Stone Monkey

Stake Their Reputation

in Transylvania

In the wee hours, after a torturous journey from Bucharest, the 'British Contingent’ arrived in Medias, Transylvania, Romania. Home of Count Dracula (Vlad the Impala to his dyslexic mates, Nigel to his Mum). Our hosts were Romanian families: teachers, glass-blowers, insurance salesmen, the Director of Radio Medias, for example. They had one thing in common; incredible hospitality.
Despite the time, there was a spread waiting for all of us, including our introduction to 'Polinka', a universally home-made industrial cleaning product deceptively put in the first convenient bottle to hand. When my host offered me what appeared to be flat lemonade I wasn't prepared to have my nasal hairs removed from the inside. When I could speak properly again the following Wednesday) I asked what was in it. The reply was a suspiciously nonchalant "err... Fruit." This high-octane poison was a feature with every single meal starting with breakfast.

The food? - It was superb! Refuse third helpings and you’ll be met with pouting and cocker spaniel hurt eyes. It was like kicking a puppy. I would begin to sweat at the thought of another meal, but I also noticed that the hosts ate little themselves and that nothing was wasted; these were hard-up people spending precious money to keep me bloated. I reflected on this as I faced another full plate. Their strong sense of hospitality showed in hundreds of little ways and was, frankly, humbling. We were all treated like royalty.

Onto business. The British Contingent was Stone Monkey, Dolphin Morris, a Scottish dance team, a group from the ‘London Conner Academy of Irish Dance’ and a welsh team. Each had to send representatives to meet the mayor of Medias. Loaded with presents from Nottingham council we were lead into the mayor’s chamber. One couldn’t help noticing the heavy blackout curtains, the candles and the Suspiciously boxy desk. The mayor was tall and dark with impeccable manners but, to be honest, he could have done with the address of a good orthodontist (those canines must have given him gip)

At this point we explained our predicament

A certain airline un-named for tear of libel proceedings (I will refer to them as Brutish Arseways or BA.) decided that our 'weapons' should go in the hold. Cut to an empty Bucharest airport luggage carousel you’ve probably guessed the gist of our problem. The mayor was sympathetic, asked for a sketch of the swords, and then promised us he'd see what could be done. -

Time for a tour of Medias, a medieval city in the middle of Romania, in the huge area called Transylvania (means road across the forests). In amongst the industrial/domestic eyesores are beautiful churches, medieval fortified towers and gatehouses and pastel-painted nineteenth century buildings. Main industries -the 'Automechanica' tractor factory, a lead crystal factory and a huge, dirty installation which was not (as you’d think) a Chemical plant but a 'Meat Products' factory, home of the nasty pink rubbery things I'd eaten for breakfast urrgh!

There were several day trips out. We visited Sighisoara with the Citadel; the birthplace of Dracula and home of his father, yes -Dad the Impaler! We bought our flaming torches from the stand and ran up the cobbled bill shouting, "kill the monster!" In the church in the Citadel someone was actually playing Gothic organ music - very apt. We also visited the open-air museum of workplaces with, our guide told us lots of old meals. "Meals?" we asked… "Yes, weend meals, water meals, saw meals, you know…"!

Radio Medias broadcast a live link-up with Radio Nottingham from it's base in a Medieval fortified tower. Steve was asked if he had any preconceptions of Romania and the world held its breath as East-West relations hung in the balance.... ^"Urrr. –No" was the reply. The world breathed again and diplomats’ hands withdrew from the telephones.

Onto Saturday, and Romania's first exposure to Rapper dancing.

The mayor had taken our drawings to the tractor factory and had pulled out the stops to get replacements made incredible! - We were presented with Romanian-made longswords and Rapper swords. The longswords were a mixture of ‘Pirates of Penzance’ and ‘Halloween’, short, gold-painted and viciously pointed!

But the Rappers...

Our drawings were scaled up perfectly to nearly two-and-a-half foot long with fist-sized swivel handles on then. However? The main thing you'd notice was the quarter inch steel plate they were made from. One thing we had failed to yet across was the word ‘flexible’. We are nothing, if not adaptable, and after an interesting hour we began to realise that we could start a whole new tradition - the non-bendy sword dance!

Our first engagement was a tour of the town - in kit- ending with a dance outside the town hall. Who knows what the Romanians made of us, but Brian - Betty extraoidinaire- kept everyone entertained and also added to his tough-looking-policemen-I-have kissed collection. The non-bendy Rapper dance went down very well not surprisingly since even Romanian money features a Stone Monkey on it

Sunday, the BIG day. Bazna is a nearby village and host to the festival. We set off on the parade to the festival minus Chris and P.T. They arrived in the nick of time, pretty sheepish. They'd left a party at 4.30 ann. sack home they found the door locked and tried, as quietly as two very, very drunk chaps could, to attract attention. Just as the flats occupants had begun to shout alarmingly P.T. spotted that they were in the wrong block! They exited into the arms of the law (the arms being an AK47). Unable to speak even English, they were put up for the night at the station and next morning remembered the organiser’s name. Still, no harm done

The Romanian teams were spectacular. The women in colourful embroidered aprons and the men in embroidered sheepskin waistcoats -handed down from father to son- and high boots. Transylvanian dancing involves lots of shouting, stamping, spinning women (so their skirts billow out) andplenty of manic boot slapping One particular team was amazingly similar to Morris dancing with their bells and sticks. The music is fast and staccato, played on violin, accordion and mandolin.

We did our bit in front of the biggest crowd we'd ever seen and were given the freedom of the City and a choice of several wives (ok. perhaps I exaggerate) - The whole experience was not to be missed, there were tears in the eyes of some hosts as we left, read into that what you will.

©Dave Mortin 1997