A post popped up on my Facebook feed about a music festival in Nucșoara, a village in Romania nearly halfway between Brașov and Bucharest. Always interested in what the good people at Casa Bună are doing, I clicked to read more.

The two-day fundraising gig included music, hiking, biking, camping, and food. Of those, food was about all that interested me.

I’m privileged to know the hearts behind the initiative and am a huge fan of their work so I penned a quick message offering to sponsor some two-day passes for those who might not have the wherewithal to attend.

Locals had free entry, they said. They were targeting people who could afford to pay the ~€90 for the two days.

My music knowledge is stuck in the 80s and I know nothing about Romanian music. My hiking these days is limited to relatively flat terrain. Currently bikeless, I see an electric one in my far future. Even glamping is pushing it for me.

Why not come anyway, they said. It’d be great to see you.

As luck would have it, I’d planned to go to Romania that week, to Oradea, with my visiting friend who’s a bit of a music head, like himself. I’d no problem selling the pair of them on the idea of flying to Brașov, renting a car and heading for the hills.

I’ve been to Transylvania (trans. across the woods) a couple of times and loved it. But it’s been a while. This time, we were heading to Muntenia (trans. land of mountains), to Argeş County, a new territory for me.

After multiple stops, we finally got to the site late afternoon, checked in, got our wristbands, said our hellos, and promised to be back for the music at 7 pm. Our accommodation was at the end of a teeth-rattling road over the hill.

The festival promo material was clear about its mission:

It aims to tell stories in a unique and friendly way about the nature, culture and story of Nucșoara under the Făgăraș mountains, to bring as many children and adults as possible to the projects, programs and adventures of Casa Bună in the area.

The children who benefit from the programme (urban and rural) mingled happily with the many volunteers, sponsors, and musicians. The good vibes were palpable. Everyone was smiling, happy to be involved in whatever way. The merchandising was practical – tote bags, cloth keyrings, t-shirts, and mugs – all bearing the Casa Bună strapline: A face bine e molipsitor – Doing good is contagious. They believe that doing good can become the new norm.

Their focus is on forming communities of good people. Initially, they were all about education. But then the penny dropped. How can children who rarely get to eat a hot meal, who often have no shoes and shabby clothes, who get sick easily, how can they concentrate in school?

Now Casa Bună starts at the basics, with the basics, laying the groundwork for education to happen.

Every year, the 500 children that currently benefit from the programme in Bucharest and beyond, get new clothes. Not secondhand. New. Brand new.

I love this.

We choose that are all new, because receiving good, beautiful things in perfect condition is something very rare for these children.

They help with food and hygiene products, furniture and appliances. Just this week they packed 500 backpacks with back-to-school supplies. More importantly, though, they help the children find their vocation in life and show them that a better life is possible. Guided by the participants, they offer workshops in subjects like programming, design, tailoring, and cosmetics.

We ate local delicacies, sampled the local beer, and sat on bales of hay as we listened to the music: Prima Dragoste, Valeria Stoica, Delta pe Obraz, and Eyedrops. And as I listened I got caught up in the wave of goodness.

Our flight had been at 5 am that morning and I’d had no sleep the night before. I’d managed all of an hour’s kip when we’d checked into our accommodation and I was running on empty. But it was a crystal clear, happy empty that was brimming with emotion.

In addition to Casa Bună’s house in Bucharest, they also have a cabana in  Nucșoara, which was built for them by Bikers for Humanity, another giving organisation of good-hearted people who simply want to do good.

Our mind has incredible power that can do wonders and when it’s supported by a giving heart, the universe can take on another shape. Obviously, it’s the universe of the people around us that were not lucky enough to have everything that each of us has and that we can use to give further.

They’ve expanded the space by building tented terraces and it was here, at the cabana, that everyone gathered on Sunday.

We’d missed the culture walk on Saturday morning and decided to go on the hike on Sunday to see some of the famous Făgăraș Mountains, home to the highest peak in Romania – Moldoveanu (2,544 m).

The lovely Marina volunteered to translate for us as we set off. Had I had an inkling of what I was in for, I’d have stayed back. But I didn’t. And I’m glad.

It’s hard to do justice to Romania when it comes to scenery. Breathtaking doesn’t come close. It’s like Albania and Slovenia on steroids.

We climbed near vertical slopes, all I could think of was that coming down the far side would be treacherous.

From 7 to 70+ the gang simply got on with it, putting one foot after the other as we made our way to the summit of Strungii, some 1167 m above sea level.

I’d been sure we’d reached the top when I saw a table under a yellow plum tree spread with salted bread and fresh cheeses. Never had food tasted so good.

But no.

We had to climb higher.

And we did.

One young lad was bursting with the excitement of conquering his first peak.

As climbing Carrantuohill, Ireland’s tallest peak at 1038 m, always seemed an impossible feat for me, I was feeling a little chuffed myself.

Of course, the conversation eventually turned to what makes a mountain a mountain, with all involved citing the Hugh Grant movie The Englishman Who Went Up a Hill but Came Down a Mountain as the source of their information. I’ve since checked.

Basically, any peak above 8,200 feet (2,500m) is a mountain; as is any outcrop of 4,900-8,200 feet (1,500-2,500m) with a slope of at least 2°; as is a peak of 3,300-4,900 feet (1,000-1,500m) with a slope steeper than 5° or a local elevation range above the surrounding area of at least 300m for a 7km radius.

On the way down, we saw bear scat and a large paw print. A passing shepherd told us that a bear had been sighted earlier that day.

We saw massive, centuries-old beech trees in a magical forest, trees you can adopt.

We saw even higher mountains in the distance as we heard stories of the partisans who formed the local resistance movement in the 1950s. There’s a house in the village with a plaque outside, which I stopped at on our way out.

<img class=”aligncenter wp-image-28604 size-full” src=”https://unpackingmybottomdrawer.com/wp-content/uploads/2024/09/20240901_154605_resized.jpg” alt=”Poster that reads MEMORY LANES. Armed Resistance in Făgăraş

"When faith is missing, you can no longer distinguish between right and wrong. You grope, you go astray, today you follow someone, tomorrow another one, and in the end you say that there is no one who knows the truth or that the truth does not exist. […] Through faith, you even fulfill your duty to your country more strongly. I know that the communists feared nothing more than people’s faith in Christ. They understood better than anyone that a faithful n is one less slave. If they preached atheism, it was because that was the only way they could get the people out from under the strongest protection." – King Michael I in "Conversations with King Michael I" by Mihai Ciobanu

TOMA ARNAUTOIU (February 14, 1921-July 18, 1959) Born in the family of teacher lon Arnauțoiu, he showed an inclination towards a military career. He graduated fourth in his promotion from the Cavalry Officers’ School and was decorated with the "Crown of Romania" Order following his participation on the Western Front, being wounded during the battles on Hungarian territory. He was discharged in August 1947 as part of the political purges carried out in the army. Unreconciled with the idea of ​​the communalization of Romania, he organized, together with Gheorghe Arsenescu, one of the longest-lived Romania, "The Muscel Outlaws". After confrontations with the Securitatoed the group was eliminated by betrayal on May 20, 1958. Toma A and executed in Jilava penitentiary on July 18, 1959.

MARIA PLOP (September 14, 1927-January 31, 1962)

Originally from the town of Prisacani (lasi county), Maria Plop was born into a family of poor peasants. Following the events of August 1944, she took refuge in Muntenia, arriving in the village of Nucsoara, in the house of the Arnăuțoiu family. Involved in the activities of the "The Muscel Outlaws" by the Arnăuțoiu brothers, she would accompany them in the mountains until 1958. She was active until the complete annihilation of the group in 1958, giving birth in the mountains to Toma Arnäutolu’s daughter (years later, Iana Voicu-Arnăuțoiu became a professor at the Bucharest Conservatory and an exceptional violinist). After her arrest, Maria Plop was investigated, tried and sentenced to hard labor for life. Due to the harsh detention regime, she died in the penitentiary of Miercurea Ciuc on January 31, 1962.

ELISABETA RIZEA (June 28, 1912-October 4, 2003) Thanks to strong media coverage, the case of Elisabeta Rizea became a representative one for the resistance against communism. She married Gheorghe Rizea from Nucşoara, who had been strongly affected by the "nationalizations" of 1948 and had connections with the partisans. Moreover, the fighters took the oath of allegiance in the house of the Rizea family. and Elisabeta supported them with food. She was tortured during investigations by captain lon Cârnu, but stoically resisted, refusing to provide information, and was sentenced to prison twice for supporting the group. She was detained between November 1950-June 1956 and June 1958-July 196 1964 in the Pitesti, Jilava, Mislea, Miercurea Ciuc and Arad penitentiaries. After 1989, her case was brought to the attention of the general public through the media one of which was published in on October 4, 2003. and the interviews she gave, the volume "The Story of Elisabeta Rizea from Nucşoara". She died on October 4, 2003.

Panel prepared with the help of Salvamont Arges, the Center for Studies group Nothing without God

17

*

&

144

8

101

7

%

6

$

4

5

€

Y

U

R

T
” width=”1734″ height=”2312″ />

We learned about the asprete, a critically endangered freshwater fish native to only the Vâlsan River in Romania. Our guide for the day showed us photos he’d taken of the fish, his enthusiasm for this living fossil (arguably Europe’s rarest fish) contagious.

The hours lumbered on. We got lost. Phone calls were made and the cavalry arrived to ferry us back to the Cabana.

Not one person complained. They shrugged. They smiled. They chatted. All was good.

The chef had been busy while we were gone and himself commented on how tasty the food was. I abstained. I was too tired to eat.

More music was on the cards but I had gotten wind of a monastery in a cave that closed at 5 and I was anxious to get on the road.

I am grateful that I got to reconnect with old friends and more grateful still that there are communities like Casa Bună (and Bikers for Humanity) who are hell-bent on making this world a better place.

If you are in a giving mood, consider supporting their work.

In 2023, more than 500 children received educational, medical, vocational and decent life support. 433 volunteers, 3284 individual donors and 194 companies joined the association. With their help, the plans turned into joy for over 200 families from several communities in the country – from Bucharest (Ferentari and Jilava), Argeș (Nucșoara, Lerești, Câmpulung) and Brașov (Sânpetru).