâta Monastery.

He emerged from anonymity in 2016, when he turned 100. A magic number! The Association of Former Political Detainees organized a beautiful birthday party. All the guests loved Nicolae, who still had a youthful spirit and a sound mind.

President Iohannis decorated him with the National Order “Faithful Service” in the rank of Knight.

Photos: Viorel Ilişoi

He found work in the sewing factory in Codlea, near Brașov.

He had the lowest ranking position because he had been a political detainee. The Securitate never took their eyes off of him and the moment any strange incident occurred, he was the first to be questioned.

boiler from the central plant exploded. Since I was working in that department, they blamed me.

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The First 101 Years “That’s when I saw uncle on TV, and as I mentioned before, I brought him home. He will always live with us,” says his nephew Cătălin Tomaziu on the last of the three days that I had the joy of being in the company of Nicolae Tomaziu.

As I leave, it is hard to refrain from sweeping this vivacious man into my arms. We share a manly good-bye and promise to meet again when I return for a visit to Iași. He assures me that he, like the city of Iasi, will be here!

Cătălin heads off to work and leaves me alone with his uncle. This time, we talk for longer than usual.

He tells me about the books he enjoys reading. I give him one of my books about a forgotten writer from Iasi, Mihai Codreanu. With the impatience of a child on Christmas day, he opens the book and begins to skim over the pages with his magnifying glass. He reads to keep his mind healthy.

On the way to the train station a few hours later, my cellphone rings.

Nicolae lives in a picturesque neighborhood. Within a 200 meter radius, you can find the Museum of Literature, Nicolae Gane’s house, the home of the professor Petre Andrei who was killed by the legionaries when Nicolae Tomaziu was 25 years old, the home of the scientist Emil Racoviță and the school that Romanian scholar George Emil Palade had attended.

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“I take daily walks through town. It is full of positive energy,” says Nicolae.

“Hello, Mr. Journalist, are you still in Iași? Oh, great!

I’m the manager of the Museum of Literature. A man was just here to drop off your notebook. He said you left it on the table of his home. He did not know how to contact you, but knew you wrote a book about our museum.

“My God! I’ll ask the taxi driver to turn around and head directly to the museum. I’d be lost without that notebook. I have to call Mr. Cătălin Tomaziu to thank him.”

“No, his name isn’t Cătălin. He said something else, he was an elderly gentlemen, very elegant. Nicolae Tomaziu.”

Photos: Viorel IliĹ&#x;oi

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The Cheesemaker VALENTIN Č˜CHIOPU

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When the milk company stopped coming to the village, Berde Szilar went into the cheese business to provide jobs for his neighbors

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The park in front of Alunișu’s Reformed Church

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In 2010, when Berde Szilard opened up the cheese shop in Alunișu, he proved to be a real pastor of the village.

Reverend Berde Szilard (40) was born in St. Gheorghe and came to Alunișu in 2002 to serve in the Reformed Church that was built in 1273. When he arrived in the village he didn’t know much about cheese.

But that changed when Napolact, the large milk and dairy business, stopped buying milk from the village. Like most villages, the population of Alunișu declined as young people left to work outside of Romania. Napolact said Alunișu’s daily milk production did not justify the gasoline cost to drive there.

Berde could not find any other customers for the villagers’ milk, so he decided to go into the cheese business. He wanted to create a product that was similar to the famous Năsal Cașcaval, which is made in another region of Romania. But he also studied the production techniques of the famous Tomme de Savoie from the French Alps.

He wasn’t exactly sure what he was doing when he first made two blocks of cheese in the basement of the parish house. After a month, he tasted the aged prototype and was overwhelmed by the result – “My mouth was watering!”

Soon he had a business selling his cheese around the region. More important, the people of Alunișu had a means of financial sustenance and well-being.

Berde became the enzyme that curdled a small community to overcome a financial crisis.

The Cheesemaker

Maria stacking straw

LIFE IN ALUNIȘU The village of Alunișu is located 9 kilometers southwest of Huedin in Cluj County. There are about 100 residents of whom 60 are part of the Reformed Christian Church and 40 are Orthodox Christians.

There are four women in the village for every man. The ratio of women to men is reflected in the village’s nickname – Little Lady. Life in Alunișu consists of working in the fields, maintaining the home and tending to the little geraniums decorating the windowsills.

But if we work this land, we get real miracles. A tomato has the taste of a tomato, it’s heavenly. I bet you don’t know the real taste of a tomato because you come from the city.”

Iren was her parents’ only child and this kept her tied down to the house and the land. She would have liked to have attended university, but her parents needed her at home. She is proud of her niece for graduating from university at the top of her class. “Her parents never even gave her a 50 cent piece, but she always got first place in everything.”

Maria is 80 years old. During the dog-days of summer, we find her making straw piles in front of the Orthodox Church.

Photos: Raul Ștef

“I want to keep everything nice and tidy, for it to be clean and beautiful. It goes well with the Lord in this village.”

At age 72, Iren Peter is working in her garden, weeding in between rows of onions.

Iren Peter working in the garden

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“There was some rain and the weeds extended their roots so deep that you could only cut them with a kitchen knife.

Ileana in front of her house

Iren Peter got married in Alunișu, where she and her husband built their own home. Her two children have moved to Oradea. In the evening, she watches television with her husband to “discover the world and its problems.”

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She is grateful to live far away from these problems.

“What you see on TV seems to be a sad dream. I stay here, around the house, where there’s always peace and quiet.”

A few houses down, Ileana (65), hangs some clothes on the line. In the morning, she was in the fields where she discovered that wild boars had gotten into her potato patch and ruined it. She used to go to the hairdresser, collect hair and stick it on a pole in the middle of the potato field to scare away the boars. Unfortunately, this trick doesn’t work anymore.

“They would smell the hair and wouldn’t come any closer, but now they come right into the village.

Almost all of our hard work goes down the drain. We work hard but can’t reap the fruits of our labor in the fall. I’m miserable.”

THE FUTURE Alunișu is an enchanting place. Residents from Cluj and beyond are coming to Alunișu to purchase and restore some of the old homes. The carpenters and bricklayers have work all year round, hired by the newcomers who have fallen in love with this Transylvanian village.

Alinișu is even attracting tourists. It sits at the foot of the Vlădeasa Massif – a horseshoe shaped mountain peak in the Apuseni. The area has skiing in the winter and great summer trekking. A Dutch family has recently moved into the village.

The Cheesemaker

Berde in front of the church

Berde Szilard can’t see his life in any other place.

“There is so much spiritual wealth in rural living! There are few people, but they are hard-working and gifted homemakers”.

Berde has about 50 sheep and was able to obtain an official license as a cheese producer. He dedicates about half of his day to overseeing the process of transforming milk into great cheese. He continues to perfect the process and read up on everything he can find about producing cheese. Today, he is convinced that the foundation of a good cheese is the food you feed to the animals.

“I have met people who told me that they’ve eaten this cheese in France, this exact one. But this is pure Romanian.”

The villagers really appreciate Berde and his commitment to the traditions and values of the community.

It’s difficult to convince Berde Szilard to speak about his contribution to the villagers’ lives.

“My mission is not to be the subject of a newspaper article. There is nothing sensational going on here. We care for our homes, grow healthy food and care for each other.”

Compared to what we see on the television, Alunișu might be sensational after all.

Photos: Raul Ștef

His clients are from all over the country. A group of English people who set up an organization to support rural lifestyles in Romania help him deliver his cheese to people in Cluj.

He hopes some of the new settlers will restore the traditions of cattle grazing, the number of livestock has declined to just 20.

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“I have met people who told me that they’ve eaten this cheese in France, this exact one. But this is pure Romanian.”

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Covaci’s makeshift dwelling

Meet the Covaci’s REMUS ȚIPLEA TUDOR ȘTIRBU

Gusti Covaci shatters stereotypes as his family serves a Romanian community

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It’s early December and a cold wind blows through the meadows. Off in the distance, puffs of smoke blow out of the chimneys in the village of Tur, located just on the outskirts of Negrești-Oaș along the Ukrainian border in northwestern Romania.

A few children carrying bags of blankets run out of a nylon shack. They are the children of Gusti Covaci, a 42 year-old Roma cattle herder. They bring the bags over to a nearby truck. The family’s fortune – clothes, furniture, stove, ducks, chickens and pig – all have a designated spot in the truck.

The Covaci family is disassembling the temporary shelter they call home for eight months each year.

They’re going back to their home village of Sâncrai.

It’s the fifth year in a row they have made this pilgrimage.

I visited the family on the eve before they left their makeshift dwelling. Gusti, his wife Frăguța and seven children have lived in a tiny hut for the past eight months.

They give us a warm welcome, as if we were famous football stars. We tell them that we came to learn more about what they do, what causes them hardship, what brings them joy and sorrow, and ultimately, how they are looked upon by members of the Tur community.

“I’M A GYPSY WHO LIKES HUMANITY” In the shack, the gas lantern and the photographer’s panels cast a blinding light upon the seven children.

Two of them come closer, the others have gathered around Dani, the eldest of the eight children, while quietly watching a movie on YouTube.

“How long have you been coming to work in Tur?” I asked Gusti.

“For five years. I take care of the Romanians’ cows around here. And they’re pleased with my work, so they call me every year. You know how it is? I’m a gypsy who likes humanity. I’m not a thief. And that’s why the Romanians call me every year – they trust me.”

“How is the life of a cattle herder?”

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Gusti and Frăguța “It’s hard, very hard. But I like it. During the summer I set out at 5:30 AM and in the fall I start at 6:30 AM. I work when it’s cold, rainy, sunny or windy.

During the summer I take the calves out as soon as day breaks. I go to the edge of the village and pick them up from people’s homes. My responsibility starts there – I take care of the animals until I bring them back to the people in the evening. It’s hard, but I’m happy. I never went to school, didn’t attend a university. So as they say, where can I go? I’ve been shepherding cows since I was nine and now I’m an honest bread-winner for my family, for my kids. My family is with me and I’m at peace.”

Frăguța, Gusti’s wife, interrupts the discussion.

She’s no taller than a meter and a half. She has a dry sense of humor and is quick with her tongue.

“Let’s give these people something to drink,” Frăguța offers. A bottle of beer instantly appears out of nowhere. There is only one cup in the hut, so they offer us beer straight out of the bottle. Gusti says, “It’s not polite to make Romanians drink from the same cup as the gypsies.”

Meet the Covaci’s

THE FAMILY BUSINESS Gusti says “I got into cattle herding in order to earn money for me and my family. From what I earn, I have saved enough money to purchase a home in Sâncrai, buy bicycles for my children and a used Audi A6 from England.

Photos: Remus Țiplea

There are about 150 families in Tur that own a cow.

Gusti earns 150 RON per cow for the season, which adds up to an annual income of 22,500 RON. His older children do odd jobs to earn another 1500 RON each.

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Meet the Covaci’s

He has also earned something he cherishes more than money. He has earned trust from the Romanians in Tur.

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“He loves animals and takes care of them accordingly. We get along well with him. He understands the meaning of responsibility. He’s punctual. I don’t remember him ever being late, and he’s never caused us problems. There were other cattle herders in the area, but they weren’t serious like Gusti.” (Ioan Țiplea, nicknamed Nonu, owner of 11 bulls).

“Gusti is a good guy, anyone in Tur will say the same thing about him. He has a real passion for animals.

He loves them, and he takes care of them. He’s a serious guy and he helps people. Whenever he sees elderly people, he helps them. He behaves like a man with a good heart. He’s a fine man.” (Gheorghe Fane, owner of cattle)

Gusti eventually warms up to us and shares more of his thoughts.

“I get upset when people accuse me of being a thief, because I’m honest before humanity,” says Gusti. “The Romanians let me into their homes and trust me. And I taught my kids not to steal. If they need something, they know to ask for it rather than to steal it. That’s why I work, so they’ll want for nothing. If they were thieves, I wouldn’t have the courage to come back to Tur. I’m not one of those gypsies. I don’t need people like that in my home.”

I ask Gusti if has ever thought about leaving Romania.

“I’ve thought about leaving, but I truly don’t want to go. What would I do in Germany or in France? Steal or beg? I don’t want to leave my kids. I want to show them that they can have what they need by working hard, not by stealing.”

CARING FOR THE FAMILY

“THE KIDS ARE MY LIFE”

Since Gusti is the breadwinner, Frăguța, who’s barely weighs over 100 pounds, is the homemaker.

She takes care of the little garden near the hut and makes enough food to feed nine people on a daily basis.

In the nylon shack things are warming up. The lamps are getting dimmer and the cattle herder stands up. He dominates the room.

“It’s hard, very hard. Every day I have to make four gallons of food, either stew or soup” says Frăguța.

In the stew, she puts at least eight pounds of potatoes. If she makes pasta, she needs an entire bucket. On a good day, she’ll cook four whole chickens, or eight pounds of wings.

During one meal, the family devours eight loaves of bread. When she has no bread, she makes focaccia, which the children eat together with the soup or whatever else they find in the home or garden.

In the soft light, his dark, marble eyes and handlebar mustache summon images of fictional characters.

From the corner of the room where the children are gathered, some giggling escapes. They’ve just taken a selfie, and the older ones are sharing their opinions about how it came out.

Dani (19), the oldest of Gusti and Frăguța’s children, orchestrates the event. Next to him are Samir (18), Timi (15), Babi (13), Francesca (11), and Crinuța (6).

She makes polenta from at least four pounds of cornmeal. “It’s really hard, but with God’s grace, anything is possible,” says the little woman.

Photos: Remus Țiplea 53

The Covaci’s

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Dani, Samir and Timi help their father with the herd, but in the summer months they work odd jobs during the day. They’re up to date with what’s new in the world of smartphones and tablets as well as the trendiest hairstyles and clothes.

Dani and Samir got haircuts this past summer, and their hairstyles resembled those of the young men you see in city pubs and bars. However, none of this has helped them get through the weather this week. Their rubber

boots and hats are indispensable in the cold wind and squishy mud that makes its way into the shack.

Gusti tries to persuade his sons to become electricians, contractors or chefs and for his girls to become salespeople or seamstresses. I ask him why he doesn’t send his younger children to school.

“Well Mr. Journalist, we’re with the herd eight months of the year. That means

that they’d only get a few months in school and it’s not worth it. To send them to school in Sancrai and leave them there while I’m with the cattle, I don’t want that! I want them to stay by me. They’re my life.”

However, one of Gusti’s wishes is that Dani and Samir “learn to read just a little bit” so that they could eventually get a driver’s permit. In order to do this, Gusti says he’ll hire a Romanian to teach them.

Meet the Covaci’s

GUSTI’S DREAM The head of the family has always wanted to have a horse. He saw the horse in his dreams. He reminisces about the day the horse in his dreams passed by his herd. The red mare was big, strong and beautiful. It belonged to Peter in Tur. “If that mare were mine, I wouldn’t even need a roof over my head. Just thinking about it makes me want to cry,” Gusti begins the story.

“It makes us want to cry,” interrupts Frăguța.

And next thing I know, he pulls out his belt to whip me. So I raced to the door, but as I was exiting the door, he yelled after me, “Hey, Gusti, come back here!”

So I thought: “What does this guy want from me.

He tried to hit me and is now calling me by my first name?”

“Tell me how much you’re willing to pay for it,” he said.

“7,000 RON,” I replied.

Gusti continues the story.

“Listen, gypsy, even if you wrap that horse up in money, I won’t give it to you.”

So I went to the Romanian’s house and I said to him, “Hey man, will you give me that mare?”

Then he asked, “Do you drink Palinca?”

‘I’ll give it you” Peter said.

“How much do you want for it?”

“Hmm, how much should I ask you for it?”

“Yes, I drink” After two shots I said, “If that mare isn’t meant to be sold, it’s not meant to be sold. Take care good of it.”

And I left.

Photos: Remus Țiplea 57

GUSTI’S DREAM – ONE YEAR LATER The incident was on its way to being forgotten until one of the Gusti’s cows abandoned the herd as the cows were heading home at dusk.

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The owner of the cow accused Gusti of theft.

Gusti said to him, “Hey Romanian, you think I got into the herding business to win or lose? I didn’t sell it. If you don’t believe me, then I’ll go with you to the priest.”

A little bit of time passed and the owner called to tell Gusti that he found the cow grazing by the mill.

And since good news always comes in pairs, Gusti got more good news. When Peter, the owner of the red mare, heard that Gusti had spoken the truth about the lost cow, he sent Gusti word that he would sell the horse for 3,500 RON, half of what Gusti had offered.

Photos: Remus Èšiplea

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THE JOURNEY HOME Midnight is fast approaching. In the shack that is situated on the outskirts of Tur, the heat of the stove invites the nine souls to sleep. Tomorrow, bright and early, another year will be closing for the family of herders. It’s time for them to return to a real house, with walls made out of brick.

Four months later, in March for 2016, I visited the family in Sâncrai. The Covaci family lives in a modest home that is clean and tidy. On the roof of their home, an improvised antenna reigns on its throne.

The family has spent most of the winter resting and watching television.

Soon, their little transhumance movement will begin once again. They’ll have to put up the nylon shack on the edge of Tur for another season of herding.

“We’re heading back as soon as we get a hint of warm weather” Gusti shares with a big smile.

ABOUT THE PHOTOGRAPHER Remus Țiplea describes himself as the father of Vlad and a passionate photographer. This project, which he began in 2015, made him attach himself to the simplicity of the people living in the nylon shack.

You can find out more about Remus on remustiplea. blogspot.ro

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How Cornell Hoza turned a crazy idea into a growing civic action movement VALENTIN ȘCHIOPU

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It is always an unceremonious moment when a person steps off the pedestal of selfindulgence into a position of serving others.

But slowly, something new comes into existence and snowballs into an unexpected force. In that moment, everything changes.

Renouncing the pleasure of a perpetual self-directed gaze opens the heart to entirely new horizons.

THE BEGINNING

This is the story of Cornel Hoza, the 29 year old founder of Beard Brothers, an NGO based in Cluj. The club’s vision was inspired

by North American motorcycle clubs, which have traditionally passed along values such as loyalty and solidarity to young adults.

Seven people came to the first meeting. They looked at the map of Romania and found the village of ‘Bearded’ in nearby Mureș County. So they planned a visit to drop off clothing.

Like many foolish ideas, the Beard Brothers concept was conceived over a few pints in a pub.

The first call to action was a Facebook message in 2013 that read something like: “For all of those out there with a beard, let’s get together. And bring clothes that you no longer wear with you, we’ll find a use for them. Beard on! For those who need us!”

“The irony of the story is remarkable,” said Hoza. “We found a village of old people who were starving. They needed food, not clothes. So the Bearded Brotherhood emptied their pockets to buy them food.

That was the beginning.”

Hoza by the whiteboard

YOUNG CORNEL As a teenager Cornel was somewhere between a ‘wannabe’ and a ‘nobody’. He wasn’t good at mathematics or computers. He was not outgoing.

He wasn’t very good at anything that people valued. So he began volunteering at the Romanian Foundation for Children, Community and Family.

“I was considered a loser in my neighborhood. I just couldn’t understand why doing something helpful like volunteering was seen as a dumb activity by others. I just didn’t get it.”

“It was a conscious decision that a university diploma did not demonstrate my knowledge. I began my university career as a young boy with no vision.

Three years later, I decided to be honest with myself,” he recounts.

He decided to try graphic design. For eight months he spent more than twelve hours a day on the computer teaching himself. That was the easy part.

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He found a job in his first year at a slot machine bar that was open 24/7. He worked 24 hours and had 48 hours off.

After three years of juggling university studies, bartending and the normal clubbing scene, Cornel had an epiphany. He chose to not complete the dissertation necessary for his university degree.

Photos: Raul Ștef

He arrived in Cluj in 2009 to attend university and study economics. His decision hadn’t come out of profound reflection. He was simply trying to find a place in the world.

“The bar was named after a person, just like most neighborhood pubs. The name was Piti or Piști, I’m not entirely sure. I just wanted more independence and money.”

He knocked on many doors to secure a volunteer internship position. He became so desperate for experience that he even offered to pay the company’s water bill, so that company might profit from his internship. Still they refused him.

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“The greatest shock is when you volunteer and you are rejected. I couldn’t believe it! In Romania there are so many young people that just want to learn but cannot find people who are willing to teach them. This is just plain wrong. It’s fundamentally wrong.

When you’re in that type of situation, you either sink or swim. I made a promise to myself during those months. If I ever meet someone who simply wanted to learn, I would never say ‘no’. If you’re good at something, it’s important to pass that knowledge on to others,” continues Hoza.` Ultimately, he managed to get a job at an advertising agency, and then later he started his own business. Already 20 young people have completed internships in his company.

GROWTH The Beard Brothers growth has always begun with a need to touch the heart of a fellow human.

All of the projects have a common theme of trying to bridge the disparities between the ‘haves’ and ‘have-nots’ in society.

The image of a mother begging for blood at the Center for Transfusions in Cluj (to raise funds for her daughter’s operation) inspired the Beard Brothers to start fundraising to purchase new equipment which would increase the capacity of the Center’s intake of blood donors. The name of the campaign was “Keep the Blood Flowing.”

In another case they encountered Eduard, a 6 year old boy suffering from Ewing Sarcoma, an aggressive bone cancer. From April to June of 2014, they raised 3,354 of the 20,000 Euros needed for Eduard’s operation. He is now healthy.

They recently acquired a van for the Kindergarten for Children with Special Needs. The “Beardmobile” is a wheelchair accessible van that is driven by a member of the Brotherhood. It is also a moving billboard for the Beard Brothers.

“The Tutors” program is the Brotherhood’s first foray into education.

THE BROTHERHOOD The Beard Brothers is made up of all sorts of people, from bartenders to managers to human resource specialists to web designers. The youngest member is a 15-year-old boy with barely any peach fuzz.

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Nearly 400 people have participated in Beard Brother projects, but there are only 30 official members of the Brotherhood. The hierarchy is simple: volunteer, supporter, and member.

Membership into the Brotherhood is based on one’s level of involvement.

Photos: Beard Brothers

The Beard Brothers offer contractor services – all free of charge. They recently renovated the apartment of a retiree, Auntie Rozalia as they call her, in Campia Turzii. Now, they’re renovating the soup kitchen in Cluj where free meals are served once a week.

“We tutor children in a different way. We give them practical examples so that they can easily absorb the information. From piano to painting, we try to extend into as many areas as possible. In that way, these children won’t have the same problems I had when I finished high school, unsure of the options in life. ” says Cornel.

Beard Brothers

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In 2015, a female division, the Sisterhood, was formed

“It might take a year, three months, five years, I have no idea. Each one of us understands that change will come because our lives undoubtedly evolve. At some point, you might not have time, and then someone else will take your place.

to transform the whole story into something that seems cool. Because at the end of the day, helping others is cool. It’s great, you feel good when you see that you’re involved in something that transforms society around you.”

We have some reservations about growth because it’s easy to turn this kind of thing into a business, and we don’t want that to happen. We do everything in our free time, and there’s no personal gain in any of this. The only person who is paid for their work is our accountant. And we want to keep it that way,” says Hoza.

PERSONAL TRANSFORMATION

“A bearded brotherhood with a spirit of initiative, seeking to transform attitudes through their involvement in civil society while fighting against stereotypes and all forms of discrimination” – quote on the Beard Brothers’ business cards.

I think that self-confidence is really lacking in Romania. You know, at the end of a seminar, there is always a question-answer period. At this point, a hushed silence comes over the room. I’m convinced that people have many questions to ask but don’t have the courage to voice them.

You don’t need a beard to join the Brotherhood. For the Beard Brothers, their emphasis was never on growing beards. Their identity has more to do with creating the sentiment that volunteering is cool.

“At the beginning, we saw that we could reach people with this appearance. So I said “I think this is a way

“The journey from where we began to where we are now has been very long, but extremely rewarding.

The man I was three years ago has nothing to do with the man I am today.

I was that person not too long ago. I had a ton of questions to ask, but I was deathly afraid that if I said something incorrectly, people would laugh at me. Well, I’m over that, and I know that we have the power in us to change the world, especially if we join forces!

Beard Brothers

I know I’m an idealist, but I can’t think differently at this point. I’m surrounded by too many great people to give up and lose faith. But this doesn’t mean I don’t see the negative realities. It just means that we’ll keep on fighting as hard as we can,” says Cornel.

Cornel is a sunny person who gives the impression that he’s always chuckling to himself beneath his beard.

THE FUTURE It’s hard to unite a group of people. I look at our organization, and I wonder how we’re still standing strong together. I think it’s because we share a common vision to make a difference and to work

together to make the world a better place. There are all types of NGOs out there that are specialized in one particular issue. We’re not like that, we don’t have a specific focus.

People who have experience in a variety of business fields have approached me to tell me that I should come up a mission statement. But I don’t want to condition myself in such a way. I would respond to them all with the same answer – my purpose is to do some good and that’s about it.

Recently I was handing out sweets to some poor children in Ciurila. A tiny Roma boy caught my eye.

I stretched out my hand to offer him some cookies.

He looked at me and said: “I already got some, why don’t you give it to someone who didn’t get any yet”. Wow! These are the moments we live for.” says Cornel Hoza.

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Zero Waste VALENTIN ȘCHIOPU

Ioana Man brought the concept of Think Global, Act Local to Aiud… and it worked

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Zero Waste

Zero Waste: Diana Călin, Cosmin Georgiu, Ioana Man and Anda Goia

In 2016, Ioana Man attended a youth conference in Italy called Think Global, Act Local. She attended as a representative of the Romanian environmental NGO, Society for Responsible Consumption.

At the conference, Ioana became familiar with terms like sustainability, recycling and food waste.

As a third year psychology student studying in Cluj, Ioana returned home from Italy wondering how she might make sense of what she had learned and put this knowledge into action.

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Two weeks after the conference, she returned to her native city of Aiud and gathered a handful of people to discuss a simple idea. The question was simple: Could we feed poor families in the city with food products from the market vendors that were destined for the dump because they could not be sold?

“I knew that this kind of project could easily be organized, even in my city.

However, I was still a little reluctant to face the reactions of the market vendors.

I was expecting to find hostile people, but instead, many of them showed enthusiasm.

‘Finally, we’ve been waiting for you for God knows how long’, was more or less what people were saying,” shared Ioana.

Since September, this unique team has collected over 1,000 pounds of vegetables, which have reached the homes of more than 50 impoverished locals.

The project adopted the name Zero Waste and was registered in a competition organized by the European Commission called Refresh, an attempt to create and develop strategic programs alongside European governments that will ultimately reduce food waste.

Out of the 47 European projects that made it to the finals, the Zero Waste team from Aiud received the most votes on the Refresh website with over 17,000 in total. The team will be heading to Berlin in May of 2017 to present their project at the REFRESH Food Waste 2017 Conference.

The initiative of these young people has touched an entire community. The people of Aiud discovered this “movement” through brochures, pamphlets and stickers that were distributed around the city.

As a result, once or twice a week, the Zero Waste volunteers arrive to pick up their “impost” vegetables that wouldn’t last another day on the stand, but are still healthy and edible. Zero Waste also has a specially designated stand in the food market where vendors can leave the products they no longer need.

Additionally, there is a bakery that now provides bread to the families who receive produce from the volunteers.

Ioana Man’s team consists of her mother, Laura Man – a teacher, Raluca Popan – an illustrator, Diana Ioana Călin – a consultant in sustainable development and co-founder of the NGO Society for Responsible Consumption, Anda Goia- specialist manager, Casandra Ioan – teacher, Cosmin Georgiu – a recruitment specialist and Andreea Mihăilescu – a student in the eleventh grade.

Ioana says that Zero Waste is starting to bear fruit and even generate provisions for the winter months.

“We contact the people whom we believe need some support, and we ask them if we can drop off some of the produce we collect from the market.

We’ve helped certain families on a variety of occasions. Once, when we visited a particular family for the third time, the mother asked us if we wanted to try the roasted vegetable spread she had made out of the vegetables we had previously brought. She told us that the spread had turned out incredibly well.

It was an emotional moment that encouraged me to become even more courageous and ambitious. People want to help each other. Now we are starting to find food sources for the winter months.”

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Taste of Homeland Oradea VOICU BOJAN

Voicu Bojan travels to Oradea to see what’s changed in the past 20 years

PressOne Founder Voicu Bojan likes to take the road less traveled by. Showing up at the train station without a destination, he buys a ticket to the same location as the person in front of him in line. His plan is to not plan.

“You don’t choose, you let yourself be chosen. You don’t control the story, you allow it to unfold in whatever way it desires. You become an active witness of your own life, losing yourself in a place that you know nothing about, hoping this chaotic ride will give birth to a personal and unique story.”

DEPARTURE

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These words are written on the train: Do you want to travel like lightning? Choose TFC. Since this train has only one route – Cluj-Oradea – my destiny is as clear as the puddles between the railroad tracks.

Seated comfortably on the train – with my back in the direction we’re headed so I can study the passengers more closely – I wonder again what kind of crazy endeavor I’ve ventured out on.

I start to recollect my childhood memory of Oradea.

I remember walking down the pretty white path from Uncle Paul’s home to my favorite swimming hole on the shore of the Criș River. The deep pool, equipped with a diving platform and trampoline, was so satisfying; I wouldn’t eat all day long.

Uncle Paul, just a friend of my parents, became my hero during one magical summer when he not only caught a twopound carp, but he also hit a rooster with his Fiat 850 on the way home. The poor rooster was eaten the next day – a la Transylvanian – following the traditional recipe of chicken soup with matzo balls.

Uncle Paul was tall, tanned and adorned with a shiny, bald head that exuded dignity. He taught me how to cut melons with the help of a large knife. He gave me the foam from his beer and laughed hard when I choked on a sip of plum brandy. He was the perfect hero, because he didn’t seem to give a hoot for education.

The problem with childhood memories is that everything is turned upside down when you revisit those magical places and forgotten heroes.

From great and glorious, they become small and insignificant. My mind drifts back to the train ride.

Like the cuckoo birds that pop out of old grandfather clocks, the ruddy-faced train dispatchers pop out of their little warm nests and huddle in the dark grey train stations in Ciucea, Bratca, Șuncuiuș or Vadu Crișului.

Wanting to make good use of my time, I sent a message to everyone I know who might provide me with some information about Oradea. I receive one disappointing message after another: “I don’t have an ounce of inspiration”, “I’m at work”, “I don’t know anything special to tell you”, or “I’m in Suceava.”

A Taste of the Homeland: Oradea

ARRIVAL Like every peasant who arrives in the city, I start walking towards the City Center.

It’s drizzling, chilly and the wind is beginning to pick up. The large bridge over the Criș River – the one that runs right by Town Hall – is blocked due to construction. Not too far away, the newly renovated State Theatre and “The Beer Barrel” garden are closed. On the riverbank, a lone fisherman decked out in a yellow raincoat seems to be a statue of enduring patience.

Everything lacks promise until I cross over the river and arrive in Piata Unirii. There, I stepped into a new, open, luminous and truly spectacular world. Wherever I turn my head, I find something significant and deserving of attention.

Workers are carting around sand in the park belonging to the Zion Synagogue, restored with European funding. Across the street, two women are making pastries on the ground floor of a coffeecolored building, peppered with yellow and green terracotta pots.

From the outside, the Black Hawk Palace Arcade is freshly restored while on the stained-glass covered interior, renovations are well on their way.

Photos: Voicu Bojan

The Black Hawk Palace Arcade is one of the most impressive examples of Viennese architecture I’ve ever seen. Tears well up when I think of the dilapidated state of the Urania Arcade in Cluj, another model of extraordinary Viennese architecture, located just two blocks from my home.

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A Taste of the Homeland: Oradea

It doesn’t matter to me that the contractors are sweeping layers of dust into my face from their scaffolds. With my peasant’s hat on backwards and my mouth hanging open in awe, I try to imagine how spectacular it will look when it’s ready.

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Across the Square are ordinary streets that form the perimeter of the former Jewish Ghetto. This neighborhood was home to 26,260 of the 161,639 people from North Transylvania who were deported during May and June of 1944. Among them was a 13 year old girl named Eva Heyman.

A little bit further, across the street from the spectacular Greek-Catholic palace, built in renaissance style, I discover the famous Moon Church.

The building itself is a typical Christian Orthodox church from the 18th century. What makes it unique is the sphere above the entrance. Half black, half golden, displaying the moon’s rotation on a daily basis, this mechanism is the work of a master clockmaker named Georg Rueppe.

OFF TO FELIX One of the most amusing things about the Oradeans is the way that they brag about how rarely they visit Băile Felix, the popular thermal spa resort, located only a few kilometers away from the city. In light of the depressing weather, I decide to see what uplifting experience the hot springs resort might offer.

I head straight for Apollo, the classic thermal bath of Felix. It has been renovated, but still has the same logo. It looks like lettuce with eyes, imitating a water lily. Despite the renovations, the style is tired.

The architecture is a nightmarish combination of rustic Austrian with elitist accents, daring communist cubism and post-revolutionary thermo pane windows. Other than that, the Apollo basin is cute, clean, and fairly empty. The main pool, appropriate for swimming and bathing, has a pleasant temperature. However, the pool in the back is about 35-38 degrees Celsius, depending how far away you are from the river source.

Photos: Voicu Bojan

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A Taste of the Homeland: Oradea I lay around the pool for two hours, floating about like a rubber duck in a bathtub, eavesdropping on various conversations about the science of thermal springs and the psychology of rheumatoid arthritis.

Many Apollo guests are Romanians returned home for the holidays. I identify the German-Romanian, the Spanish-Romanian and the Irish-Romanian. Their favorite theme is the outrageous price of apartments and rent around Europe.

Further away, a salesperson posing as a natural medicine specialist is sipping from a 2 liter bottle of healing potion containing water, lemon, ginger, garlic and honey, which is guaranteed to work miracles.

The listeners are mesmerized by all the diseases that can be healed by this natural remedy.

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BACK TO ORADEA When I begin to feel that I’m starting to catch all the diseases mentioned by the salesperson, I abandon the hot springs.

At the streetcar ticket booth located on the edge of the city, there is a sign: “Eating is strictly forbidden, maintain silence.”

Eating would’ve ensured silence, I tell myself.

I retire for the evening in an aparthotel that is named after the legendary island featured in King Arthur’s fables: Avalon Rooms.

Thanks to a code sent by text, I manage to get in, sleep in an elegant bed, receive a bill and leave the next morning without laying eyes on a single soul. I just left money on the mini bar to settle the bill. I feel invigorated by the trust and hopeful for the human race.

I head to Tapta where I order a breakfast of champions: two quail eggs, tomatoes drizzled with olive oil and an impeccable latte macchiato. An unexpected piece of news arrives over breakfast. The mayor of Oradea, Ilie Bolojan, is expecting me at 11:00 AM sharp.

DAY TWO

MEETING MAYOR BOLOJAN

Today it is sunny, fresh and promising. I cross the Central Park, heading towards the Oradea Fortress, newly restored and open to the public.

This was the residence of the Roman-Catholic Chancellery for about 400 years and a military residence for another 300 years.

The meeting unfolds like a boxing match, in which the two adversaries declare their intentions without being stingy about the punches they throw.

Afterwards, they rest for a while, giving the impression that they’re hugging tenderly.

The fortress, which has been attacked by Tatars, Turks, Transylvanians and Austrians, is now a cultural center, sheltering art pieces and important books, connecting the Eastern world to Western civilization.

Mayor Ilie Bolojan is not an easy conversationalist, but he’s not hesitant either. I have seldom come across a man as firm on his stance as he. Although the dialogue takes the form of a monologue, it is full of content.

It’s strange that the backdrop for this venerable 900 year old architectural wonder is a string of communist buildings.

Mayor Bolojan

The subjects of conversation are plentiful: the parking problem, renovation of the facades, new central heating systems, moving electrical cables underground, pedestrian walkways, the destiny of synagogues and the new aqua park. I’ll selectively reiterate the ideas that I enjoyed most.

No matter what you pay people for their property, they end up telling you what a woman told me when I received her for a meeting: ‘you can’t redeem my memories, you bastard.’

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This is a general illness affecting Romanian politicians. The focus is on press releases and uploading images to Facebook pages. The reality is that very little happens, because doing things is risky.

We lose our popularity, our votes, and we can be kicked out.

I live my life according to this principle. When I’m convinced of the benefit of a project, I see it through to the end. A courageous project, such as paving a new road through a suburb involves demolition and expropriation. As a result, you’re called a communist, dictator and robber.

Photos: Voicu Bojan

“When I first ran for office, it was still considered an honor to be mayor. That is no longer the case.

When 25 out of the 47 city halls have numerous corruption allegations against them, all of us feel the burn. Nowadays, political figures run away from responsibility and concentrate on their image.

Napoleon Bonaparte once said something like this: ‘If you wish to be someone, be assured that you’ll cause some upheaval.

But if you don’t disturb anyone, you’ll have disturbed everyone by your lack of action.’

We’ve been a construction zone for the last four years. Now, we have to step up to a superior level of development, based on two fundamental ideas: our architectural patrimony, consisting of hundreds of historical buildings; and the natural, geothermal springs. Next, we’ll consider cultural and gastronomic events.

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There’s no point in having sister cities in New Zealand, we need to have Cluj and Timisoara as sister cities, so we can create something together and borrow positive energy from one another. Together, as a 3-in-1 package, we might be able to compete with Europe’s larger cities.

Otherwise, working alone, it’s much harder.”

At the end of our discussion, I asked him to look out the window together and describe the view a little bit.

“Do you see the synagogue? Starting on the 15th of the month, it will have a visitation program. Two more synagogues will be transformed into a museum and cultural center. We have a klezmer music group that plays traditional Jewish music and we are preparing a series of cultural events as well as concerts every so often.

Where you see the construction site: that’s going to be made into a parking lot with 400 parking spaces.

You know the saying: No parking, no business.

Do you see the bridge? I call the contractor when I see workers aren’t doing anything. Get them to work.

The best way to work on our image is by working hard on our projects.”

He’s a respected, efficient and pragmatic man who pushed the city into action more than any of the former mayors, particularly because he knew how and when to access European funds.

JEWISH HERITAGE As soon as I exit City Hall, I go directly to the Zion Synagogue thanks to the information I’ve just obtained. There is a green carpet on the floor, with tracings of a soccer field and even two small nets. A handful of players made out of cardboard emulate a soccer game.

The scene is absurd, in utter contrast with all that is a sacred space. But this is only until you look closely and realize that that this is an exhibition to pay homage to the Jewish-Hungarian trainers and players from elite soccer.

A Taste of the Homeland: Oradea Time seems to stand still as I walk through the players. It’s quiet and the blue dome is magnetic. I leave as discretely as I entered.

In the square, I meet Mr. Alexandru Tolvai. He’s 88-years-old and in the mood for storytelling.

He recounts what the square was like before, the way he cried when his Jewish friends were deported, how he signed up for the Hungarian military police and wore a rooster’s feather, and the 8 months he spent in a Russian concentration camp.

Even though the sun is timidly shining, I suddenly get chills and wrap my clothes around me. Time suddenly stops and things connect in a bizarre way. The present moment and history become one.

Beside me, so close that I can touch him, is a man who was a military police officer in 1944, wearing a rooster’s feather on his black helmet.

It’s a known fact that there was an armed branch of the repressive Hungarian regime. Their zeal awed even the SS officers. I do not need anymore information from Mr. Tolvai.

I turn my head to follow the direction Mr. Tolvai’s cane is pointing. I see the Jewish ghetto, which was the home of the Transylvanian Anne Frank, Eva Heyman.

On February 13, 1944, the 13 year old Eva Heyman began to record her memories in a journal. Her text personifies “the interwoven hope and despair, that strange union of the oppressor’s arrogance with the victim’s humiliation, of the presentiment of death mingled with a desire to live, all of these governed by fear, anxiety and panic,” as affirmed by Oliver Lustig in the preface of the book.

The destiny of her friend Marta who was deported and shot to death in 1941 begins to obsess Eva. Marta, the friend she went on long bicycle rides with and shared snacks of strawberries and whipped cream. Somehow, Eva knows she’ll join in Marta’s destiny, yet with every journal entry she clings to life and the desire to live.

“My little Diary, everyone is saying that they’ll send us to Hungary, that all the Jews are being gathered somewhere near Balaton where we’ll all have to work, but I don’t believe it. It must be horrendous in that train; and now everyone is saying that they’ll deport us rather than take us there.

I’ve never heard the word deport before.

I don’t want to die, I lived so little! And she (Marta) was only a child but still, the Germans killed her. But I don’t want that, I don’t want to be killed. I want to become a photojournalist and when I turn 24, I want to get married...” www.pressone.us 85

A Taste of the Homeland: Oradea After she was deported, the journal remained in the care of the family’s chef. In the concentration camp, Eva did everything she could do to remain unobserved – until that fatal day on October 17 when Doctor Mengele himself selected her for the gas chambers. In 1948, her journal was published in Budapest. Immediately after, Eva’s mother Agi, who was freed by the allies from the Bergen-Belsen concentration camp, committed suicide.

As I walk through the streets, I reminisce about Eva’s tragic story. I have great admiration for the 30 Oradea citizens, who cycled 500 kilometers to Auschwitz, to ensure that this remarkable young lady will not be forgotten.

WRAPPING UP

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Before heading into the train station, I wander into a florist named Marius Sabău. He has a chic little pavilion made out of wood, right on the shores of the Criș River, where the first boardwalk of the city used to be.

That’s where he and his wife create beautiful bouquets while classical music plays in the background. Marius is what would be considered a normal man. He’s a man at peace with his work, he loves his city and knows its history.

Since my journey is about to come to an end, I decide to cross another few things off my list.

A friend drives me to the Mushroom, the go-to place for young couples in love, now completely revamped.

With a newly groomed terrace, the hill looks fairly avant-garde, scattered with wooden benches, lookout points and even a restaurant at the top where a salata de vinete (the Romanian babaganoush) is surprisingly tasty.

Towards the Hungarian-Romanian border, the once old industrial zone is being replaced by a new bicycle lane connecting to the one in Hungary, which goes to Vienna and beyond.

www.pressone.us

21.20. About an hour after the train has departed from Oradea and I am nodding off with a book on my chest, a little elderly woman appears out of nowhere like in a fairytale. Armed with a Bible, she says to me: “Look here, in John 17, it says something important: ‘And this is Eternal Life: that they might know Thee, the One True God’...”

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Photo Essay – Oradea

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A look at what Romania looks like when local government is committed to improving the quality of life for it’s citizens.

Photo: Primăria Oradea

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Photos: Primăria Oradea

Photos: Ovi Pop

Photo: Primăria Oradea

Photos: Primăria Oradea

Photo: Ovi Pop

Photo: Primăria Oradea

THE PRESSONE WAY The PressOne way is our belief that the best stories are born when public interest meets a journalist’s personal curiosity.

It occurs when an undiscovered, inflammable substance is sparked by a personal approach.

The PressOne journalist starts with an original idea or approach of a known topic It continues with thorough documentation, which is achieved by thinking of the reader, not of somebody’s political or business interest And is completed with a combined package of “text & image” meant to provide a unique satisfaction to the reader as they have been respected, not lied to.

Subscribe to PressOne Quarterly at www.pressone.us If you’d prefer to pay by check, mail the shipping addresses and $50 per annual subscription for our quarterly magazine to: PressOne Quarterly PO Box 498065, Cincinnati, OH 45249 Thanks for supporting independent media in Romania!

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