This piece was originally written in April 2022.
My wife and I finally made it to Romania for Orthodox Easter for the first time since Europe ground to a Covid ridden standstill March 2020. She hails from the North-Eastern corner of the country, the region of Moldova and grew up just after the fall of communism, first with her grandparents in the agricultural South of the region, then moved north at the age of six to live with her parents in the city of Iași, who were by that point were teaching at the University. Easter is without exception celebrated by the family in the South at the grandparent’s rural village of Vânători (hunters), with the matriarch, Mamaia, coordinating proceedings the throughout the weekend. This includes preparing the vegan for the fasting period before, preparing the homegrown chickens for the Sunday feast, baking the Cozonac (traditional Romanian marble loaf), getting the family to the local church before midnight, and preparing the candles to place on loved one’s graves. This practiced and very much enjoyed celebration of Jesus’ resurrection occurred during communist times, after the fall of the regime, and to this present day, with hundreds of people congregating outside the village Church, candles in hand, to receive their bread, words of advice, and donate a few Lei.
This Easter was different, not only due to being the first Easter in Romania for three years for my wife and I, but due to the looming presence of Ukraine to Romania’s border and the Russian invasion. Checking the flight radar of Europe shows Western Europe swarming with yellow plane icons making their way across the map, with the density slowly thinning to nothing by the point you reach Ukraine, where the no-fly zone starts. Apart from Chisinau in the Republic of Moldova, Iași is the easternmost airport south of Belarus before Ukraine and was extremely busy with Ukrainians at the start of the conflict flying to all destinations except the UK, due to their belligerent immigration rules. The latest numbers of refugees passing through Romania reported by the BBC was almost 800,000.
On previous visits the only indication that Ukraine has a close land border with the country was an abundance of Ukrainian sweets in the markets (equally moreish and calorific). I was even making my way through a packet of Ukrainian double-chocolate bonbons from my last trip, as I read about the tanks crossing the border on BBC from my London desk. I had never heard Ukrainian or Russian spoken and had never met a Ukrainian in Romania. I make this observation as a ‘long-stay’ tourist of Romania, not resident. When we boarded the plane to Iași from Edinburgh on the Monday bank holiday, I was anxious to see what influence the Ukrainian Invasion was having on the region after 60 days of war.
Surface-level impressions indicated surprisingly little had changed. After 10 days I had seen a single Ukrainian number plate, and still heard no Russian or Ukrainian spoken (not that I have sought it out). The war was discussed rarely amongst the family. Farmers ploughed their fields, glitzy shopping malls were as busy as ever, construction continued apace on new apartment blocks and roads, and families celebrated Easter by painting eggs and having barbeques.
Conversation provided more interesting insights. During a meal over Easter Mamaia, my grandmother-in-law, explained that 3 Ukrainian families were given homes in their small village and a visiting student was acting as a translator. She went on to say the church was funding and supporting the families, and that this sort of arrangement was happening across the country.
To get to Iași we travelled via Bucharest and spent a night at my wife’s cousins, who live on the outskirts in Ilfov county. Over a late-night beer and cigarette, they described that the bulk of the action happened over a month ago when the invasion began. Civil organizations and individuals had sprung into action, and the outpouring of compassion and sense of unity against the Russian invasion was huge, having both been part of the Soviet sphere. They expressed frustration that the government had done very little to help other than waive visa requirements and allow any Ukrainians to work in Romania no questions asked, which to my ears sounded remarkably generous given the incompetent, foot-dragging response to refugees of my own, British, government. They spoke of how the bulk of the refugees had moved on from Romania as many had family elsewhere in richer parts of Europe, or at least believed they would earn a better living in a richer country. Language was also a barrier, as despite being neighbours, Romanian is a Latin language with no relation to either Russian nor Ukrainian. This perhaps explains why a quantity of refugees equal to almost 5% of the Romanian population (20 million) can pass into Romania, yet I could not see any outward differences.
For all intents and purposes, it appears that life in Eastern Romania has settled back into the daily rhythm. This is quite natural; panic or emergency mode can only be sustained so long and a functioning, post-communist economy is as good a symbol of defiance against Putin’s Russian as any. But that is not to say the invasion to the East is being ignored; far from it. Minds are ears are keenly focused on the Donbas, Kyiv, and especially Transnistria, the breakaway republic in the east of Moldova. One must not forget that previously Moldova the Romanian region, and the Republic of Moldova (the country) were previously a single entity until the area which is now the Republic of Moldova was ceded to the Soviets as part of the Molotov-Ribbentrop Pact. Romanian is the national language, and there is occasional graffiti across Eastern Romania stating, “Basarabia is Romania” (The historic Basarabia region covers two thirds of the current day Republic of Moldova). Even the Moldovan entry for this year’s Eurovision is a satirical folk-pop song questioning whether a trip between the Moldovan capital of Chisinau and the Romanian Capital of Bucharest is really a trip between two countries or simply one. The sabre-rattling (sadly a common term nowadays) in Transnistria is deeply concerning and people are praying that is stays just that and does not escalate further. The appreciation of the Ukrainian forces for keeping the Russians at bay cannot be underestimated.
My wife and I are due to have our Romanian Orthodox wedding and reception in Iași at the end of July, having already had a Covid Civil wedding in the UK. Some of the British guests have reached out to express their worries over the proximity of the conflict. It is impossible for me to advise one way or the other, as each person has their own tolerance to risk, but I try to explain what I have heard, seen, and felt; Romania is open for business but is more than aware of the threat on its border. We are decided to go ahead with the event if it is safe. This morning as I sat drinking a coffee on a sun-drenched terrace overlooking a young cherry orchard, my mother-in-law told me, “We (Romanians) are used to living with the sword over our head;” A feeling the British have not experienced for some time. One can only hope that perhaps the sword might be beaten back by July, for the sake of the Ukrainian people, and they can experience an Orthodox Easter next year.
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