Beatrice Hamblett Photography

Suceava—Day 4, Little Sister Ioanna

3 min read

It was my last night at the pensione in the tiny village of Moldavitza in the northern province of Suceava, Romanian. Just a smattering of buildings—a monstery, a few small stores and a dozen houses—Moldavitza is part of a 200-kilometer circle of villages and towns which are home to the renowned UNESCO painted monasteries of Bucovina.*

After dinner, I wandered past the monastery and the cemetery where a large steep hill forms a backdrop over the town, smooth and well shorn by the eager mouths of local horses and cows. Dusk was passing into night and the hill beckoned. I climbed higher and higher. So steep was the hill I had to trek barefoot through the damp grasses to get a foothold. Like the seduction of a clear smooth lake to the swimmer, I listened to the Siren’s call climbing up and up for a better view then higher still. And indeed, it was so high the monastery looked to be a miniature far below and the valley beyond appeared vast, nestled between the surrounding mountains, a sweet fog moving in to embrace all.

Along the way up, I met two horses and a shadow of a third, far enough away to be only a dim outline. Then my better sense said, “Better go down while the path is still visible.” Suddenly I heard voices below moving in my direction— 5, 6 people, 2 large dogs, maybe, hiking upward. “Buena sera,” I called out and then a nun appeared at the head of the group, young and dressed in a long black habit. It turns out, she, with her nephews and family, had set out for an evening trek.

“Where are you from,” she said with a smile and then upon learning I was from the US, “Oh, please, let’s speak English. I don’t get much practice!” She was fluent, had spent 8 years in Upstate NY.— Ellenville to be exact where she had studied and entered the order. From that moment we were sisters,  Upstate New York a home to both of us although thousands of miles away. We traveled up and down the Hudson River in our excitement naming towns we both knew.

We chatted a bit more and then parted without an exchange of cards or email addresses. I wanted to say, “Can I see you again?” as if we had just passed a first date. But my tongue got shy assuming that little sisters in monasteries would not welcome the distractions of the modern world—not email, blogs nor Facebook. So we said good bye and probably in both our hearts hoped for another meeting not too far in the future.

*Among the most picturesque treasures of Romania are the Painted Monasteries of Bucovina (in northeastern Romania). Their painted exterior walls are decorated with elaborate 15th and 16th century frescoes featuring portraits of saints and prophets, scenes from the life of Jesus, images of angels and demons, and heaven and hell. Seven of the churches were placed on UNESCO's World Heritage list in 1993.

Suceava—Day 4, Little Sister Ioanna

3 min read

It was my last night at the pensione in the tiny village of Moldavitza in the northern province of Suceava, Romanian. Just a smattering of buildings—a monstery, a few small stores and a dozen houses—Moldavitza is part of a 200-kilometer circle of villages and towns which are home to the renowned UNESCO painted monasteries of Bucovina.*

After dinner, I wandered past the monastery and the cemetery where a large steep hill forms a backdrop over the town, smooth and well shorn by the eager mouths of local horses and cows. Dusk was passing into night and the hill beckoned. I climbed higher and higher. So steep was the hill I had to trek barefoot through the damp grasses to get a foothold. Like the seduction of a clear smooth lake to the swimmer, I listened to the Siren’s call climbing up and up for a better view then higher still. And indeed, it was so high the monastery looked to be a miniature far below and the valley beyond appeared vast, nestled between the surrounding mountains, a sweet fog moving in to embrace all.

Along the way up, I met two horses and a shadow of a third, far enough away to be only a dim outline. Then my better sense said, “Better go down while the path is still visible.” Suddenly I heard voices below moving in my direction— 5, 6 people, 2 large dogs, maybe, hiking upward. “Buena sera,” I called out and then a nun appeared at the head of the group, young and dressed in a long black habit. It turns out, she, with her nephews and family, had set out for an evening trek.

“Where are you from,” she said with a smile and then upon learning I was from the US, “Oh, please, let’s speak English. I don’t get much practice!” She was fluent, had spent 8 years in Upstate NY.— Ellenville to be exact where she had studied and entered the order. From that moment we were sisters,  Upstate New York a home to both of us although thousands of miles away. We traveled up and down the Hudson River in our excitement naming towns we both knew.

We chatted a bit more and then parted without an exchange of cards or email addresses. I wanted to say, “Can I see you again?” as if we had just passed a first date. But my tongue got shy assuming that little sisters in monasteries would not welcome the distractions of the modern world—not email, blogs nor Facebook. So we said good bye and probably in both our hearts hoped for another meeting not too far in the future.

*Among the most picturesque treasures of Romania are the Painted Monasteries of Bucovina (in northeastern Romania). Their painted exterior walls are decorated with elaborate 15th and 16th century frescoes featuring portraits of saints and prophets, scenes from the life of Jesus, images of angels and demons, and heaven and hell. Seven of the churches were placed on UNESCO's World Heritage list in 1993.

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