The Ritual Master Books have the power not only to transport you in time, but also to make everything more enticing. Maybe it’s a women’s thing, but I have a feeling I’m not the only one who said “oh how I wish I lived in that time !” while reading Jane Austen or Flaubert… And then, invariably, a somehow pragmatic mind around us, asks “really ? you would like to live in a time with no indoor plumbing ? and where you could die of a common cold ?”. And the dream falls apart… However, thanks to the many written testimonies of our ancestors, we can easily create a moment out of time, with a little imagination and maybe some research.
Born in 1907, Mircea Eliade spent his youth in that between time I spoke of in our Book episode, where people rejoiced in the peace of the after-war, and had no idea of what was to come. For Romania, the political life was tumultuous, but the cultural life had one of the most prosperous times in history. Romanian high-society spoke french and dressed in Paris, but also brough back home new styles and cultural trends, that blended with the oriental-feel of a country long influenced by the Ottoman Empire. The result was a charming mix of elegance and familiarity, a time when education and good-manners were non-negociable, but they did not make for stiff and stereotyped adults. Instead, I find a remarcable freedom of speech in the writings of that generation, and a charming blend of styles for their entertainment….
Welcoming guests
An oriental custom introduced in the Romanian culture somewhere in the 18th century, and that perdured well into the 20th century, serving preserves to your guests would have been a standard in Mircea Eliade’s youth. Constanta Vintila-Ghitulescu is a social historian that brought to light and masterfully explained many details of the Romanian society through the ages. Speaking of this very subject, her conclusions are clear : preserves are part of a ritual, an indispensable food in any type of social interaction. Therefore, collecting and exchanging recipes, testing through trial and error, preparing and stocking various types of preserves, was an important part of any woman’s life. Nowadays, seeing it is not a necessity anymore, the process of making jam or preserves, can become a meditation ritual. A moment to enjoy the contact with nature and its bountiful gifts, to carefully measure the two basic ingredients, and enjoy a moment of simple pleasures.
When it comes to serving, the sources have reached a consensus. Whether it is in novels, in diaries or love letters, the ritual was always the same. The precious concoction was kept in a special jar, made of glass or cristal, called “chisea”. At the clap of a hand, a maid would appear with a silver tray, holding a chisea full of preserves, small cristal cups for serving each guest, and glasses of cold water. Then, after the sweets were tempered by large quantities of water, little cups of coffee would appear, resembling the turkish style. Coffee and preserves open any discussion, any reception or invitation, any meal, any feast; they are omnipresent, and in the pantry of any household, you can find dozens of types of preserves.
So if you want to travel in time, nothing can be easier. Just open a jar of jam…
Romanian… tango
Bucharest in the 1920’s was rapidly transforming into a modern capital. But the recent hardships left an urgency to cherish life and enjoy every moment. European style cafés opened all over the city, replacing the oriental practices. Restaurants and most of all summer gardens, became the meeting spot for friends and family. And of course, the entertainment was a must. Musical styles of that time were influenced by North and South American music, so you would often hear jazz-like songs, and local adaptations of the tango. Many famous composers have managed to record their creations and insure their memory in time. But there is one I cherish most…
George Sbârcea was born in 1914 in the city of Toplita. Losing his father at the age of 9, he completes his studies with a sense of responsibility towards his family, and goes on completing a law degree at the University of Cluj. But deep-down, the legal circuit does not interest him. Instead, he finds great pleasure in composing music, and takes a chance by creating his own travelling orchestra, against the advice of his family. He takes the surname Claude Romano, and will becomeone of the most famous composers of the 1930’s, and a passionate promoter of the argentinian tango. In 1938, he receives the Légion d’Honneur from Charles de Gaulle, in Paris.
And in the early 1990’s, he reaches the ears of a very young girl, fascinated by the pronunciation of the singers, later on, moved by the words, and still mesmerised by the way music can transport you in time, even today. My parents had a vinyl record called The most wonderful tangos, Cele mai frumoase tangouri. It its paper covers, it still holds today, cele mai frumoase amintiri. The most wonderful memories.
The perfume of memories
In all the years I lived in Bucharest, there was one moment, one evening as a stolen glimpse from the past, that is as vivid in my mind as if it happened yesterday. It was a very hot summer, and the Cismigiu Gardens were the only place to be in the evening. Walking around the alleys, some of them lit by old-fashioned street lamps, others in almost complete darkness, I heard the distant sound of music. Getting closer and closer, passing groups of people of all ages, hearing laughter and the music getting closer, I finally arrived in front of two couples, dancing the tango under a large tree, that embalmed the air with the sweetest perfume.
Reading Eliade’s book today, many years after that evening, I recognise the same atmosphere :
Robert se culca iar pe banca, cu privirile in tei. Gandeste. Muzica a incetat. Trec perechi pe sub alei si Dinu le urmareste cu ochii. Inceput de vara, cu ispite.
And he lay down on the bench again, his gaze still fastened on the linden tree. He was thinking. By now, the music had stopped. Couples came walking past under the trees, and Dinu watched them. Ah ! the first days of summer and all their temptations !
Even today, one of the natural smells that instantly bring me back to Bucharest, is the linden tree in its most extravagant season of bloom. Nothing can compare to the instant your olfactory memory kicks in, and you are carried away, through the rabbit hole of your memory, to a very precise moment in time. The linden tree carries on its branches myths from all over the world, but what I believe to be even more precious, is the precise and unique feeling each of us has, when smelling it.
If you missed the season, or if you simply miss IT, a linden flower infusion will get you right where you need to be. I am currently on a bench in the Cismigiu Gardens, talking nonsense with Claude Romano.
I hope you will forgive my moment of nostalgia, I can assure you it was all light and joy.
Until next time, enjoy your reading, and your rituals !
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