|
his page will be full of stories, related to Petrosani.
In the first place stories from newspapers, and out of books and magazines.
But... also your stories will be published in this chapter!
Tell me your experiences in Petrosani and share them with others on this page!
In March '98 I read a story in my local newspaper (even on the first page!) about
the soccer team Jiul Petrosani. They sold midfielder Ion Radu to the Valcea team for about $2,500
worth of pork. Jiul Petrosani had earlier traded defenseman Liviu Baicea to Valcea for ten soccer balls.
This article was posted in many newspapers on March 02, 1998.
BUCHAREST (AP) _ Talk about a hungry team.
A last-place Romanian soccer club is trying to solve its cash problem by selling players for
food or equipment. Ion Radu, a player for the first-league team Jiul Petrosani, has been
transferred to a second division team in exchange for two tons of meat, the Evenimentul Zilei
newspaper reported Monday. A teammate, Liviu Baicea, was transferred to another team in
exchange for badly needed equipment, the newspaper reported.
There was no immediate confirmation of the deals from the club officials. Jiul Petrosani
has been confronted with major financial problems since its honorary president, Miron Cozma,
the leader of the coal miners, was jailed a year ago.
Cozma, on trial for undermining state authority, used to collect money from miners to
support the team. Jiul is last place among 18 teams.

In Petrosani, the center of the coal mining valley where I spent six very long days, the hotel has almost no water, the shower does not function and the toilet does not flush, but there was a pretty bouquet of wild flowers on the table and the staff was pleasant. They supplied bottled mineral water. On my third day I was in the line for fuel in Vulcan, a neighboring town. I had been in the line for an hour. There was fuel, but there was no electricity to pump it. "It happens all the time," a local man told me. "It is how they make us crazy."
I decided to visit the city hall. There was electricity there. The mayor looked something like Sidney Greenstreet as a Turkish pasha. He wore two rings, a gold watch and a gold bracelet. About the lack of electricity? "A malfunction," the mayor assured me. And the water? "In six weeks there will be water." In six weeks, I remarked, the election campaign will have begun.
On my sixth and what turned out to be my last day in Petrosani , I was to see the top officials of the League of Miners. I went through the obligatory protocol, I drank a glass of water. Perhaps an hour later, in the middle of my first interview, I noticed my handwriting was becoming very tiny, I felt suddenly faint and I passed out. When I woke up, five minutes later, I was drenched with sweat and I could not move, not even my little finger, I noticed with some bemusement. I feel like President Ford, I said, when I could speak. I meant to say that I felt like President Bush in Japan, although I -unshaven, unwashed- did not look like a candidate for a state dinner, despite the rather splendid palace that houses the League of Miners. "You've had a heart attack," they told me. "We've called an ambulance." "No, no," I said, "no heart attack. No ambulance." I did not want to go to the hospital in Petrosani. There is no water in the hospital either. They want to build a new one. Try pumping some water into the old one, I thought. I was too weak to say it. After half an hour, I could stand, with assistance, and I went to the house of a friend. A few hours later I decided it would be a good idea to get out of town.
"Of course you were poisoned," a Romanian friend told me later in Bucharest. "Enough to affect you, not enough to kill you. Good thing you didn't go to the hospital." He seemed quite matter-of-fact about it.
"Why would they want to do that?"
"Who knows? Maybe because you write."
I prefer to think otherwise. But then again, as my friend from Le Monde would say, this is Romania. Nothing can be ruled out entirely.
William McPherson, a former Washington Post editor, is writing a book on Romania.

A Reflection About Petrosani, Romania
by David Costillo
It was definitely the most interesting Fourth of July holiday that I have spent as an American, but I think I could say that it was one of the most memorable. Our group of five students from Biola University in Los Angeles, California left for Romania the middle of June 1998 for a five-week trip into the rural communities to work with orphanages. After being in Bistrita for two weeks, we left and headed for Petrosani. Arriving in Petrosani just a couple days before, we spent our Fourth of July holiday sleeping in late. It was definitely a change: no fireworks, no music, and no cake. But it did contain a new element of patriotism. As soon as we first arrived in Petrosani, I noticed how happy the citizens of this small, quaint mountain town were. They were proud of their accomplishments, of their heritage, of their country, and of their faith in God.
This pride that I saw made me excited to work at the nearby orphanage in Uricani. We were expected to begin our program at the small Christian orphanage the following week. After visiting that Friday, it occurred to me how wonderful this valley was in the middle of the mountains. The scenery in the Retezat Mountains was wonderful. The orphanage in Uricani was situated on the southern side of the valley. Looking around, all you could see were hills covered with green trees and brown fields. To me, this was a child’s dream, a place where you knew that the orphans could be happy and joyful. It seemed as if God dwelt among the trees and spoke through the breezes.
And there was something about the town. After working at the orphanage, we normally found ourselves walking down Petrosani’s Strada Republicii to eat something at Nova Fast Food. A great place to relax and get out of the small rainstorm that had just rolled in. The old buildings, though beginning to rust and break, showed that this town had been around for a long time and would continue to remain for quite some time. On that Fourth of July, just as I was inwardly celebrating my own country’s independence from Britain, I was also celebrating Petrosani’s independence from being its own unique town.
My experience in Petrosani was like no other. I pray that one day I can return to that mountain town and visit the people we stayed with, worked with and laughed with. I hope, as the Romanian government begins to close more coal mines in the Petrosani Valley, that the town will continue to be the stronghold that it has been for hundreds of years.
If you have any questions or comments, I can be e-mailed at dpc78@yahoo.com
Thanks for reading!
David Costillo,
USA, February 1999
   
   

