Maramures, in northern Romania, provides a window on one of Europe’s last peasant societies. Karen McIntyre reports

In Maramures, a remote enclave of Romania, you can people watch for hours and not get bored. It is rather like stepping back in time, only you do not need a time machine.

Horses and carts amble along dusty streets carrying pretty much anything that needs to be moved – hay, crops, wood, tools, children, piglets. Women sit on wooden benches outside their homes, knitting or spinning wool with hand-held spindles and chatting to their neighbours. Often short and stout, they wear traditional dress – colourful headscarves, woolly cardigans and pleated skirts above the knee, regardless of their age or size.

Amble into the countryside and you will find rolling hills dotted with sheep, haystacks and the occasional swirl of smoke rising from a shepherd’s campfire. There are no walls or fences, these hillsides are common land, their origins dating back long before the communist era.

The region is renowned for its woodcarving and this can be seen everywhere. Intricately designed gateways outside houses, with symbols such as the Tree of Life and the snake (a guardian against evil), were traditionally built to act as a barrier between the safe interior and the unknown outside world. Gothic wooden churches, many of which are Unesco-listed sites, are plentiful and give the landscape a fairytale feel. There are around 100 of them in Maramures and they are famed for their tall wooden spires. One I visited in the ancient village of Surdesti is reputed to be the tallest oak building in the world, its spire rising to a lofty 72 metres.

Cut off from the rest of Romania by the snow-capped Carpathian Mountains, Maramures is an isolated region in the extreme north of the country. Various invaders have considered annexing it over the years, but most have given up the task en route – neither Ottoman Turks nor Romans had the impact here they had elsewhere in the region. My own journey there comprised a four-hour train journey from Cluj-Napoca, which involved tunnels, viaducts, fertile valleys, and stops at remote villages where the station consisted of little more than a signpost and a hut.

Maramures is something of a national treasure to Romanians. When I mentioned I was going there to a couple I met on a bus, their faces lit up. ‘Ah, Maramures… beautiful… old,’ they enthused. Thanks to its remoteness, a very traditional way of life remains here. I spent a few days in the village of Botiza in the lush Izei Valley, where I stayed in a traditional guesthouse owned by my local tour guide for the week, George Lurca. His wife, as well as being a doctor and mother, was a magnificent chef. Everything I was served was delicious and about as organic as you can get – hearty soups and stews, flavourful meat and aromatic cheeses, finished off with homemade plum schnapps. In Baia Mare, the largest town in Maramures, there is a MacDonald’s, but George tells me that very few people eat there. I guess they prefer something a bit more traditional. he crime rate is low in Maramures and community life very strong. When I arrived in Botiza on a Sunday afternoon, the most sociable day of the week for villagers, I found people sitting on wooden benches chatting to each other and watching the world go by. They are curious and friendly, often greeting you with Buna ziua as you pass by. Having come from London where you rarely say hello to your neighbour let along a stranger, it took a bit of getting used to. People here even build houses for each other. Passing through a village on my

first day in Maramures, en route to a local cattle market, we spotted 20 or so villagers doing just this. It takes them three to four months, depending on the availability of materials. Women were joining in too, in a commendable display of ‘girl power’. Wearing wellies with their pleated skirts, a group of them were shovelling grit into a cement mixer with gusto, while the men pushed the wheelbarrows. Maria, the leader of the group, was more than happy to pose for a photo, shovel gripped in hand like a Stalinist shock worker.

‘There is a saying in Maramures,’ said Lurca, ‘that the man is the head of the family but the woman is the neck. When the neck turns the head has to follow.’ He was smiling as he spoke, or maybe grimacing.

Tradition and ritual remains strong in Maramures. Births and marriages are both celebrated in style, with banquets and partying till dawn. Death is as good a reason to throw a party as any, with banquets given six weeks, six months, one year and even seven years after a person’s death.

Needless to say, times they are a-changing in Maramures. Eighteen years ago there were just two cars in the village, one owned by the local priest, and one colour TV – also owned by the priest. Nearly two decades after communist dictator Nicolae Ceausescu got his very public comeuppance there are certainly more cars and just about every house has a satellite dish.

Lurca reminisces about regular folk dances that were held in the villages, in wooden pagoda-like buildings, some of which now stand forgotten and derelict. ‘The young people aren’t interested in the dances anymore, and it’s a great pity,’ he says. ‘They prefer to go to pubs and clubs.’ I spot a few young people in the village wearing jeans and T-shirts, looking rather out of place next to their parents in country dress.

Tourism has not enveloped Maramures by any means, but it is certainly beginning to think about it. Almost every house in Botiza calls itself a guesthouse. There are four ski slopes in the region, and a fifth is under construction with the help of EU funding. During my stay in Botiza a large group of French tourists descend on the village with their campervans, en route to the painted monasteries in neighbouring Bucovina. They have come to people-watch too, albeit in a slightly less tactful way.

I find myself hoping that the spread of global tourism will somehow bypass this tucked away peasant society – perhaps one of the last of its kind in Europe.

Selfishly perhaps, I want it to be preserved, to remain a rural idyll to which I can escape when I want a break from the rat race. This is somewhere, if you are daring enough (as I happened to be one day), you can hitch a lift on a horse and cart through a village. The farmer will be only too happy to give you a ride – indeed it will be an honour and privilege for him.

It is clear that for people who have lived here all their lives, the growth of tourism is a double-edged sword. It might take away some of the things that make Maramures so special, but it will undoubtedly bring money into the region. It has already brought in a lot of business for locals like Lurca – there is rarely a day that goes past when he is not showing tourists around.

A more worrying set of changes that will have to take place is in traditional farming methods practised in Maramures, now that Romania is a member of the EU. Farmers are expected to comply with EU food safety standards by the end of the year, if they want to export to other member states. Dairy farmers will need to start using modern sterilisation, cooling and transportation equipment to bring their produce in line with hygiene standards.

In the meantime they can only sell their wares on the domestic market. All stocks of produce that fall below the standards will need to be used up by the end of the year, or else removed from the market.

Driving through the countryside we come across shepherds with their flocks and sheep dogs. They stay in the hills for three months in the summer, making cheese in the same way as their ancestors and protecting their flocks from wolves and bears. They smile and drop their sticks as we stop briefly to take photos, but you feel that their smiles must surely belie a sense of worry over the future. You wonder how well the Romanian government has prepared them for the changes that lie ahead.

Getting there

Transylvania Uncovered organises tailor-made tours of Maramures, with a meet-and-greet service. A typical seven-night excursion, including flights from the UK to Bucharest, overnight transfers via sleeper train and five nights’ full board in a traditional local guesthouse starts at £425 ($850) per person.
www.beyondtheforest.com

What to see

Wooden churches
The famous wooden churches of the region are not to be missed. Those in the villages of Burdesti, Sudesti and Leud are among the tallest and oldest.

The Merry Cemetery, Sapanta
Marvel at the beautiful, wood-carved crosses in the region’s most famous cemetery. Each cross has a witty epitaph to the deceased along with cartoonish pictures about their professions and hobbies. Sometimes they even depict how the person died.

Viseu de Sus
Ride up through the Vaser Valley on a narrow-gauge railway which is still used to bring down logs from the mountains. It will take you to the traditional logging town of Viseu de Sus.

Prison of the Ministers, Sighet
Between 1948 and 1952 many of the country’s political leaders and intellectual opponents of communism were imprisoned here – some never left. It is dark and thought-provoking place, but unmissable if you want to gain an understanding of Romania’s communist history.

Where to stay

There is no shortage of guesthouses in Maramures; almost every house offers a room. The best of rural Romanian life can be experienced in the villages of the Izei and Mara Valleys. Many will offer full-board lodging for around $20 a night. Traditional cuisine includes sarmale – rolls of soured cabbage or vine leaves stuffed with rice and minced pork, and mamaliga – polenta served with yogurt.