Relational Place-Making in Maramureş, Romania

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Relational place-making in Maramureş, Romania

A case-study about landscape transformation, cultural heritage protection, migration and tourism; and the role of the politics of place, connectivity and practices in this re-making of place

Anthonet Baijense

Relational place-making in Maramureş, Romania

A case-study about landscape transformation, cultural heritage protection, migration and tourism; and the role of the politics of place, connectivity and practices in this re-making of place

Anthonet Baijense

November, 2013 [email protected]

Wageningen University – Department of Social Sciences

MSc International Development Studies (Research Master Variant - Specialisation Sociology of Rural Development) WUR student registration number: 88090439080

MSc Thesis for the Rural Development Group and the Environmental Policy Group Thesis Supervisors: dr. ir. D. Roep and dr. ir. P.J.M. Oosterveer Thesis Codes: RDS-80436 and ENP-80424

Abstract

Since the 1990s, authors like Doreen Massey started to think space relationally rather than in structuralist terms. In a relational approach to place, places are seen as products of practices and interrelations. As Michael Woods stresses, it is necessary to overcome the urban bias in globalization studies and study the relations between globalization and ruralities. Such bias enables myths about globalization, like the belief that globalization is an abstract, unlocated and homogenising force. A relational approach to place does away with such myths, stressing that globalization is emplaced, rooted in and co-constituted by the ‘local’, in practices and places. Such a relational approach to place, is illustrated in this thesis with a case-study from Maramureş, Romania. Maramureş is formally represented and branded as a traditional region, but its architecture exemplifies that modernization is part of Maramureş as well. Larger and more modern houses are built by migrants and by guesthouse owners, facilitated by the relations and interconnections they have with other people and other places. While some residents thus built new, hybrid spatial identities and spatial practices, the clash between the formal representation and the resulting new landscape creates a conflict over the identity of place. Hence, these politics of place evokes practices of cultural heritage protection and the creation and exploitation of associated interconnectivities, aiming to preserve and create an ‘authentic’ and ‘traditional’ Maramureş. However, the politics of place also offers room for negotiation and the formation of new forms of spatial identity and spatial practice: the creation of a multiplicity of neo-traditional architectural styles, resulting in the hybridization of the landscape. A relational perspective to place, applied to Maramureş, exemplifies that the relation between globalization and ruralities is not one of domination, subordination, nor victimization; but of hybridization, negotiation and contestation. Moreover, the case illustrates that places are relational, products of practices and interconnectivities; and that the global is co-constituted by places, as well by ruralities.

Keywords: Relational place; Place-making; Globalization; Politics of place; Practices; Connectivity; Romania

Table of Contents

Abstract ...... 5

Table of Contents ...... 6

List of Images ...... 10

List of Tables ...... 10

Acknowledgments ...... 13

1 Introduction ...... 16

1.1 Introduction: research problem and research objective ...... 16

1.1 Methods ...... 17

2 Theoretical Framework: Relational Places ...... 22

2.1 Academic Debates on Globalization and Place ...... 22

2.1.1 Globalization: time/space and networks/interaction ...... 22

2.1.2 ‘Thinking space relationally’ ...... 23

2.2 The Relational Approach to Place Applied to Rural Studies ...... 26

2.2.1 The Global Countryside ...... 26

2.2.2 Place-conflicts and Place-frames ...... 28

3 Maramureş, Romania ...... 32

3.1 Geography of Maramureş ...... 32

3.1.1 Administrative and Demographic characteristics of Maramureş ...... 32

3.1.2 Mountains and Rivers of Maramureş ...... 32

3.1.3 Maramureş: Lands and Valleys ...... 36

3.2 History of Maramureş ...... 37

3.2.1 1918 – 1930s ...... 37

3.2.2 1940 – 1945 ...... 38

3.2.3 1947 – 1989 ...... 38

3.2.4 1989 – 2012 ...... 39 7

3.3 Economy and Development ...... 39

3.3.1 The communist economy (1947 – 1989) ...... 39

3.3.2 The economy of Maramureş after the Revolution ...... 40

3.3.3 Development in Maramureş: Regional inequalities ...... 41

4 Relational place-making in Maramureş, Romania ...... 46

4.1 The Rural Idyll and the Formal Representation of Maramureş...... 46

4.1.1 The Land of Old: Tradition, Authenticity and the Absence of Modernity ...... 46

4.1.2 Rurality and Nature ...... 49

4.1.3 Romanticism and Nostalgia ...... 50

4.1.4 Conclusion: The Formal Representation reflects the Rural Idyll ...... 53

4.2 Vernacular Architecture and the Formal Representation ...... 54

4.2.1 The Wood Civilization of Maramureş ...... 54

4.2.2 Wooden Houses and their Gates...... 56

4.2.3 Wooden Churches ...... 57

4.2.4 Conclusion: The Land of Wood as a Cultural Desire ...... 61

4.3 A Conflict over the Landscape and the Formal Representation ...... 62

4.3.1 The Discursive Transformation of the Maramureş Landscape ...... 62

4.3.2 Discursive and Material Landscape Transformation: a Clash ...... 64

4.3.2 Conclusion: The Politics of Place: Conflict, Actors and Frames ...... 67

5 Cultural Heritage Protection in Maramureş ...... 73

5.1 Poienile Izei and The Pious Paraschiva Church ...... 73

5.1.1 Poienile Izei: Local Initiatives and Practices of Cultural Heritage Protection ...... 73

5.1.2 UNESCO Patrimonies and Actors ...... 76

5.1.3 From Parish Church to World Heritage: The Process of Inscription ...... 78

5.1.4 Proposals, Initiatives and Obstacles ...... 84

5.1.5 Conclusion: Practices and Perspectives...... 87

5.2 Maramureş: The Place-Conflict in Media and Politics...... 90

5.2.1 The Place-Conflict in Media and on Internet...... 90 8

5.2.2 The Ethnographic Museums of Maramureş ...... 98

5.2.3 The Program for the Protection of the Build Landscape in Maramureş ...... 102

5.2.4 Academics and Cultural Heritage Protection in Maramureş ...... 110

5.2.5 Conclusion: Place-conflict, place-frames and areanas ...... 112

5.3 Conclusion: Politics of Place and the Place-Conflict in Maramureş ...... 117

6 Migration in Maramureş ...... 124

6.1 Migration and Landscape Transformation before the Revolution ...... 124

6.1.1 From Wood to Brick: the 1950s and 1960s ...... 124

6.1.2 The Impact of Communism and Migration on Housing: the 1970s and 1980s ...... 127

6.1.3 Conclusion: Migration and Landscape Transformation ...... 133

6.2 Migration and Landscape Transformation after the Revolution ...... 134

6.2.1 The First Years After the Revolution: the 1990s Until the mid-2000s ...... 134

6.2.2 International Migration in the late-2000s and early 2010s ...... 136

6.2.3 Conclusion: Migration and the Place-conflict: Place-frames and Arena’s ...... 139

6.3 Conclusion: Migration and the Politics of Place ...... 145

7 Tourism in Maramureş ...... 154

7.1 Tourism and Landscape Transformation in Maramureş ...... 154

7.1.1 Tourism in Poienile Izei ...... 154

7.1.2 The Wood Civilization and Tourist Attraction ...... 156

7.1.3 Tourism and Landscape Transformation: Traditionalization...... 161

7.1.4 Tourism and Landscape Transformation: Modernization ...... 166

7.1.5 Tourism and the Place-conflict: Arena’s and Place-frames ...... 169

7.2 Tourism and the Formal Representation ...... 173

7.2.1 Tourism, the Formal Representation and the Wooden Churches ...... 173

7.2.2 The New Rural Paradigm and Tourism Development in Maramureş ...... 175

7.2.3 A Transformation of Landscape Functions ...... 178

7.3 Conclusion: Tourism and the Politics of Place in Maramureş ...... 179

8 Conclusions ...... 186 9

8.1 Relational space, politics of place and landscape transformation ...... 186

8.2 Relational space and globalization ...... 188

8.3 Future directions ...... 190

Bibliography ...... 192

List of Images

Image 1: The main cities and towns of Maramureş as discussed in the thesis ...... 33 Image 2: The lands, valleys and mountains of Maramureş ...... 34 Image 3: Geography and history of Maramureş ...... 35 Image 4: Maramureş pictured by the formal representation: rural landscapes, wooden buildings and costumes ...... 48 Image 5: The rural landscape of Maramureş, with typical haystacks and farmers ploughing the land with horses ...... 51 Image 6: The eight wooden churches of Maramureş listed among UNESCO World Heritage ...... 59 Image 7: A modern and urbanizing architectural style in the landscape of Maramureş – Houses in Poienile Izei...... 65 Image 8: The church of The Holy Parasceva of Poienile Izei ...... 75 Image 9: Architecture of the Pious Paraschiva Church and the Village Museum of Poienile Izei ...... 81 Image 10: Traditional wooden houses which have been adapted ...... 92 Image 11: Traditional houses in the ethnographic museum of Baia Mare ...... 99 Image 12: Landscape transformation and modernization: larger houses, smaller distances to roads ...... 104 Image 13: Examples from the catalogue by the Program for the Protection of the Build Landscape of Maramureş, with traditional houses adapted according to strict architectural rules ...... 106 Image 14: Examples from the catalogue by the Program for the Protection of the Build Landscape of Maramureş, with houses in a neo-vernacular style ...... 107 Image 15: Neo-traditional styles of architecture; the style of first brick houses; and ‘fake’ attics in roofs...... 126 Image 16: The style of architecture typical for the 1970s ...... 129 Image 17: The style of architecture typical for the 1980s ...... 131 Image 18: Examples of modernized houses and of new houses of the late-2000s and early 2010s . 138 Image 19: This is not Maramureş ...... 149 Image 20: Traditional houses used by the tourism industry to lodge tourists in Poienile Izei and Botiza ...... 160 Image 21: Examples of traditional houses used by the tourism industry for the purpose of showing them to tourists and traditional houses owned by locals or tourists for the purpose of leisure ...... 162 11

Image 22: The tourism landscape of Maramureş: gates in front of houses compared to modern gates in front of guesthouses; a ‘mushroom’ ...... 164 Image 23: New constructions built after traditional styles and construction techniques in monestaries of Barsana and Sapanta, Maramures ...... 165

List of Tables

Table 1: Frames of the landscape conflict in Maramureş ...... 68

The images in Image 3, 4 and 6 are copyright-free images downloaded from the Wikipedia Encyclopedia and fall under the Public Domain or the GNU Free Documentation License. These images may the copied and reproduced freely. When images fall in adition under the Creative Commons Attribution-Share Alike 3.0 Unported, it is obligatory to attribute the work to the author.

The images in Image 13, 14 and one image from Image 22 are downloaded from internet websites. The location of these images are attributed in the caption of the images.

All other photos in this thesis are made by the author of the thesis and may not be copied or reproduced. 12

Acknowledgments

Thank you, Peter and Dirk, for your support and encouragement during this long process of research and writing. Thank you for the many helpful comments and insightful feedback that helped me to improve the thesis. Thank you also for the many lectures and courses of both of you, that enabled and inspired me to write this thesis about globalization and relational place-making.

Dear friends in Poienile Izei, Maramureş. I stayed with you five months in 2012. I enjoyed myself very much and you learned me a lot about your community, culture, language and traditions. I enjoyed to get to know ‘sarmale’, ´tuică´, the traditional colourful costums, the weddings-Maramureş-style, the beautiful traditional music from Maramureş, and off course ‘sezatoare’! Therefore I am very grateful! Thanks, everyone, for hospitality and friendliness. I want to thank everyone who helped me with my research project; with translation, the interviews, or otherwise. Definitely, the completion of my master thesis would not have been possible without the help and support of my friends in Romania, whom I thank for their understanding and moral support. Especially, I want to thank Ileana, George and family. Thank you for making me part of your family, for supporting me, for helping me and thank you for helping me to get to know and to love life in Maramureş. And thank you Maria, for spending time with me and for making me laugh!

Dragii mei prieteni în Poineile Izei, Maramureş. Am stat cu voi cince luni în 2012. M-am bucurat eu foarte mult si ai invatat ma mult despre comunitatea ta, cultura, limba și tradițiile. M-am bucurat să cunoască sarmale, tuică, costume tradiționale colorate, nunta în stil maramureșean, frumoasa muzica traditionala din Maramureş şi de la curs sezatoare! Prin urmare, eu sunt foarte recunoscător! Mulțumiri, toată lumea, pentru ospitalitate și prietenie. Vreau sa le mulţumesc tuturor celor care m- au ajutat cu proiectul meu de cercetar; cu traducere, interviuri, sau altfel. În mod categoric, finalizarea tezei de masterat nu ar fi fost posibilă fără ajutorul şi sprijinul prieteni mea in Romania cărora îi mulţumesc pentru înţelegere şi sprijin moral. Vreau să-ți mulțumesc în special la Ileana, George şi familie. Vă mulțumim pentru luare a-mi parte din familia ta, sprijinirea mine, pentru ca ma ajuti și vă mulțumim pentru ajutorul mine să cunoască și să iubească viața în Maramureș. Și mulțumesc Maria, pentru a petrece timp cu mine și de a face ma sa rad! Cu drag, Anthonet

Best wishes, Anthonet Baijense November 2013

Chapter 1: Introduction

This chapter introduces the thesis by discussing the research problem and introducing the research objective. Besides, it is discussed how the research relates to studies done before. Furthermore, the research questions are introduced and the methodology of the case-study is discussed.

1 Introduction

1.1 Introduction: research problem and research objective

The countryside of Europe is transforming. Current phenomena of transformation include the diminishing role of agriculture in rural economic sectors, environmental degradation and landscape transformation in Europe’s mountainous areas, the increasing flow of labour migrants through the EU and increasing flows of tourists to rural destinations (Soliva, 2007; and Woods, 2007). Hence, mobility became an important characteristic of rural Europe and thereby, rural areas in the European countryside are increasingly interconnected with both other rural places and with urban centres. Such regional interconnectedness and engagement with global processes contributes to the transformation of ruralities; yet these transformations could not take place apart from the involvement of local actors and their practices, who built these very relations and interconnections between Europe’s ruralities and whose involvement leads to contested and hybridized outcomes of these processes of re-making place (Woods, 2007). The creation of knowledge on such practices and interconnectivities is thus essential for a better understanding of how the European countryside is re- made.

Although the European countryside is transformed through such practices and interconnections, this reality has hardly been reflected in social theories and studies. There exists, according to Woods and McDonagh (2011), an ‘urban bias’ resulting from world-city theory as developed by authors as Friedman and Sassen, causing a lack of attention for the rural. Therefore, Woods advocates for a new research agenda that investigates the ‘global countryside’; that is, an agenda that acknowledges that rural places are sides of globality as well and researches how exactly globalization and the rural interact and how rural places are re-made through this interaction (Woods, 2007). Besides, they argue that the urban bias is also reflected in the persisted perception that globalization penetrates the countryside as an abstract force from above, which dominates and subordinates (Woods and McDonagh, 2011). On the contrary, authors including Doreen Massey, Joseph Pierce and Michael Woods argue that globalization should rather be seen as a concrete and embedded force that proceeds by hybridization, negotiation and contestation; mediated through interconnections and embedded in practices (see for example: Massey, 2004a; Pierce et al., 2011; and Woods, 2007). Such an approach seeks to do away with structuralist notions and understandings of place and seeks to understand place in terms of interconnections, relations and practices. Hence, such an approach is essentially a relational approach to place. 17

The objective of this thesis is to illustrate such a relational perspective to place by discussing a case-study about landscape transformation in Romania and hereby to contribute to the understanding of the re-making of rural place. Meanwhile, such illustration of the re-making of place in relational terms will at the same time seek to illustrate how ruralities and globalization interact and will reveal the features of globalization as understood from a relational perspective to place.

Other authors have already contributed to this research agenda as specified by Michael Woods, like especially in the journal European Countryside (see for example the special issue with papers from the DERREG project1). Hence, while papers in this journal have contributed to this new research agenda too, this thesis aims to contribute to this agenda by adding a case from Romania, a country hardly paid attention to in empirical research and a country which is relevant for understanding European transformation and integration, due to its recent accession to the EU in 2007.

1.1 Methods

The thesis is based on a case-study performed in Poienile Izei, a village in Maramureş, Romania. Data for this project was gathered during the summer of 2012. The research question that guided this research was:

How is the landscape of Poienile Izei redefined and reconstructed in interconnectivities established by migration, tourism and cultural heritage protection?

As such, this research focussed at unravelling the relation between interconnectedness and the local rurality, taking a relational approach to the subject and explores specifically three specific dynamics of mobility: migration, tourism and cultural heritage protection. Sub-questions that were used are:

- Who are the actors that represent these practices and interconnectivities? - How do the actors of migration, tourism and cultural heritage protection enrol Poienile Izei into (new) networks and connections and what are the relations between these actors with each other? - How do practices of migration, tourism and cultural heritage protection transform the landscape? - Which place-frames do the actors have?

1 Europ. Country. 3 (2011) p.153-226 18

- How do conflicting place-frames and the transformation of the landscape result in contests over the outlook and exploitation of the landscape and where do they meet (i.e. what are the arenas of the conflict)?

The data were gathered by using a qualitative approach to research. The data set consists of primary data and secondary data. Firstly, the primary data consists of formal interviews (23 in total). These are open interviews with cultural heritage protectors (2), semi-structured interviews with guesthouse owners (6), semi-structured interviews with migrants/house-owners (14) and open interviews with construction workers (1). For each of these groups, the semi-structured interviews were based on a lists of topics that I followed loosely, so that the flow of the interview was not restricted by it, but I made sure that in all interviews the same topics were discussed so that the interviews could be compared to each other. These interviews were taken at people’s houses or offices and were recorded by taking notes. I took these interviews together with a translators to guarantee that all topics could be discussed and no questions would remain due to language difficulties – although I speak the language enough to have a conversation. However, two of the interviews I took without translator. This was one interview with a heritage protector and one of the interviews with the house owners/migrants and I extended this interview to be a key informant / expert interview as well.

Secondly, the formal interviews were complemented with many informal interviews, with heritage protectors, guesthouse owners, migrants, house-owners, construction workers, tourists, students, migrants-on-visit, authorities, etcetera. These interviews were recorded in field notes. These informal interviews were taken without translator, because my knowledge of the language is sufficient to converse with people. Initially, when I started the research, I planned to take many formal interviews and to put an accent on formal interviews over informal research methods and techniques. During the courses I followed in the research master, far most attention was paid to formal and standardised methods of research rather than to the question why and how to perform ethnographic research. Being in Maramureş, studying the lives and practices of people, because I wanted to take a relational approach to place, I realized that it is necessary to employ ethnographic methods and more informal ways of research. As such, to go out with the people on the field and to their festivals, help out with some work or to sit at the table with the tourists and join them in their conversations proved a great strategy to gain insight in the lives and stories of Maramureş. The many informal interviews and talks that I had in Maramureş helped me to gain insight in the practices that I was researching and I believe that such and ethnographic approach is a strategy that is very helpful – or even a necessary methodological strategy – in revealing the relationality of places. 19

Therefore, thirdly, and probably most importantly, the primary data became to consists of participant observation as well. By closely observing, hearing and experiencing how the people relate to migration, how they interact with their tourists, how they deal with their heritage, how they build houses, etcetera; I came to realize that this set of ethnographic methods where my methodology evolved into, revealed to me the story in a way that my original set of methods probably could never have done.

Next to my primary data, secondary data was gathered to complete the primary data and to enable further analysis of perspectives and frames. This was especially done as well to enable analysis and gain insight in the functioning of the media in the place-conflict and the construction, contents and distribution of the formal representation of Maramureş. This secondary data includes newspapers, policy documents, publications for tourism promotion, blogs, academic publications, videos, photos, and etcetera. I brought this secondary data together in a database and performed content analysis by bottom-up coding to unravel the contents of the formal representation. I did the same to unravel the place-frames: I analysed and searched the data-set (also the primary data) carefully for perspectives and frames that were contradicting with other perspectives and added new frames until ‘saturation’ was met, i.e. until the adding of new frames would lead to overlap.

Chapter 2: Theoretical Framework: Relational Places

This chapter discusses the theoretical framework of this thesis. It first introduces the academic debates on globalization and place and discusses how understandings of space have gradually moved away from structuralist approaches to space to more relational approaches. It then discusses this relational approach to place in detail and furthermore discusses how this approach can be applied to studying ruralities in the context of globalization and transformation. 22

2 Theoretical Framework: Relational Places

2.1 Academic Debates on Globalization and Place

2.1.1 Globalization: time/space and networks/interaction For long, social theories have been foremost about issues of time, but since the second half of the 20st century, human geography has increasingly paid attention to issues of space, triggered by the globalization debate (Murray, 2006). The relation between space and time under globalization was examined, and in the late 20st century the debate on globalization resulted in new conceptualizations of place and place-making. This paragraph will discuss these academic debates in more detail.

Within human geography rose increasingly the perception that globalization affects the relation between time and space. Not only became time-space geography a separate subdisciple (Murray, 2006), several authors started to publish major works about time/space that influenced how globalization was perceived. Among these authors were Donald Janelle, Anthony Giddens and David Harvey (Murray, 2006). In the early 1990s, Doreen Massey joined the debate as well, with the publication of her famous essay ‘A global sense of place’ and became one of the leading authors on the subject of space. She defines the relation between time/space as time-space compression, using a term of Harvey and defines this as ‘[it] refers to movement and communication across space, to the geographical stretching-out of social relations, and to our experience of all this’ (Massey, 1991). Moreover, she says, usually are capital and internationalization seen as the drivers of this compression of time-space and thus capitalism as central to time-space compression (Massey, 1991). Hence, by stressing the importance of capitalism, Massey clearly follows David Harvey’s understanding of time-space compression, who also stresses capitalist relations as driving factors behind this compression of time/space (Murray, 2006). But Massey’s contribution to the debate is unique in the sense that she works towards a more relational and less structural approach; she states that there are more factors that influence our sense of place – our ‘global sense of place’- like gender and race (Massey, 1991). This reflects very much the debate of the 1980s and 1990s in which such ‘gendered spaces’, ‘racialized spaces’ and ‘spaces of poverty’ gained increasing attention (Murray, 2006). Massey argues that we need to move beyond basic discussions and characterizations of globalization, as time-space compression, to come to define globalization as what it really is (Massey, 1994). That is, there needs to be acknowledgement of the spatial uneven organization of globalization (Massey, 1994). Globalization needs to be defined in terms of the ‘spatial reorganization of social relations’ and in terms of a ‘power-geometry’; while different social groups 23

are differently positioned towards processes like increased mobility (Massey, 1991 and 1994). Massey in her essay on ‘A global sense of place’ (1991) argues that when the world is imagined as a set of social relations between people, it becomes clear that the geography of these relations is under alteration: they are increasingly stretched out over space, while being full of power (Massey, 1991). Hence, this alters places, while ‘they are caught up in the reconstitution and increasing spread of those relations’ (Massey, 1994). Massey’s turn from analysing space/time in more structural terms to stressing social relations and power has formed the foundation for ‘thinking space relationally’ (Massey, 2004b: 3) instead of thinking space from a structuralist perspective.

2.1.2 ‘Thinking space relationally’ In the 1990s, academics started to rethink place due to the globalization debate and newly developed understandings, conceptualizations and increasing awareness of the transformations caused by globalization (Antonisch, 2011). Important authors in this domain include Manuel Castells, Robert Sack, Ash Amin, and Doreen Massey and later as well authors who specifically write about place theory and the rural, like Michael Woods. Massey’s response on the place-globalization debate is that place itself has not changed its character, but place is no longer the outcome of ‘internalized histories’ and ‘embedded cultures’, but of ‘interconnections with the wider world’ (Antonisch, 2011: 331). This reflects Massey’s stand in the debate on how the ‘local’ and the ‘global’ interact, were Massey advocates for a focus on networks and interconnectivities (Murray, 2006). Massey approaches places not as bounded areas but as ‘open and porous networks of social relations’ (Massey, 1994: 121). In such approach, Massey argues, places are constructed by ‘interaction’ with each other instead of through being ‘counter-positioned’ (Massey, 1994: 121). Massey’s work has been very popular and highly influential in human geography and the understanding of place as unbounded and relational has gradually developed into a paradigm (Antonisch, 2011).

Massey wants to move away from structuralism to new conceptualizations and definitions of place. Instead, she proposes and ‘extroverted’ sense of place ‘which includes a consciousness of its links with the wider world’ (Massey, 1991: 28). So, instead of structuralist approaches to place, where space/time are treated as opposites and space is regarded to be static, closed and immobile (Massey, 2005: 18), Massey advocates a relational approach to place:

‘Instead of thinking of places as areas with boundaries around, they can be imagined as articulated moments in networks of social relations.’ (Massey, 1991: 28)

Such conceptualization of place in terms of relationality instead of territoriality has several implications for how the notion of place becomes treated. In her first and famous essay on place, 24

entitled ‘A global sense of place’, Massey defines four important features of places that were the basic characteristics for the notion of place in a relational understanding of place. Firstly, places are processes, never static entities – the social relations that constitute places are open-ended, they constantly change, are re-forged, re-knitted, new relations are formed and therefore place is continually changing and re-made (Massey, 1991 and Murdoch, 2006). Secondly, places do not have boundaries in the meaning of enclosures, while flows cross boundaries constantly and there is no way of defining where places start or end, nor should places be reactionary entities with boundaries that can be used to demarcate ‘inside’ and ‘outside’ and ‘us’ and ‘them’ (Massey, 1991 and Antonisch, 2011). Thirdly, places do not have single identities, but rather multiple identities, stories and histories attached to them, although these are often repressed and conflicted about. Fourthly, places are unique: globalization is not a homogenising force, rather different places are constellations of different sets of social relations, resulting in unique interrelations and interactions and as such unique places (Massey, 1991). In Massey’s approach to place then, space is never closed, never fixed and never finished (Anderson, 2008 and Murdoch, 2006). Places are in Massey’s understanding ‘meeting places’, where the ‘social networks and movements and communications’ that stretch out from ‘household’ to the ‘international’ scales interweave and intersect (Massey, 1991: 28). Or with other words: if the world is a set of social networks, each place can be seen as a ‘particular, unique point of their intersection’ (Massey, 1991: 28). A place then derives its uniqueness and character not longer – if they ever did – from ‘some long internalised history’ but from ‘the fact that it is constructed out of a particular constellation of social relations, meeting and weaving together (…)’ (Massey, 1991: 28). In contrary to former approaches and decades of human geography, Massey thus established a trend of defining space in terms of openness, networks, connections, mobilities, flows, connections and interconnections (Antonisch, 2011 and Heley and Jones, 2012). Moreover, Massey stresses the importance of such relationality in the process of place- making: ‘space is a product of practices, trajectories, interrelations (Massey, 2004a: 5). So, human geography has seen a shift from an absolute to a relational understanding of place (Heley and Jones, 2012) in which:

Space is not [longer seen as] a ‘container’ for entities and processes; rather space is made by entities and processes. Moreover, these entities and processes combine in relations. Thus, space is made by relations. Space is relational. (Murdoch, 2006)

Hence, the consequence of the increase of relational thinking about place in recent years – not only by Massey but by all authors who followed her approach – has been that spatial analysis has become less structural and more relational: away from analysing space in terms of boundedness (territory) 25

and hierarchies (scale), towards analyses that are attentive towards mobilities, connectivities and relations (Heley and Jones, 2012: 208). So, while in the past territoriality was a dominant notion to discuss space, the relational approach to place has introduced connections, flows and networks as new notions to understand space and place-making (Jones, 2009 and Heley and Jones, 2012). Ash Amin goes even further and suggests to conceptualize space in ‘non-territorial terms’ by conceptualizing space and place no longer in hierarchical and territorial terms like local-regional- global (Murdoch, 2006: 21). Rather, he suggests to replace ‘scale’ with ‘distance’ and speak of ‘length of relation’ instead (Murdoch, 2006: 21).

Having defined and demarcated what place means, Massey wants to do away with two false binaries – the counterpositioning of space/place and of global/local. Gieryn (2000) states that it is through the attachment of place with meanings, values, objects, practices, representations and people that a place becomes different from space. By understanding space as the abstract outside of place, Gieryn (2000) is part of a wider group of academics that define place in terms of its meaningfulness. On the contrary, Doreen Massey (2004) questions this dichotomous perspective on place/space. According to her, the distinction of place and space where place is seen as real and as having meaning attached to it, while space is the abstract outside of place, is problematic. In the first place, place is not always meaningful since it is the side of conflictual negotiation and the production of difference (Massey, 2004a). Secondly, space is not less meaningful than place, since global space has concrete, everyday implications for our daily lives as well (Massey, 2004a). Therefore, place and space are both concrete, grounded, real, ‘everyday’ and ‘lived’: they cannot be positioned against each other (Massey, 2004a). This does not mean that space and place are one and the same, but rather that, although they are different, this difference lays not in equating the place-space dichotomy with the concrete-abstract dichotomy.

Secondly, according to Massey (2004), not only is the dichotomy of space/place unhelpful, in addition, the counter-positioning of local and global is as well problematic. Again, the core of the argument lays in the idea that the global is the abstract sphere ‘above’ localities. Massey (2004) argues that not only the local, but also the global is embodied, grounded and emplaced. The global cannot exist apart from the local and vis-a-versa (Massey, 2004a). ‘Global space’ is nothing more than the sum of relations, connections, embodiments and practices. The global should not be seen as ‘the omnipotent and omnipresent forces up there’, such ‘global forces’ as capitalism are embodied (Massey, 2004a) and emplaced and inherently linked to the local. Massey says that when the global is Imaged as such an abstract force, it is seen as ‘unlocated’, because it always comes from an abstract sphere rather than from concrete places (Massey 2005: 101). Similary, in such a view, places are 26

always the victims of globalization and devoid of agency (Massey 2005). Therefore, Massey argues that, on the contrary to such perspective:

‘In a relational understanding […] ‘places’ are criss-crossings in the wider power-geometries that constitute both themselves and ‘the global’. On this view local places are not simply always the victims of the global; nor are they always politically defensible redoubts against the global.’ (Massey, 2005: 101)

Therefore, it is too simplistic to see the local as the product of the global; local place as the victim of the global; and place as lacking agency. Places are not just victims; they are also defenders and even offenders. So, in Massey’s relational understanding, the global and the local construct each other and this will result in heterogeneous outcomes and different places (Massey, 2005 and Woods and McDonagh, 2011).

2.2 The Relational Approach to Place Applied to Rural Studies

2.2.1 The Global Countryside Over the years, Massey’s new conceptualizations and notions of place have gradually grown into a new approach and paradigm to place: the relational approach to place. Recently, this approach has also been applied in rural studies to study rural transformations and place-making in ruralities. This paragraph examines what consequences the applications of such a relational approach to place has for studying rural transformation and globalization.

As discussed before, this relational perspective to place was developed as reaction on structuralist approaches to place, but as well to social constructivist approaches, which tend to over- prioritise discursive aspects of place (Woods and McDonagh, 2011). Hence, some authors have argued that materiality, representation and imagination should not be separate approaches to place, but should rather be regarded as interconnected elements of spatiality, like Halfacree (2006) who builds on work of Lefebre. Halfacree developed a three-fold model for connecting material and discursive aspects of the rural in order to explore the relationality of the rural and its constitution (Heley and Jones, 2012). In Halfacree’s model, it is through the everyday lives of the rural and associated practices that this connection is brought about (Heley and Jones, 2012). The rural, according to Halfacree, has three facets: rural localities, formal representations and everyday lives of the rural (Halfacree, 2006): 27

The portal of ‘rural locality’ allows us to glimpse the structural patterns produced by specific configurations of larger social and economic processes; the portal of ‘representations of the rural’ provides sight of the discursive meanings applied to the rural in relation to the wider world; and the portal of ‘everyday lives of the rural’ illuminates the routine enactment of a relational rural by individuals whose mobility is not constrained to rural space.’ (Woods, 2011: 292)

Hence, the practices of actors, relationality and interconnectivity of the rural are central notions in this framework. Halfacree’s model reflects already what later in the relational approach to place would be a central understanding: place as the product of practices, relations and interconnections. This model of Halfacree thus offers foundation for more relational approaches to place, studying rural processes from relations, interactions and practices rather than from structures.

Michael Woods has argued to apply such a relational approach to place in research on the transformation of ruralities, while such research has gained insufficient attention, due to the ‘urban bias’ in globalization studies (Woods, 2007). Woods (2007) argues that, mainly due to global city theory, most studies tend to focus on urban issues and ignore ruralities, besides undervalue the agency of rural areas in globalization processes. Therefore, he proposes in comparison with the central concept ‘global city’ from global city theory, the introduction of the theoretical notion of the ‘global countryside’. This ‘global countryside’ refers to ‘a condition of the global interconnectivity and interdependency of rural localities’, although he acknowledges that by now, actually no rural localities can be found that might be labelled ‘global countrysides’ as some cities can be labelled ‘global cities’ (Woods, 2007: 492). Yet, according to Woods, theorizing such a global countryside should help to provide better understanding of globalization and ruralities and the hybrid reconstitution of rural place. Herefore, Woods advocates for a relational perspective to globalization and the relation between globalization and ruralities. Hereby, he – as Doreen Massey – wants to do away with the ‘myth’ facilitated by the neglect of the rural in globalization studies, that globalization is a dominating, homogenizing, abstract force, that threatens the traditions and local distinctiveness of rural places (Woods and McDonagh, 2011). Woods and McDonagh (2011: 154) argue that such perception of globalization is a myth, because to portray globalization as an abstract and dominating force from outside, means to portray globalization as a processes that ‘happens’ to ruralities, in which these places have little agency of themselves. Woods wants to do away with such a perspective by employing a relational approach to globalization and rural place. He advocates that a relational perspective to globalization and the countryside is based on these features: (1): globalization is about the restructuring of social, economic, cultural and political relations; (2) ‘rural 28

places are relational entities’; so (3) ‘globalization works by modifying the relations that constitute rural places’. (Woods and McDonagh, 2011: 154). Globalization can thus be defined in terms of social relations and interconnectedness, as with this definition of Anthony Giddens, who says that globalization is: ‘the intensification of worldwide social relations which link distant localities in such a way that local happenings are shaped by events occurring many miles away and vice versa’ (Giddens, 1990: 64). So, in a relational approach to place, globalization is all about the relations and interconnectivities between places; globalization is thus ‘intrinsically relational as it is in essence about the refashioning of relations across space’ (Woods and McDonagh, 2011: 155). Globalization in a relational perspective is about the creation of new social, economic, political and cultural relations, networks, activities and interdependencies that increasingly overcome boundaries, are stretched out over space and increasing longer distances in increasing less time (Woods and McDonagh, 2011); and is essentially about the relations and practices that create this space/time compression and the institutions that make such practices and interconnectivity possible, like modern telecommunications. Hence, in a relational perspective, globalization is embedded and emplaced in concrete practices and relations and not an abstract, un-located force operating by itself, enforcing change upon localities. Woods therefore argues that globalization proceeds not by domination, but by negotiation, contestation and hybridization, resulting in different outcomes in each different place (Woods, 2007):

The uneven geographies of globalization included differences between urban and rural areas, but also different outcomes between different rural regions, and even contested outcomes within individual rural localities between the conflicting logics of different globalization processes. Woods (2007) accordingly argues that the global countryside (…) is always a contested space, in which processes of negotiation, manipulation and hybridization are conducted through, but not contained by local micro-politics that inevitably enrol and engage local as well as non-local actors and produce outcomes that are not pre-determined” (Woods and McDonagh, 2011: 156)

It is to this micro-politics of the rural that we now turn to.

2.2.2 Place-conflicts and Place-frames With the development of a relational approach to place, Massey and other authors in this paradigm have moved away from structuralist notions towards more post-structuralist understandings of place. In such understanding, places are open and they are multiplicities, constructed out of different and multiple histories, identities and associated practices, stories and interpretations (Murdoch, 2006). Hence, places are endowed with place-identity and place-meaning and as well with struggles 29

over spatial identities and spatial practices (Murdoch, 2006). Such struggles are for example about whose spatial ‘identity’ gains priority in spatial materialization (Murdoch, 2006), or about the strategies for engagement and reacting on globalization processes (Woods, 2007). Hence, while globalization transforms place, often it goes hand in hand with contestation of place-meaning and place-identity (Woods, 2007). Or, as Woods (2007) elaborates, as through interrelations and connections between localities new ideas and values are brought in and are integrated into places and new hybrids are created; sometimes, such integrations are going smoothly and sometimes they are ‘pulling local actors in conflicting directions’ (Woods, 2007: 499).

So, place-conflicts are important mechanisms of the relational re-making of place. Such conflicts, negotiations and contestations are all part of what is called ‘the politics of place’. Within such conflicts over the meaning and purposing of place, different perceptions and understandings of place exist. These different perceptions underlie and inform the conflict at stake. The understandings of place that are shared by groups of actors in place-conflicts are conceptualized by Martin (2003) as place-frames. It is through the process of open conflict that competing frames are shared by actors and that new place identities are created (Pierce et al, 2011). Murdoch (2006) states that the outcome of such politics of place is never pre-determined by existing structures, but that place- conflicts can create a need for opening up existing situations and creating new forms of spatial identity and spatial practices.

Chapter 3: Maramureş, Romania

This chapter discusses the region Maramureş, in the North of Romania. It introduces some of the regional administrative and demographic characteristics and the geography. Besides, the chapter deals as well with the history, economy and socio-economic development of Maramureş.

3 Maramureş, Romania

3.1 Geography of Maramureş

3.1.1 Administrative and Demographic characteristics of Maramureş Maramureş is one of Romania’s forty-one counties and lies in the North-West of the country (see Image 3) (Encyclopedia Britannica, 2013). Maramureş occupies an area of 6304 km2 and its border in the North is attached to Ukraine (MCC, n.d.(a)). The regions’ neighbouring counties are Satu Mare in the West, Salaj, Cluj, Bistrița Nasaud in the South and Suceava in the East (Image 3). The capital of Maramureş is Baia Mare (Encyclopedia Britannica, 2013), the second important city is Sighetu Marmației or shorty Sighet (see Image 1 for a map of Maramureş and the most important places as used in this chapter).

The population of Maramureş counts 461.3 thousand people spread over 163.3 thousand families and 195.3 thousand houses (DJSM, 2012a). This means that the average family counts about 2.82 persons. The county has a population density of 73.2 inhabitants per km2 (Pop, 2013). Of the total population, 56,6% lives in urban areas, while 43,4% lives in smaller communities and villages (DJSM, 2012a). The administrative organization of Maramureş is as follows: 2 municipalities (Baia Mare and Sighet), 11 towns, 63 communes and 214 villages (Filip and Nicolae, n.d.). The largest cities of Maramureş are: Baia Mare, Sighet, Baia Sprie, Borşa, Târgu Lăpuş and Vişeu de Sus (DJSM, 2012). They account for 47.3% of the county’s inhabitants. In Maramureş, the following ethnicities can be found: Romanian (82,4%), Hungarian (7,5%), Ukrainian (6,8%), Roma (12,6%), German (0,3%), Ruthenians2 (0,02%) and some other ethnicities (0,07%) (DJSM, 2012a). Also the number of religions is divers, ranging from membership of the most common Romanian Orthodox Church (78,8%) to Roman-Catholic, Greece-Catholic, Reformed, Baptist and Pentecostal churches to very small other denominations and non-religious groups (DJSM, 2012a).

3.1.2 Mountains and Rivers of Maramureş Forty percent of the terrain of Maramureş is mountainous area (Filip and Nicolae, n.d.) and another thirty percent is formed by hills and plains (Filip and Nicolae, n.d.). These mountains form a part of the Carpathian Mountains, the longest and largest chain of mountains in Europe, of which 43% lays within Romanian borders (see Image 3) (Balteanu et al., 2011).

2 A Slavic, ethnic minority from Transcarpathia, living mainly in Ukraine, Poland, Romania, Austria and Slovakia 33

Image 1: The main cities and towns of Maramureş as discussed in the thesis 34

Image 2: The lands, valleys and mountains of Maramureş 35

Image 3: Geography and history of Maramureş | Image of historical regions by: Andrein 36

The Eastern Carpathians in Maramureş include the Maramureş Mountains in the North-East and the Rodna Mountains in the South-East of Maramureş (see Image 2). The Neogene volcanic group consisting of the Oas, Gutai, Varatec and Tibles Mountains closes in the Maramureş Depression by the Western and South-Western side (Dezsi et al., 2001). This volcanic group divides the Eastern part of the Maramureş from the Western part and separates the rest of the county from what is called the “Land of Maramureş”. Since the Revolution, all over Romania mountain areas are faced with problems concerning environmental change, damage to biodiversity, pollution and waste, illegal timber trade, etcetera (Balteanu et al., 2011 and Dezsi et al., 2001). Therefore, protection and preservation measures have been introduced including the creation of reservation and parks. Since 1990, in Maramureş a total of 4405.7 ha benefit from a protection status (Dezsi et al., 2001). Maramureş has one national park since 2005 - Parcul Național Munții Rodnei (Parcul Național Munții Rodnei, 2013); and one natural park, since 2004 (Balteanu et al., 2011) - Parcul Natural Munții Maramureșului (see Image 2 and 3). Parcul Natural Munții Maramureșului is a park that falls only within the borders of county Maramureş, while Parcul Național Munții Rodnei crosses the borders of three counties: Bistrița Nasaud, Maramureş and Suceava (Parcul Național Munții Rodnei, 2013).

Maramureş is not only rich in mountains; it is also crossed by about three thousand kilometres of rivers and streams (MCC, n.d.(a)). The most important river of Maramureş is the Tiza, which drains the numerous rivers and streams that flow from the Maramureş’ mountains and hills. Besides, the Tiza river marks for a part (40%) the state border with Ukraine over a distance of sixty- two kilometers (Dezsi et al., 2001). Other rivers in Maramureş which are worth to be mentioned are the Vişeului, the Izei, and the Marei rivers (Dezsi et al., 2001).

3.1.3 Maramureş: Lands and Valleys Currently, Romania’s administrative units consist of forty-one counties. But due to the country’s complex history and geography, many regions of the country have been provinces of ancient empires or have developed into distinct ethnographic zones. Hence, Romania is a patchwork of historical zones and ethnographic zones which stand entirely separated from the contemporary geographical divisions of the country, in which the borders of the counties and regions crosscut these old regions. There is a difference between the regiunile istorice (i.e. historical regions) (see Image 3) and the smaller units: țare and ținetul (i.e. lands). The so-called lands are smaller territorial units that comprise ethnographic zones with their own characteristics including music, architecture, folklore and etcetera. The contemporary county Maramureş lays in the historical region Maramureş and hosts four ethnographic zones (see Image 2): Țara Chioarului (Land of Chior), Țara Lăpușului (Land of Lapus), Țara Codrului (Land of Codru), and Țara Maramureșului (Land of Maramureş) (MCC, n.d.(b)). 37

Țara Maramureșului can further be subdivided in smaller geographical units, because of its mountains character and its many rivers. The towns and villages of the Land of Maramureş are clustered in five valleys, named after the rivers that cross them: Valea Viseului (Viseu Valley) between the Maramureş Depression and the Maramureş and Rodnei Mountains, Valea Izei (Iza Valley) in the Maramureş Depression and along the Iza River, the Valea Tisei (Tisa Valley) along the border with Ukraine, the Valea Marei (Mara Valley) and Valea Cosaului (Cosau Valley), which are often taken together, because they are both very small in their number of villages and lay very close to each other (see Image 2) (MCC, n.d.(a)).

3.2 History of Maramureş

The history of Maramureş goes back for centuries and since this region lies at the borders of Romania, it has been part of many different emperies and nation-states during both ancient ages and more recent decades. The region was under authority of Hungary many periods in history and endured several invasions of the Ottoman Empire (De Dolha si de Petrova, 1997). Maramureş became a county in 1385 and became part of the Principality of Transylvania in 1538 (UNESCO, 2013f), which became included in the Habsburg Kingdom of Hungary in 1711 (UNESCO, 2013f). This kingdom was later united with the kingdom of Austria into the Austro-Hungarian Empire.

3.2.1 1918 – 1930s The 19th century had a strong influence on Maramureş, because the Austro-Hungarian Empire brought many settlers to the region to introduce new styles and workforce to develop mining and forestry in the area so rich in natural resources (Geitner, et al., 2008). After 1918, the end of the First World War, Maramureş became part of nation-state Romania for the first time in history (Muica and Turnock, 2000). Until then, Maramureş was an area much larger than the current region. Due to the negotiations after the First World War over the division of land in Europe and the formation of new borders, Maramureş was split into a Northern and a Southern part, with the Tiza river as border (see Image 3). In 1920, following the Treaty of Trianon, the newly formed Northern part of Maramureş was split of and became under the authority of what then was Czechoslovakia (Geitner, et al., 2008). These two parts are still separated nowadays; today this Northern part lies in what became Ukraine in 1991 after the fall of the USSR. The Southern part of Maramureş remained under the authority of Romania and formed the county Maramureş, with as capital Sighetu-Marmației. This jurisdiction was smaller than the current county Maramureş, while the areas surrounding Baia Mare and the lands of Chior, Lapus and Codru were then part of county Satu Mare. These became part of county 38

Maramureş only after the Second World War, during the reforms by the communist regime (Discover Maramureş, 2013a).

3.2.2 1940 – 1945 Preceding and during the Second World War, Hungary sympathized with Nazi Germany. By creating the First and Second Vienna Awards, the Nazis attempted to gain authority over territories. As such, they used the First Vienna Award in 1938 to direct the territory of Czechoslovakia and consequently the Northern part of Maramureş under Hungarian authority. During 1940-1944, Hungary also invaded the Southern part of Maramureş after the so-called Second Vienna Award. This Award, from 30 August 1940, re-assigned territories in Northern Romania, including Southern Maramureş to Hungary (Discover Maramureş, 2013a). After the Second World War, the Northern part of Maramureş became part of the USSR and later, after the fall of the USSR in 1991, part of Ukraine. The Southern part of Maramureş became part again of Romania (Discover Maramureş, 2013a).

3.2.3 1947 – 1989 After the Second World War, Romania has had four decades of communist reign until the Revolution of 1989. The impact of the communist regime on Maramureş is rather ambiguous. Due to the remoteness of the area and absence of high party representative visits, the local authorities are said to have operated pragmatically and relatively tolerant towards local business and housing regulations (Muica and Turnock, 2000). While many regions in Romania lost their social and cultural identity due to the modernisation and systematisation policies of the communist regime (Geitner et al., 2008), the present status of the Maramureş seems to indicate that Maramureş has been relatively unharmed. Besides, some of the villages of Maramureş managed to escape collectivization of agriculture, due to the mountains landscape and the resistance of the population. On the other hand, the presence of the memorial prison in Sighetu-Marmației shows the severe impact of the communist regime on Romania and on the people of the Maramureş. The prison was used to imprison former ministers, academics, military officers, economists, journalists and politicians from all over Romania; but as well students, pupils, peasants and priest from Maramureş (Fundaţia Academia Civică, 2009). The resistance against the communist reign in Maramureş, like by the partisan peasants in the mountains, was repressed forcibly. Besides a political impact, the communist regime had a strong influence on Maramureş’ economy as well as will be discussed later. The Revolution of 1989 is an important mile stone for Romania as a whole and as well for Maramureş, although for the first time since ages, this major political change did not shift the regions’ borders.

3.2.4 1989 – 2012 Since the Revolution, Maramureş has seen a period of strong modernization. The opening of the international borders, especially to the West and the fall of the USSR in 1991 have caused an increase in international migration (Geitner, et al., 2008). Besides, since the 1990s more young people receive higher education and leave the region in search for better jobs. Economically and politically, the Revolution eventually created a crisis for the Maramureş, but since the 2000s the region is restoring and improving, encouraged by its recent accession to the European Union in 2007 (Muica and Turnock, 2000). Although the membership of the EU creates opportunities and stability for this country under development, Romania is politically still very unstable. Since 1989, left wing and right wing governments have alternated each other, resulting in permanent instability of legality and unfinished projects (Geitner, et al., 2008). In Maramureş, this instability translates itself into problems with for example the management of nature conservation (Geitner, et al., 2008 and Munteanu et al., 2008) or cultural heritage protection.

3.3 Economy and Development

3.3.1 The communist economy (1947 – 1989) For centuries, the main activities performed by the people of Maramureş had been agriculture. Shortly after the Second World War, when Romania became led by a communist government, the economy of Maramureş was brought into a series of reforms (Muica and Turnock, 2000). Although the majority of the people still remained involved in small scale agriculture, many of them started to diversify their incomes with additional sources from the newly created industries. The communist governors invested mainly in mining and the exploitation of timber (Muica and Turnock, 2000).

Mining in Maramureş centred in three areas mainly: around (1) Baia Mare, Baie Sprie and Seini; (2) around Borsa and Viseu de Sus and (3) in the Lapus Depression (Muica and Turnock, 2000). The mining of ores and salt has been of most significance for decades, but also other natural resources have been found and exploited from the Maramureş’ mountains, including oil, ceramic clay, andesite, limestone, grit stone and sand (Muica and Turnock, 2000). Maramureş is also known for its mineral waters (Muica and Turnock, 2000). For long, Maramureş was very remote and its infrastructure underdeveloped. Under communism, this was somehow improved to enhance the transportation possibilities for the mining and timber industries. Especially in the Vaser Valley and around Baie Mare and Baie Sprie, rail road connections with Sighet were developed and connected to rail roads leading to other counties and over the international border (Muica and Turnock, 2000). For areas without rail transport, a special program was designed in the 1960s to increase the quality 40

of road networks, as in the Lapus Depression (Muica and Turnock, 2000). Sighet and Viseu de Sus also developed other industries during the communist time, including food processing and textiles (Muica and Turnock, 2000). The forced collectivisation of agriculture in the 1960s, caused a boost of labour migration from the Maramureş’ villages. People started to diversify their incomes, either by migrating to the urbanizing areas of Maramureş and the locations of the mines and timber industries and many others left the Maramureş temporarily to work in agriculture or timber industries elsewhere in Romania (Muica and Turnock, 2000).

3.3.2 The economy of Maramureş after the Revolution After the Revolution in 1989, the former state owned industries were closed or were privatized and the collective farms were restored to family farms (Muica and Turnock, 2000). This had profound consequences for the economy of Maramureş. Out-migration increased, while commuting from the villages to the towns and cities in Maramureş for mining and forestry decreased and now the borders to the West were opened, international migration increased as well. From the late 1990s onwards, governors and academics started to make development proposals to stimulate the economy of the region. Central in most of these proposals was ‘rural tourism’ and ‘economic diversification’ and pilot projects were set up (Muica and Turnock, 1999). Maramureş’ peasant agriculture, attractive mountain scenery, vernacular architecture and local customs and music were said to give the region potential for rural cultural tourism (Muica and Turnock, 1999). And after about fifteen years of investments and projects, tourism has indeed become one of the important economic sectors of Maramureş. According to the formal statistical database of the Direcţia Judeţeană de Statistică Maramureş, tourist accommodations range by now from hotels, motels and guesthouses to chalets and agro-touristic guesthouses in the countryside (DJSM, 2012b). Also the range of tourist attractions in Maramureş is numerous, including the wooden churches, the wooden gates, the pottery, the tradition cuisine, the museums as the ethnographic museums of Sighet and Baia Mare and the many ethnographic and religious festivals (Rineghe, 2011). One of the main tourist attractions in the Vaser Valley is the steam train that still runs between Viseu de Sus and Paltin. Build in 1932, the rail way is still used to transport wood for the timber industry and is now also transporting tourists (MCC, n.d.(c)).

Although mining has collapsed after 1989, industry is still the largest economic sector of Maramureş. Together with the construction industry, it accounts for 32.2% of the GDP of Maramureş (Filip and Nicolae, n.d.). The other three main economic sectors are services (25.7%), transportation (22.4%) and agriculture (8.6%) (Filip and Nicolae, n.d.). Although agriculture thus contributes only for a small part to the Gross Domestic Product, in the everyday lives of many people in Maramureş, 41

agriculture is still very important. The number of small scale farms in Maramureş is still very high, especially in the rural areas and most people in the village of Maramureş depend on the produce of these farms for their daily lives. But since the production of these farms is far too low for large scale market sale, the share of the agriculture in the formal economy of Maramureş is rather low. This is also true for the absence of migration incomes in the statistics. Many people in Maramureş, again especially in the rural areas, base a large share of their incomes on money brought in via migration. Most statistics on economics and incomes indicate that people work in industry or services and although this is true to certain extent, these statistics give a somewhat distorted picture of the often diversified and puzzled together jobs and incomes of the people of Maramureş.

Although the mining industry collapsed after the Revolution, the timber industry of Maramureş is still an important sector of the region’s economy (Filip and Nicolae, n.d.). About half of all the forested land in Maramureş belongs to the government (Filip and Nicolae, n.d.). Besides the State, also private ownership of forested land is common, like of farmers who have their grassland left unused for years in order to grow trees and shrubs to use these for example for fire wood or to harvest mushrooms and berries. Besides, forestry for the exportation of timber by both private forest associations and by the National Forest Administration is still common as well (Balteanu et al., 2011). Uncontrolled exploitation and illegal cutting of timber in Maramureş causes a range of serious environmental problems, including erosion (Balteanu et al., 2011).

Mining has decreased so severely during the 1990s and early 2000s, that in the mid-2000s, mines all over Maramureş were shut down (see for example Balteanu et al., 2011 and ‘Inca un papagal’, 2012). There have been recent calls from several local and national politicians (in the beginning of 2012), including the Minister of Economics, to re-open the mines surrounding Baie Mare and to make again large investments in the mining industry in Maramureş. With these measures, the national government hopes to create job opportunities and to enhance the regional economy (‘Inca un papagal’, 2012). Politicians and mining experts claim that the mountains in Maramureş are still rich in natural resources and minerals and that these resources could provide the region with a generous source of income (‘Inca un papagal’, 2012). Not only around Baia Mare, also in the mountains surrounding the Iza Valley there have been recent test drillings (in the summer of 2012) by mining companies to test for minerals and other natural resources. Hence it is to be seen what the future role of mining in Maramureş might be.

3.3.3 Development in Maramureş: Regional inequalities The investments of the communist government in the industries of Maramureş have not only laid the foundations of its later economy, it also laid the basis for an unequal socio-territorial development. 42

As discussed before, the mining in Maramureş centred in three areas mainly: around (1) Baia Mare, Baie Sprie and Seini; (2) around Borsa and Viseu de Sus and (3) in the Lapus Depression (Muica and Turnock, 2000). Subsequently, investment and the creation of infrastructure focussed also on these regions, but due to a complex set of geopolitical and geographical factors, these investments focused primarily on Baia Mare and on the Viseu de Sus – Borsa region in the second place (Muica and Turnock, 2000). The Lapus Depression was more or less left out. More and more people from the villages started to move to these first two mining areas to find work and due to its new connections, also Sighet got a strong competitive position in the new economy. From then onwards, Baia Mare, Baie Sprie, Seini, Sighet, Viseu de Sus and Borsa managed to drew commercial development towards them and later gained urban status and a strong economic position (Muica and Turnock, 2000), maintained after the collapse of the mining industry. The other areas of Maramureş, including the Lapus Depression and connected Iza Valley, due to lack of such investments and increasing out- migration, remained predominantly rural (Muica and Turnock, 2000).

In 2009, Schvab and Stoian published a study in which they assessed the territorial disparities in Maramureş. Therefore, they divided the county in seven areas based on a development index they measured on a number of indicators. They conclude that Maramureş has four advantaged and three disadvantaged areas. The four advantaged areas lay around the large urban centres of the county, including Baia Mare, Sighet, Vişeu-Borşa and Târgu-Lăpuş; they are all well accessible due to better developed means of transportation and infrastructure; and the majority of the populations of these areas are employed in the economic sectors industry or services (Schvab and Stoian, 2009). The three disadvantaged areas are the rural areas of Maramureş and include the Iza Valley, the Northern part of the Viseu Valley and Northern part of the Maramureş Mountains, the Cosau and Mara Valley and the Western part of the Land of Codru and a small Southern part of the land of Chioar (Schvab and Stoian, 2009). According to Scvab and Stoian (2009), these areas have some strengths that they could employ in order to enhance their position, including their opportunity to create a cultural tourism industry based on assets like the UNESCO wooden churches and wooden architecture present in the area. In some parts of Iza Valley, like around Botiza and Poienile Izei, this potential seems to be utilized, while many guesthouses are present. However, other problems face the area; including a low educational level, depopulation, a low birth rate combined with population aging, a low number of wage-earners compared to a high number of people working in family farms (Schvab and Stoian, 2009). Moreover, this part of Maramureş has a very poorly developed infrastructure with only one county road crossing the Valley and no railway stations (Muica and Turnock, 2000). 43

An additional indicator for the difference in development between the urban and rural areas of Maramureş is the census of 2011 by the Direcţia Judeţeană de Statistică Maramureş. It shows data on the numbers of houses that have access to the facilities waterworks, sewerage, electricity, central heating, a kitchen in the house and a bathroom in the house (Pop, 2013). For entire Maramureş, the numbers of inhabitants that have access to these basic facilities are: waterworks (73,3%), sewerage (73,3%), electricity (95,0%), central heating (34,8), a kitchen in the house (82,2%) and a bathroom in the house (66,4%) (Pop, 2013). When split out for urban and rural areas, the differences are again remarkable. For example, in urban areas the numbers of waterworks in the house is 85,5% compared to only 55,5% in rural areas (Pop, 2013). Houses in cities have almost always (in 90,3% of all cases) a kitchen, while in rural areas this is 70,3% (Pop, 2013). For bathrooms this difference is even larger: 81,0% in urban centers versus 44,9% in rural areas, while in Baia Mare 94,9% of all people has a bathroom in the house and 95,7 % a kitchen as well (Pop, 2013). The dataset indicates that the differences in socio-economic development between the urban and rural areas of Maramureş are indeed large.

So, compared to its urban areas, the rural areas of Maramureş are seriously underdeveloped. While their urban counterparts have had a chance to improve during the last decades, the rural parts of Maramureş still lack behind due to the lack of investment and on-going remoteness of the region. Since 1998, Maramureş is part of one of the then created development regions of Romania. Together with counties Bihor, Bistriţa-Năsăud, Cluj, Satu-Mare and Sălaj, Maramureş forms development region North-West. These regions were created to connect Romanian development policy to the policies and subsidies of the EU, of which Romania became member in 2007. Rural and regional policy paradigms of the EU are ever since indeed reflected in Romanian policy documents and billboards of EU-projects have risen all over Maramureş and other counties. The EU membership of Romania is only five years young, but it already has a clear imprint on Maramureş. Another decade will be needed to see if regional development projects will indeed upgrade the socio-economic development status of the rural areas as well. 44

Chapter 4: Formal Representation & Place-Conflict

This chapter discusses how Maramureş is formally represented as Land of Old and Land of Wood and how this formal representation seeks to fulfill the cultural desires of the rural idyll. It argues that the formal representation has discursively transformed the landscape of Maramureş, but meanwhile a material transformation of the landscape has taken place as well. This causes a discrepancy and tension between the two transformation processes and a conflict over the landscape of Maramureş, in which different actors with different frames strive over the identity and materialization of the landscape.

4 Relational place-making in Maramureş, Romania

4.1 The Rural Idyll and the Formal Representation of Maramureş

Maramureş, when referred to as the ethnographic region rather than the county, is named by four most common names: (1) Țara Maramureșului, (2) Maramureșul Istoric, (3) Țara Veche and (4) Țara Lemnului. Respectively, these names mean (1) Land of Maramureş, (2) Historical Maramureş, (3) Land of Old and (4) Land of Wood. The first two names are used to distinct the historical socio- ethnographical zone of Maramureş from the current larger county, also called Maramureş. The third and fourth names are used to describe this ethnographic land according to – what are considered to be – its most defining characteristics: its age and relation to the past; and its tradition of working with wood. This paragraph will discuss in more detail how Maramureş is framed as the Land of Old in the formal representation of the region, while the next paragraph will deal with the Land of Wood, i.e. the application of wood in vernacular architecture. It will be argued that the formal representation on Maramureş reflects the rural idyll.

4.1.1 The Land of Old: Tradition, Authenticity and the Absence of Modernity Whether it is in tourism promotion websites, brochures or travel guides; or whether you check an encyclopaedia or Google Pictures: Maramureş is pictured as a rural landscape, its hilly fields filled with typical haystacks and small wooden houses (See Image 4). Also popular are the pictures of the old wooden churches, houses and monasteries; and of the people of Maramureş, either in folklore costume or on their way with their horse-drawn carts. Not only in pictures, also in videos and texts, varying from internet to newspapers and from television to YouTube, the formal representation of Maramureş is dominated by notions of rurality and tradition. As this paragraph will elaborate, Maramureş is branded over and over again as a region characterised by rurality, nature, tradition and authenticity. At the heart of all tags on Maramureş stands the regions’ famous name: Țara Veche, Land of Old. Maramureş is represented as the land that never changed, that kept its traditions, where modernity past by and where life is still the same as centuries ago. Take for example this quote form a travel guide:

‘Dismount from the horse-drawn cart and tip your chauffeur in cigarettes. You’ve found one of the last places where rural European medieval life remains intact. Where peasants live off the land as countless generations did before them. Where tiny villages, steeped in local customs and history, sit among rolling hills and dreamy landscapes. where the word ‘cappuccino’ elicits 47

a bewildered stare. Even Romanians joke that nothing has changed here for 100 years – welcome to Maramureş.’ (Kokker and Kemp, 2004: 232)

In this travel guide, tourists are told to have found one of the last places where the European Middle Ages did not yet come to an end; where agriculture equals peasantry with non-modernized methods of production; where landscapes are romantic, idyllic, filled with hills and small villages; and where life is traditional, a mere continuation of the long gone past. Although such descriptions of Maramureş are part of a spectrum, of which some are certainly more extreme and more idealistic than others – and this quote is definitely among the most idealistic ones – the characteristics attached to Maramureş by this tourist guide are more a rule than an exception in the formal representation of the region. Firstly, using the Middles Ages to characterize Maramureş is quite common, for example to describe how the region preserved the ‘traditions and lifestyle of a mediaeval peasant past’ (MCC, n.d.(d)) or to take Maramureş as the region that exemplifies how Romania stands ‘with one foot in the industrial future and the other in the Middle Ages – still true enough of Maramureş’ (Burford and Norm, 2011: 279). And next to the Middle Ages, other times periods are used express the age of the Land of Old: ‘nothing has changed her for 100 years’ (Kokker and Kemp, 2004: 232), another tourist guide even wrights: ‘little changed since Dacian times’ (Burford and Norm, 2011: 279) and a newspaper reporter noticed: I felt I’d gone back 100 years’ (Maes, 2011). So, in the experience and stories of many, Maramureş truly is the Land of Old, although not only in terms of its age but also in terms of its life style. Maramureş is associated with traditions, with old values, customs and ancient styles of living. The formal representation portrays everything about Maramureş as traditional and authentic, ranging from its architecture, costumes, food and music to its agriculture, landscapes, religion and transportation. The result of this is the image of ‘Medieval Maramureş’ (Kokker and Kemp, 2004: 232) and even in a superlative degree, Maramureş is regularly called ‘a living museum in the heart of Europe’ (Medieval Tours, 2009). Common notions that go with this ‘living museum’ tag (MCC, n.d.(e)), are the notions that describe the region as ‘living history’ (Kokker and Kemp, 2004: 232) and an ‘open-air museum’ (Ilovan, 2010) and visiting Maramureş as ‘a time-travel adventure’ (Kokker and Kemp, 2004: 232), and ‘stepping back in time’ (Maes, 2011). While open-air museums only have staged landscapes and sometimes role playing actors, Maramureş is portrayed and experienced as a real preserved landscape were real people live real lives. This perceived authenticity and tradition cause Maramureş to be represented as a ‘living museum’. Tradition, authenticity and an inherent relatedness to the past are thus characteristic for Maramureş, according to the formal representation of the region. In other words: in Maramureş, modernity is absent. The region was protected ‘effectively by a fortress of mountains’ as the Romania & Moldova travel guide (Kokker and Kemp, 2004: 232) even puts it. Or to say it with 48

Image 4: Maramureş pictured by the formal representation: rural landscapes, wooden buildings and costumes | Photo of rural landscape: by Alexandru Babos.

the words of yet another travel guide: the Land of Old is ‘Romania’s most traditional region’ (Romanian Tourist Office, 2013).

4.1.2 Rurality and Nature Maramureş is not only the land of traditions, according to the formal representation, it is foremost the land of rurality (see Image 5). A traditional past means a rural past, a society that stands in connection with its medieval customs rather than with its modern customs, is a society that is more rural than industrial. In the formal representation, this industrial side of Maramureş is as absent as modernity is and rurality is as present as tradition is. In the formal representation of the region, Maramureş breathes rurality:

‘Maramureş is considered by many to be the heart and soul of rural Romania. With its picturesque countryside of small villages, rolling hills, pastures, and meadows full of wildflowers, Maramureş epitomizes all that the rural lifestyle encompasses.’ (MCC, n.d.(e))

As in this quote, the idylls of smallness, beauty, picturesqueness, simplicity, desire and alluringness are stressed and brought to the eye when Maramureş is depicted and described. Over and over again, it is stressed how the landscape of Maramureş is one of astonishing beauty and desirability. Hence, rurality – or the rural lifestyle, as in the quote above– is used to entail the life that encompasses all of this so admired and adored beauty. And for who admires such a life: Maramureş is the place to be! What do rurality and nature in Maramureş look like according to the formal representation? Four notions are important: the concept of ‘peasantry’; the picturesqueness and beauty of the natural landscape; the absence of modernity in agricultural production and consumption; and the traditional products produced locally.

Maramureş is described as ‘the land of rural simplicity’ (Metaneira, 2007a), which managed to preserve its ancient traditions and customs. For the same reasons, others call Maramureş the ‘last peasant culture in Europe’ (Kokker and Kemp, 2004: 232). A common way to describe the rural life of Maramureş is that ‘peasants’, like many generations before them, in a traditional manner, work and live from the land. According to the formal representation, this is all done without any modern equipment: ‘which is virtually unknown to the people here, who still use hand-made tools and traditional technical installations’ (Metaneira, 2007a), because ‘ancient technology is alive and well’ (Maes, 2011). The message is repeatedly: people and their ancient, handmade tools. Modernity is nowhere to be found in Maramureş. Look around and you will see it, even the landscape tells you so: ‘the landscape of Maramureş shows clearly that it has, for all those years been worked with manpower and not with machinery’ (Juler, 2012, my translation). Besides, it is stressed that 50

consumption and the locally produced products lack any connection to modernity too. ‘You will drink milk directly from the source, you will eat fresh eggs right from the nest and fresh vegetables from the back-garden’ (Metaneira, 2007a). By far the most referred to product is tsuika, taken by many as the exemplification of the celebration of ecological food and the absence of modern production standards. It is a homemade plum brandy of over 50% alcohol, of which the ‘the men from Maramureş proudly claim that you won't find anywhere else in the whole country better "horinca" than the one that is made in their villages’ (MCC, n.d.(g)) and which is –according to a blogging visitor – ‘strong enough to burn a whole in your stomach’ and ‘too strong for people from my country’ (Kanashkevich, 2009).

Reflecting visitors also adore Maramureş: ‘The countryside is ludicrously pretty and the peasant way of life beguiling’ (Maes, 2011). So, the rurality that Maramureş is represented with has something attractive indeed and the emotions attached to ‘Maramureş’ are deep and strong, as if the region embodies and exemplifies a heavenly life out of reach for the people entangled by modernity. So it is with the landscape of Maramureş, which is represented to contradict the landscapes of modernized regions:

‘It seems that Maramureş kept all modern developments outside the door and as such, this region, which lies in the heart of the old Europe, remains an attractive and unspoiled place.’ (Juler, 2012: 179, my translation)

The formal representation focusses on the landscape of Maramureş as being an ‘attractive, unspoiled place’ (Juler, 2012: 179) with ‘spectacular mountain scenery’ (Romanian Tourist Office, 2013) where environmental problems and degradation are not present – at least not discussed in the formal representation. Maramureş is a place filled with nature, with ‘true nature’, or to put it in the words from the formal representation: ‘unspoiled nature and idyllic surroundings’ (Metaneira, 2007a). Maramureş is portrayed as the region where nature still is wild and characterized by the species that lived in Europe long times ago: ‘Maramureş is also a place with lots of nature, where bears and wolves still roaming the forests’ (Matthijs and Eveline, n.d.). The ways in which its nature and landscape are defined are part of defining Maramureş as the Land of Old and of attaching value and emotion to a region: the ‘most aesthetically stunning region of Romania’ (MCC, n.d.(a)).

4.1.3 Romanticism and Nostalgia The emotions and feelings that are attached to the Maramureş’ characterization as a land that is of old age and authenticity; that is rural, picturesque, alluring, natural, unspoiled and idyllic; might be summed up as creating senses of romanticism and nostalgia. But there is yet more to say about the 51

Image 5: The rural landscape of Maramureş, with typical haystacks and farmers ploughing the land with horses

feelings and emotions that Maramureş are said to bring up. Romanticism takes very literal forms in tags that describe Maramureş like ‘romantic Romania’ (Maes, 2011) and ‘a romantic era’ (MCC, n.d.(e)). And turning to nostalgia, means turning the stories of our childhood, which were the stories of our grandparents, about worlds and places we heard of, but never saw. The formal representation states that to go to Maramureş means to travel to a place where finally we can see these places of old for real:

The region stands as a testament to traditional; to a romantic era of simplicity, pride and moral values that many of us can only now read about or hear from our grandparents.’ (MCC, n.d.(e))

Next to Maramureş being a reminder of the grandparents’ times, the simplicity of the region is stressed often in the formal representation. Maramureş is the region of ‘simpler times and simpler lives’ (MCC, n.d.(e)), or as a visitor described it: ‘the pace of life doesn’t get much faster than the two nags giving me a lift, and the sense of getting away from it all is overpowering!’(Maes, 2011) Maramureş is a place where people rather do not turn in the ever turning carousel of modern lives, but live easy and slow lives. Here live is what it used to be before modernity started to chase mankind: much simpler. But modernity is not only about faster lives, it is also about lives that loose soul:

‘This “modernization” thing is a story I’ve seen throughout my travels around different countries. I don’t know how it ends, but I do feel that it’s very worthwhile for a photographer to capture what hasn’t been swallowed up by the so called progress. Luckily in Maramureş a little bit of magic still remains. While many of the people are living in the soulless structures, they themselves haven’t lost their souls, nor what makes them visually unique to other Europeans.’ (Kanashkevich, 2009)

In this quote and in the formal representation in general, Maramureş is perceived to contradict modernity, as argued before. Modernity is about progress and is soulless. Maramureş on the contrary, kept its magic and its soul and managed to remain a unique position in Europe. This idea that Maramureş is a magical place is a quite common way of expression in the formal representation of Maramureş. The people of Maramureş are said to have ‘magical power’ (Medieval Tours, 2009), the villages have a ‘special charm and magic’ (Metaneira, 2007a) and ‘life in Maramureş is like a mystery’ (MCC, n.d.(e)). And all these descriptions, these feelings and emotions, these charms and senses; they all add up to the formal representation of Maramureş. A Land of Old, a living museum, a rural area devoid of modernity, ‘that is at once within reach yet simultaneously beyond the grasp of the whimsical traveller’ (MCC, n.d.(e)). 53

4.1.4 Conclusion: The Formal Representation reflects the Rural Idyll As argued throughout this paragraph, the formal representation on Maramureş portrays the region as inherently connected to its past, mere as a continuation of its past, through an on-going repetition of its traditions and ways of living. This is carried out for all levels of Maramureş’ society, ranging from its economy to the ways in which the society is socially and culturally organized, so that ‘tradition’ is implied in architecture, music, clothing, agriculture, nature, landscape, transportation, religion, food, art, etcetera. The result is the idea of a region which is a Land of Old indeed, traditional in every sense of the word and in every aspect of daily life. Besides, an accent is put on the rural character of Maramureş, its idyll landscape and nature and the absence of modernity in production and consumption. Descriptions of Maramureş are full of notions of romanticism, nostalgia, idylls, authenticity and strong emotions as desire and admiring. Idylls of smallness, beauty, picturesqueness, simplicity and unspoiledness are brought to the eye when Maramureş is depicted and described. The rural lifestyle and the peasantry are idealized and adored. The formal representation on Maramureş can be summed up in the four elements distinct by David Bell (2006): nature, romanticism, authenticity and nostalgia, the four characteristics of the rural idyll. Here, in Maramureş, we have a clear example of the pastoral form of the rural idyll, the one that idealizes agricultural landscapes. As Bell (2006) says, this idyll is foremost a symbolic landscape, whereon we can project everything we have lost. Besides, it reminds us of the past, now we hasten to modernity. Indeed, the Maramureş’ landscape – as pictured in the formal representation – becomes a powerful representation of all we have lost and it represents all we dream off.

Besides, Bell (2006) also argues that the rural idyll is an exclusive and exclusionary place, resulting in binaries and binary codes, as for example rural-urban and tradition-modernity. Notions as modernity and industry are absolutely absent and repressed from the formal representation, as if this side of Maramureş does not exist. Maramureş is tradition and is rurality. The formal representation appropriates a certain frame of Maramureş by effectively excluding other representations and truths. Hence, it not only advocates, but also implicates the image that Maramureş is a living museum indeed; a place that has been fixed since ancient times, hemmed in by mountains, locked off from the outside world.

As argued, perspectives and representations on place should be viewed as standing in a range, in which some positions are more idyllist than others. While the citations in the preceding paragraph were all of a rather idyllic perspective, as the formal representation itself is fully idyllic, I found one small citation in the Maramureş Travel Guide (Metaneira, 2007a) that puts the region in another light. Rather than framing Maramureş as a region fixed since ancient times, it shows how actually 54

Maramureş knows to vitally create a hybrid of what it admires in its past and its present; and within and beyond its region’s borders:

‘The Maramureş of today is a surprising mixture of ancient and modern, of Romanians, Hungarians, Ukrainians (Rusyns) and gypsies, of religions of different denominations, of hand- woven woollen vests and high-heel sandals, of horse carts and powerful cars, of markets that sell local potatoes and imported bananas, and also of bars and terraces to enjoy a cup of coffee or a beer. In any case, the essence of Maramureş subsists: generosity, warmth and solidarity.’ (Metaneira, 2007b)

4.2 Vernacular Architecture and the Formal Representation

4.2.1 The Wood Civilization of Maramureş Maramureş is not only represented as the Land of Old, it is also named and pictured as the Land of Wood. And as much as the traditions are said to hybridize with every domain of life in Maramureş – to such an extent that it effectually creates the image of a living museum – so the so-called civilization of wood is said to be present in all spheres of Maramureş’ life. Maramureş is the Land of Wood and ‘the inhabitants of the region are already 900 years known for their woodworking’ (Juler, 2012: 178).

‘People from Maramureş have always been faithful to wood, carving it into all kinds of shapes: the plate they ate from, the shelter above their head, the church in which they prayed. Time didn't stand still and many things are made today of more modern materials. Still, where it smells like wood, people from Maramureş feel home and safe, while visitors stop in front of the old houses, gates and churches and admire them.’ (MCC, n.d.(f))

This citation illustrates three important issues. Firstly, as argued, the formal representation portrays the Land of Wood as a civilization in which wood is the basic product used to produce every aspect of daily life, ranging from kitchenware and cradles to houses, gates and churches. It creates the image of a region which is not only a living museum, it is a museum totally made of wood; from cup to pitchfork and from thumb cross to icon. Secondly, however, with regard to the Land of Wood, the formal representation seems to be less on the idyllic side of the spectrum. The formal representation acknowledges that time didn’t stand still with regard to the introduction of newer materials. But it does so rather by discussion such topics marginally than by stressing the major transformations in Maramureş. Besides, the formal representation stresses a lot the importance of ‘civilization of wood’ for the identity of Maramureş, the including the wooden churches and wooden gates and other 55

products and arts of wood; as we will see later in this paragraph. In the end, the result is that the overall image created by the formal representation is still one of an idyll: a landscape, in which traditions and wooden constructions form the bulk, rather than a modernized landscape in which some of these wooden constructions have been persevered. And as the citation indicates, the formal representation images the Maramureş’ people as a people that even prefer wood over these newer materials because they have ‘always been faithful to wood’. Or to say it differently: ‘wood has long been – and continues to be – the medium of expression in Maramureş (Romanian Tourist Office, 2013). Thirdly, as the last sentence of the citation shows, the formal representation stresses that Maramureş is a place where all these traditions and preserved monuments are still kept alive. So, rather than being just a museum, Maramureş is a living museum where visitors not only see how live in Maramureş used to be, but how it is. The formal representation stresses that traditions are kept alive and that Maramureş still is the Land of Wood and continues to express itself through wood. Hence, the old churches wooden churches are still used by the local people for church services:

‘The wooden churches are not only tourist attractions, but also places of worship for villagers that come every Sunday, dressed in their traditional clothes, to pray and pay respect.’ (Maramures Info Tourism, n.d.(a))

According to the formal representation, this close relationship between the people of Maramureş and wood is due to the fact that this relation endures for many centuries and hence, ‘wood became their best friend and companion’ (Maramures Info Tourism, n.d.(b): 1). As such, the wooden churches, houses and gates comprise an architecture, which in terms of the formal representation creates ‘an undeniable local identity’ (MCC, n.d.(f)) for Maramureş. Or to put it in other words, the architectural monuments of Maramureş are the main driver behind the ‘fame of the region’ (Metaneira, 2007a). And according to the formal representation, Maramureş is full of such wooden architecture which is both an identity maker, which makes the region renowned and famous; and an idyll creator, while it has sentiments attached as ‘lovely’, ‘marvellous’, and ‘beautiful’, like in this example:

‘Lovely traditional houses, marvelous wooden gates, famous all over the world, beautiful wooden churches, with sky-touching towers, are, for the local people, part of the everyday life.’ (Metaneira, 2007a)

Also this citations shows how the formal representation frames Maramureş as a Land of Wood, a region in which life is dominated by the human-wood relation and where people express themselves through their long-lasting interrelation with wood. This relationship is not limited to the sphere of 56

architecture (i.e. houses, gates and churches), but said to infiltrate in all spheres of life. The most often discussed wooden objects next to the architecture are the wooden road crosses and the wooden funeral graveyard crosses, like the ones in the Merry Cemetery, which is a popular tourist attraction in Săpânţa (see for example Maramures Info Tourism, n.d.(a)). Besides, there are many other wooden handicrafts, like the wood carving of plates, forks and pieces of furniture (see for example Maramures Info Tourism, n.d.(a)). All these arts of wood carving and use of wooden products in daily life are represented as pieces of the Land of Wood: a region where wood is still very important compared to modern materials and where the people express themselves through wood.

4.2.2 Wooden Houses and their Gates The wooden architecture of Maramureş is seen as a defining characteristic of the region. The villages of Maramureş are even called the region’s ‘main attraction’ because of their ‘superb wooden houses and churches and traditional way of life’ (Burford and Norm, 2011: 279). Visitors are told to expect ‘wooden houses with veranda’s and pointed roofs everywhere’ in Maramureş (Juler, 2012: 179) and ‘each village offers its share of wooden houses (Romanian Tourist Office, 2013). The formal representation mentions the wooden houses of Maramureş quite often as picturesque elements of a traditional landscape, dominated by a wooden architecture. And especially in the pictures and videos on Maramureş more than in texts, the wooden houses are strong symbols of the Land of Wood. Nonetheless, the focus of the formal representation – in travel guides, on the internet and TV, etcetera – is not so much on the wooden houses, but merely on the wooden gates and wooden churches of Maramureş. The wooden churches that are still used by the villagers for the Sunday services; and their homes that are ‘still fronted with traditional giant, ornately carved wooden gates’ (Kokker and Kemp, 2004: 232). According to the formal representation, the wooden gates are expressions of ‘local craftsmanship’ and are ‘guarding the entry to the houses’ (Romanian Tourist Office, 2013). Whenever the gates are represented, they are portrayed as large, carved wooden gates, richly filled with symbols and motifs:

‘The wooden gates were always the symbol of Maramureş villages. The themes carved in the poles of the gates, show a symbolic territory between the outer wold and the homestead, between the natural and the sacred space, and have the role to protect the house and the family: the twisted rope, the sun, the tree of life they are all an expression of the great myths in Romanian culture.’ (Maramures Info Tourism, n.d.(a))

And not only do the gates have symbols, they are symbols in the formal representation: the wooden gates symbolize Maramureş village life. Although –as will be argued later – the wooden churches are the strongest identity brand of Maramureş, the gates are certainly important symbols of the Land of 57

Wood as well, as (Romanian Tourist Office, 2013) puts it nicely: ‘the main tourist activities in Maramureş are gate-, church- and people-viewing.’ Next to the symbols they are and entail, the gates and the houses of Maramureş are, according to the formal representation, indicators of social status. The houses are said to ‘carry a social mark’ whereas they are inscribed with texts referring to their buildings, owners or years of construction (MCC, n.d.(f)). The large gates are said to be indicators of the ‘family’s status and prosperity’ (Burford and Norm, 2011: 279) or indicate that the ‘concerning peasant family belongs to the landed gentry, called ‘nemeşi’’ (Juler, 2012: 179). Thus attached to socio-economic wellbeing, the gates and houses become again symbols, now not merely as an identity marker of a region, but within a region to distinguish between its residents as well. So, in the formal representation, the architectural elements of the Land of Wood become powerful identity markers and symbols both for the region as a whole and between its residents.

4.2.3 Wooden Churches Although wooden houses and gates are unmistakable symbols of the Land of Wood and the people’s relation with wood, the wooden churches of Maramureş are its absolute number one identity marker. Maramureş is not just called the Land of Wood, according to the formal representation it is called ‘The Country of Wooden Churches’ (Maramures Info Tourism, n.d.(a)). The formal representation makes the wooden churches inherently connected to the identity of Maramureş and its people. It is due to the century long application of wood in their churches, that the people of Maramureş have such a strong relation with wood:

‘The history of the people of Maramureş is told through the wood of their churches. Along the centuries, the area's foreign rulers did not allow the people living here to build long lasting stone churches so instead, the local carpenters raised beautiful wooden churches to communicate with God. Wood became their best friend and companion. Despite many predictions to the opposite, the churches have resisted the ravages of time and still remain in this northwestern Romanian land, sustaining the local populace and amazing visitors.’ (Maramures Info Tourism, n.d.(b))

So, in the formal representation, the churches of Maramureş symbolize the history of Maramureş and comprise it as a history of resistance and opposition against change. Despite all attempts from time and people to change and modernize this land, it kept its uniqueness, its tradition, its authenticity. In the formal representation, the Land of Wood is an exemplification of a place that resisted the pressing of the waves of time towards progress. The churches symbolize a place where time passed by. They symbolize a moment in time where time has frozen into a particular architectural style, commonly referred to as ‘the Gothic style of Maramureş’ (Romanian Tourist 58

Office, 2013). The wooden churches from the Land of Wood are described as idyllic as the landscapes in which they stand, in almost lyric terms. The churches, called ‘masterpieces’ of wood work (Juler, 2012: 178), - even ‘true architectural masterpieces’ (Discover Maramureş, 2013b) – and are said to be ‘the best examples of the wood carving mastery and artistic spirit in Maramureş’ (Discover Maramureş, 2013b). The wooden churches are – according to the formal representation – ‘notable appearances in the landscape’ (Juler, 2012: 178), they are ‘crouching beneath humpbacked roofs’ (Burford and Norm, 2011: 279), they ‘rear op into fairy-tale spires’ (Burford and Norm, 2011: 279), they have ‘high steeples to be closer to God’ (Maramures Info Tourism, n.d.(a)), they are painted inside with ‘biblical scenes often juxtaposed against familiar landscapes of the village’ (Romanian Tourist Office, 2013), and some of its mural paintings are even compared to an ‘Australian Aboriginal-style’ (Kokker and Kemp, 2004: 246).

‘Hardly a village lacks its own small wooden church dating to the 17th and 18th centuries. These are exquisite, high-steepled jewels with multiple gabled roofs, all of a pattern yet each distinctly unique.’ (Romanian Tourist Office, 2013)

These ‘hand-build ancient wooden churches’ and the ongoing rituals at these churches are exemplifications of the traditions that are said to still thrive in the Land of Old. The wooden architecture and especially these old wooden churches fit the desires of the formal representation exactly: they form objects which form willing symbols for a Land of Old characterized by traditionalism; century old objects and preserved monuments; and landscape elements that create sentiments of picturesqueness, beauty, nostalgia, romanticism and unspoiledness. This is then exactly how the formal representation describes the churches of Maramureş: idyllic and as identity markers, both for its landscape and its people. Maramureş is the Land of Wood and the Land of Wooden Churches.

County Maramureş counts in total about one-hundred wooden churches, of which thirty-six in Ţara Maramureşului (MCC, n.d.(h)). The ‘uniqueness and the great value of these churches was recognized’ (Metaneira, 2007a) since eight of these churches were declared World Heritage by UNESCO in 1999 (UNESCO, 2013f). These churches are the churches from Deseşti, Bârsana, Poienile Izei, Ieud-Deal, Budeşti-Josani, Rogoz, (See Image 6). Of these eight UNESCO-churches, five are located in the Land of Maramureş Plopsiş and Şurdeşti (Deseşti, Bârsana, Poienile Izei, Ieud-Deal and Budeşti-Josani), two in the Land of Chioar (Plopsiş and Şurdeşti) and one in the Land of Lăpuş (Rogoz). In the formal representation, these eight wooden churches protected by UNESCO receive most attention. Besides, in the formal representation, all these churches are branded separately by some of the most remarkable and exciting characteristics that define and distinct them, in order to point 59

Image 6: The eight wooden churches of Maramureş listed among UNESCO World Heritage | Photos made by Tetcu Mircea Rares (Ieud Deal, Rogoz, Barsana and Budesti-Josani), Ferengra (Plopsis) and Albabos (Surdesti). 60

out how exactly they are ‘all of a pattern yet each distinctly unique’ (Romanian Tourist Office, 2013). These characterizations of the eight churches have developed into stereotypes which define the churches by some of their many characteristics. So is for example the church of Poienile Izei especially known for its frescos, which are said to be ‘one of the most beautiful and well preserved’ (Maramures Info Tourism, n.d.(b)) ones of Maramureş. Besides, the church is branded by the part of its frescoes that depicts scenes with ‘terrible punishments for sins’ (MCC, n.d.(i)) in hell: ‘Find God (or don’t) while facing fiery visions of hell at Poienile Izei church’ (Kokker and Kemp, 2004: 232). In the descriptions of the wooden church of Budeşti, over and over again the name of Pintea the Brave appears: ‘a local Robin Hood’ (Maramures Info Tourism, n.d.(b)), also called a ‘famous local outlaw’ (Discover Maramureş, 2013b) and ‘legendary outlaw’ (Metaneira, 2007a), whose chain mill can be found at the churches’ location. And the church of Bârsana is famous for the story that, when the church was replaced, the buried bodies moved with it underground to ‘allow these unfortunate souls to rest for eternity in the shadow of the church’ (Maramures Info Tourism, n.d.(b)). The church of Ieud is the church made of fir wood and the one where the Codex of Ieud was found: ‘the first document known to be written in Romanian’ (Kokker and Kemp, 2004: 246). And so has each church its unique story attached by the formal representation. Often are these stories based on local myths and legends, or on unique attributes of the church, like in case the church is proven to be the oldest of Maramureş, or has the tallest bell tower. In this way, uniqueness and authenticity are constructed, while meanwhile the churches are upgraded from isolated architectural elements to landscape elements which have values and emotions attached to them. The Land of Wood takes form in the formal representation as a land where wooden products are not only used in daily life, but also form important recognizable elements of the landscape of Maramureş in the form of its architecture. Hence, churches form a powerful symbol for the role of wood in the daily lives of people and in how wood connects them – via traditions which are kept alive – to their past. As such, he Land of Wood and the Land of Old are essentially connected. For the formal representation, the wooden churches form an important link between them. Firstly, the churches are not merely monuments, ‘but also places of worship’ (Maramures Info Tourism, n.d.(a)). Secondly, about the myths that are used by the formal representation to make the churches unique and distinct, it is said that ‘even today, many people (…) sincerely believe’ them (MCC, n.d.(j)). And as such, the formal representation states that the traditions of old are alive in the present. The Land of Old is thus a Land of Wood, where people who respect traditions exemplify this fervent love for the old days, by their keeping hold of the tradition of expressing themselves through wood. And the churches and their ongoing significance for daily life are the exemplification of how this Land of Old resists modernity and times and kept on to its uniqueness and singularity. 61

4.2.4 Conclusion: The Land of Wood as a Cultural Desire This paragraph has argued that there is an inherent connection between the Land of Old and the Land of Wood. The Land of Old and the Land of Wood come together: Maramureş has it all. According to the formal representation, Maramureş has kept its traditions alive as if the region lies before us as a living museum. This museum is a museum of wood, while the people of Maramureş express themselves through wood in all spheres of live. Hence, the wooden architecture is most stressed by the formal representation as the identity marker of Maramureş. Wooden houses, gates and foremost the churches are the symbols of Maramureş’ identity.

This presence of this type of vernacular architecture adds to the idyll, adds to the emotion, to the feelings of nostalgia, romanticism, unspoiledness, beauty and picturesqueness of the Maramureş’ landscape. That these houses, gates and especially churches are made of wood rather than of stone, gives them something special, it adds to the magic of Maramureş. It is like ‘the cherry on the cake’, just another dimension to the rural idyll, which makes it possible to create this formal representation of the ‘living-museum-Maramureş’.

When John Urry discusses the social construction of landscapes, he introduces the notion of cultural desires (Urry, 1995). He does so to explain why people ‘desire’ certain landscapes or want to visit certain landscapes, because, as he argues, such desire are anything but ‘natural’. As argued before, the landscape of Maramureş is a landscape which is formally represented as a landscape of desire and alluringness. Such landscapes are socially constructed to be so, as Bell (2006) argues with his conceptualization of the rural idyll too. Urry (1995) argues that the development of cultural desires for certain landscapes may depend on a range of factors, including landscapes which become desired because: 1) they are not widely available; 2) they contain certain ‘countryside aesthetics’, like particular styles of vernacular architecture; 3) they offer certain types of culturally desired types of leisure; 4) or they are ‘proper’ expressions of a ‘landscape’.

Firstly, the landscape of Maramureş, as presented by the formal representation, is certainly not widely available. It is a ‘uniquely preserved’ landscape, which is said to be the last region of Europe where live is remained untouched by time. Its uniqueness and rarity form the first characteristic for its constructed desirability. Secondly, ‘cultural desires’ are based on ‘countryside aesthetics’, which are preferences of certain social groups for certain style of e.g. vernacular architecture or for certain styles of countryside. Maramureş is represented to have both of these: a rural countryside, which is at the same time rich of a special, wooden vernacular architecture. Thirdly, together with certain aesthetics, certain social groups also desire certain styles of leisure. Cultural tourism as in Maramureş, for which main purpose the formal representation brands the 62

landscape and region in general as Land of Old and Land of Wood, is a good example of such a specific style of leisure. Finally, landscapes can be desired because they are ‘true’ expressions of ‘landscapes’, that is:

‘the rural ‘landscape’ is normally devoid of farm machinery, workers, telegraph wires, electricity pylons, motorways, derelict land, polluted waters and, we may add, nuclear power installations and other tourists’ (Urry, 1996: 214)

This is exactly how the landscape of Maramureş is represented by the formal representation of Maramureş: as a true landscape, devoid of the signs of modernization, traditional, unpolluted and unspoiled.

So, the formal representation of Maramureş not only comprises the rural idyll, but it evokes as well cultural desire for this particular landscape and frames it and puts forward a corresponding social construction of the landscape. Certainly not every social group will feel attracted to the Maramureş landscape, since different groups have different desires (also) for landscapes. But only for who does, the formal representation seeks to target at the cultural desires inspiring these social groups by framing and idealizing the landscape, via attaching values and emotions to the landscape and its elements. As such the landscape becomes socially constructed and reconstructed as the Land of Old and the Land of Wood.

4.3 A Conflict over the Landscape and the Formal Representation

4.3.1 The Discursive Transformation of the Maramureş Landscape The formal representation of Maramureş started somehow since the 1970s. This was the decade when the first official tourist promotion of Maramureş started by the authorities. From the 1970s onward, tourism promotion has played a very important role in the formal representation of Maramureş via the branding of the region and creation of the identity of Maramureş. After the Revolution in 1989 and the opening of the borders, international tourism increased and subsequently the incentive to promote and brand the region.

Also starting in the 1970s was the writing and publication of the first of many books about Maramureş, like the book Maramureş by Japanese photographer Miya Kosei – who took many photo’s in Poienile Izei. His book is still famous and used by many local tourist operators to give people an impression about Maramureş. By now, through last decades, many more of such books are published, including The Colour of Hey: The Peasants of Maramureş, by H. Woods McLaughlin and K. 63

L. McLaughlin (2011); Maramureş: The Land of Wood, by Ana Barca and Dan Dinecsu (2007); and Maramureş: The Old Land, by Florin Andreescu and Valentin Hossu-Longin (2011). All of these books contributed and still contribute to the representation of Maramureş as elaborated in the preceding paragraphs, although some are more idyllic and some more on the realistic side of the spectrum.

Next to books, many other mediums are used to formally represent Maramureş. In the more recent decades, the invention of internet has boosted the publication of information on the region. Most of the texts, photos and videos to be found on internet fit into the formal representation of Maramureş as described before. So can, for example, blogs be found which are written by tourist operators, who describe Maramureş in idyllic terms to attract visitors interested in cultural tourism. But also blogs by visitors who returned home and reflect on their vacations on TravelPod, publish photos of Flickr or videos on YouTube. Next to internet, the formal representation can be found on TV, especially in Romania, where channels with folklore and ethnographic music are very popular and music clips are made in ‘authentic’ regional costumes and idyllic surroundings, with the traditional wooden houses and rural landscapes in the background. Besides, TV is used to broadcast advertisements by tourist operators or the documentaries made about ‘the peasant of Maramureş’. Also films are sometime staged in Maramureş, where the landscapes are used because of their association with backwards societies. As such, often visitors come to Maramureş to see what they saw on TV.

The formal representation of Maramureş is not only present in domains of tourism and leisure. The ideas acclaimed by this representation are very common and very widespread: the belief that Maramureş is the Land of Old and the Land of Wood is deeply rooted among many groups of actors. So is the idea that the vernacular architecture of Maramureş is a defining characteristic of the region very common among academics as well and some academics also agree that Maramureş can be seen as a living museum. Therefore, many academics also consider the vernacular architecture and rural character as regional assets and recommend the expansion of the tourism industry for the purpose of regional development. The same ideas can be found among governmental actors, especially since the process for the accession to the European Union by Romania had started and the EU policy paradigm of place-based development and regional competitiveness became integrated in Romanian policies. The formal representation can be found back also in policy documents and government publications, where Maramureş is also portrayed as a region which strengths lay in its preserved traditions and vernacular architecture, which make it suitable for tourism development.

So, the ideas from the formal representation are widespread and deeply rooted among many actors, both local and non-local. Started several decades ago, the formal representation has been 64

build up and continually found new channels to express itself. Through constant repetition and confirmation, this representation of Maramureş has been successfully transformed into a symbolic identity, which becomes stronger and more spread. The formal representation became almost like a bias: it is hard to think of Maramureş apart from its symbols, apart from the churches and the hilly fields with its haystacks. So, the landscape of Maramureş has gradually been discursively transformed towards the formal representation it is now, as the Land of Old and the Land of Wood: a living museum, idyllic, rural and abounding of tradition.

4.3.2 Discursive and Material Landscape Transformation: a Clash While Maramureş discursively more and more traditionalized since the 1970s, the landscape has underwent a modernizing transformation since the 1950s, although this is absent and rather repressed from the formal representation. Since the 1950s, traditional styles of architecture started to gradually disappear from the landscape and new styles of architecture were introduced. By now, in the late 2000s and early 2010s, hardly ten percent of all houses are traditional houses and the newest styles of architecture that are introduced are very large and very colourful houses (see Image 7 for examples of such houses). This trend creates a tension between the fact that Maramureş has more traditionalize discursively and more modernized materially since the 1970s: the discursive transformation wants to portray Maramureş as a landscape devoid of modernity and where time passed by, while the material transformation is actually driven by modernization and planted the very symbols of modernity exemplified in the landscape: a modern and urbanized architecture. This transformation of architecture will also be the focus of this paragraph and thesis, although modernization in Maramureş touches on much more than just architecture.

The discrepancy between the formal representation of Maramureş and the material transformation is also noticed by many actors, both local and non-local and subsequently reported broadly, like in newspapers and on internet, including blogs and YouTube. For some of these actors, it raises feelings of surprise, while the formal representation told them to expect a certain landscape and they find something else. Take for example this visitor to Maramureş who reflects on his visit:

The last stop was Maramureş, a region which I heard hadn’t changed much over the past couple of centuries. Perhaps it was silly to believe this, but for some reason I did or perhaps just hoped that it would be true. (…) Traditional villages of wooden houses which seem to have been built in harmony with the landscape with consideration for the surroundings are very few and far between in most of Maramureş these days. They are being knocked down, replaced with huge (and I mean huge) brick and cement structures, 65

Image 7: A modern and urbanizing architectural style in the landscape of Maramureş – Houses in Poienile Izei

which have about as much character as you might expect a concrete slab to have. (Kanashkevich, 2009)

This visitor came to visit Maramureş and saw that the formal representation is not what Maramureş in reality is. The region is not the Land of Old, the place where time stood still and neither is it the Land of Wood, where villages build in harmony with the landscape, but its house are large and of brick and cement rather than of wood (for examples of this new style of houses, see Image 7). And the idyll is far away indeed, the houses don’t have ‘much character’. This visitor was surprised, yet others are not just surprised, they rather experience feelings of aversion against the new style of architecture and react ironically. Another blogger (Mihali, 2011) describes the new architectural style – in which houses often are plastered with bright colors – with the title ‘Maramureş play cu fluor’ (i.e. ‘Maramureş play with fluor’) as a parody on the famous Maramureş’ folk song ‘Maramureş plai cu flori’(i.e. ‘Maramureş, land with flowers’). An in addition to this, he says:

‘In only a few years, due to this architecture, the region will become a ridiculous Disneyland- Maramureş.’ (Mihali, 2011; my translation)

This tension does not stand on itself; actors have motivations to be worried and unpleased with what they see. For some, including the surprised visitor, this will be the fact that the landscape of Maramureş does not correspond to their cultural desired landscape after all. For others, economic interests are at stake, while the de-idyllizing material transformation might have consequences for tourism, according to some worried actors. Blogger Ciprihan Mihali (Mihali, 2011) for example, refers to the bright colours on the new houses and ironically states that if the authorities do not quickly intervene to save heritage, Maramureş tourist operators can quickly start to organize a ‘Rainbow Tour’ for tourists. And not only the construction of new houses causes tension, also the demolition of the ‘traditional’ houses raises worry. The Cultural Department of Maramureş says in a local newspaper that rural tourism runs the risk of disappearance and states that authorities should take measures to prevent further demolishment of heritage (Dulf, 2011).

The potential threat to tourism is not the only reason why actors conflict over how the landscape of Maramureş should look like. There is a second important reason for some actors to try to persuade residents to live in less modern houses and to convince authorities to protect heritage: the ‘identity’ of the region. Take here for example the small video clip on the website of the Protection Program for Build Landscape in Maramureş3, financed by the Order of Romanian Architects. It first shows some scenes with idyllic fields, old wooden houses and folk music on the

3 The video can also be watched at YouTube: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ok68Yl8mAf4 67

background. Suddenly, some explosions, a bulldozer and some photos of modern houses in quick succession appear. In the end of the video clip the text occurs: ‘care-i Maramureş tau?’ What is your Maramureş? The idyll from the formal representation? Or the new, the modern Maramureş?

So, why actors find material landscape transformation a problem, or why they find it a problem that there is a discrepancy between the discursive and material constructions of Maramureş, depends on their interests and discursive positions. And for some actors more than for others, this discrepancy forms a problem, while for the people who appreciate and live in the modern styled houses, this new style is not so much a problem in the first place. But ranging from disappointment to calls for action and from critical blogs to concrete heritage protection programs, the tension between the discursive and material transformations clearly causes a conflict over the meaning and goals of the landscape of Maramureş. This conflict over the landscape has accelerated especially in the last five years, since in these years there has been both a strong increase in modern houses; a decrease of the number of preserved cultural heritage; and an increasing awareness of the clash between the discursive and material construction of Maramureş, by increased calls for action in media, politics and the tourism branch. The next paragraph will discuss the involved (groups of) actors in more detail, together with their discursive positions, the so-called frames. The coming chapters will further discuss the material transformation of the landscape and how this relates to these actors and frames.

4.3.2 Conclusion: The Politics of Place: Conflict, Actors and Frames The formal representation clashes with the landscape as it lays before us in Maramureş, due to the transformation of the architecture of the build landscape since the 1950s. This clash between the discursive landscape transformation and the material landscape transformation causes a conflict in Maramureş over the landscape and its materialization. This paragraph will give a brief introduction to the actors and frames of the landscape conflict in Maramureş. In the coming chapters, when the actors and dynamics behind the conflict will be discussed in detail, the frames and conflict will also be discussed in more detail.

The central crux of the conflict can be summed up with the question stated by the Program for the Protection of the Build Landscape in Maramureş: What is your Maramureş? Or with other words: the crux of the conflict is the identity of the region, as expressed and exemplified in the architecture of the build landscape. The balance between ‘traditional’ and ‘modern’ landscape elements is at the heart of the conflict and then, what is ‘traditional’ and what is ‘modern’ and what is still ‘properly of Maramureş’ and what does not anymore define ‘our identity’? Although the landscape of Maramureş has been materially reconstructed since the 1950s through several stages 68

and through several styles, the conflict merely focusses on only two architectural styles, ignoring all others. These are firstly the ‘traditional’ style of building of about 1800-1950, and secondly the most modern architectural style, build after the 2000s. So, the conflict focusses on what is called the ‘traditional houses’ and the ‘modern houses’.

The different perspectives of the actors in the conflict stand in a range and concerning the question what is your Maramureş, some perspectives stand on the side of a purely traditional Maramureş and others on the side of a strictly modern Maramureş. Yet other actors employ a perspective of rather negotiating value and of medium range, by choosing for a modern Maramureş that preserves traditional elements as well. When the different perspectives on the conflict over the landscape of Maramureş are divided into ideal types, there are in total five of such so-called frames (See Table 1). The fixation-frame is on the side of the traditional Maramureş, arguing for a material

Frame Description Fixation-frame This perspective argues for the fixation of individual or groups of landscape elements*; by either preserving or restoring them into a condition which is ‘authentic’ and ‘traditional’. It employs a narrow definition of ‘traditional’ in terms of age range and stresses the importance of protecting the regions’ ‘identity’. Preservation-frame This perspective argues for the preservation of ‘traditional’ constructions in the landscape, but employs a broader definition of ‘traditional’ and allows modifications and introduction of new architectural elements to the constructions. It wants to preserve tradition, next to providing some of the eases of modernization. Interpretation-frame This perspective argues for the application of the ‘traditional architectural style’ in new buildings and landscape elements, via the re-interpretation and re-construction of old architectural elements and styles in modern architecture. It seeks to combine the ‘old Maramureş’ identity’ with the new modern lifestyle. Modernization-frame This perspective argues that modernization of architecture and buildings is essential. Modern styles and bright colours are aesthetically desirable and larger buildings and modern building materials are necessary for a healthy and comfortable life, which fits the needs of modern people. Economic-frame This perspective is foremost a pragmatic and economic frame. It argues that the old wooden landscape elements have a monetary value over a cultural value. Selling these for reuse (elsewhere) is more valuable than preserving them for the sake of the identity of the region.

Table 1: Frames of the landscape conflict in Maramureş

* Landscape elements should be interpreted broadly; including churches, houses, barns, gates, wooden road crosses, etcetera. Mainly, the discussion focusses on residential buildings as houses and guesthouses.

construction of the landscape in the form of traditionalization. The materialization-frame and economic-frame lay on the other side of the range of perspectives on the conflict, preferring a modern Maramureş. The perspectives of negotiating, medium range are the preservation-frame and the interpretation-frame.

To speak with Keith Halfacree (2006) once more, the formal representation of Maramureş has tried to dominate what he calls both the rural locality and the everyday lives of the rural; that is the landscape and the practices of its residents herein. And although the formal representation managed to discursively reconstruct and redefine Maramureş, it did not manage to also materially reconstruct Maramureş, while the landscape has underwent a material transformation in the last decades. This discrepancy between the discursive and material reconstruction of Maramureş has caused a conflict over the landscape, in which there are five ideal type frames: fixation-frame, preservation-frame, interpretation-frame, modernization-frame and economic-frame. These frames correspondent with the perspectives and positionalities of the actors in the place-conflict. Hence, in Maramureş, the politics of place are at work: the contestedness of spatial identity and spatial practices related to the landscape of Maramureş. Hence, the actors in the place-conflict seek to influence each other’s beliefs about the landscape (spatial identity) and related practices towards the landscape (spatial practices) based on their frames and via three main arenas were they meet and act: (1) the media arena; (2) the political arena; and (3) the construction arena. Hereby, the place- relations between Maramureş and other places form important channels established and employed by the involved actors. The politics of place and the practices – including the building and exploitation of relations and interconnectivities – relevant to understand the landscape transformations and place-conflict will be elaborated extensively in the upcoming chapters. Thereby, the three domains in which the landscape is materially and discursively reconstructed and that bring forward the actors of the place-conflict will be extensively discussed: (1) cultural heritage protection; (2) migration; and (3) tourism.

Chapter 5: Cultural Heritage Protection in Maramureş

This chapter discusses the first of the three dynamics behind landscape transformation in Maramureş: cultural heritage protection. It deals respectively with the actors of heritage protection at local and at county level. The chapter starts with a discussion of Poienile Izei and the UNESCO protected Pious Paraschiva Church. It then elaborates on the place-conflict in more detail and deals with the involvement of ethnographic museums, architects and academics. 73

5 Cultural Heritage Protection in Maramureş

5.1 Poienile Izei and The Pious Paraschiva Church

5.1.1 Poienile Izei: Local Initiatives and Practices of Cultural Heritage Protection Also in Poienile Izei, the landscape is under transformation and the wooden architecture is gradually disappearing. Therefore, cultural heritage protection is suggested here as well as a strategy appropriate to protect the heritage left over. The actor that is most active here in cultural heritage protection is the local parish, headed and led by its priest, who is known for motivating all villagers to contribute to the preservation of the local identity and heritage. The main contribution of the parish to cultural heritage protection in Poienile Izei are their many actions for over already four centuries to preserve the Church of the Holy Paraschiva (see Image 8); a wooden church was built in 1604, in a style typical for old wooden churches from Maramureş. Throughout all these years, the parish has tried to keep the church in a good condition, by works of construction and maintenance and the restoration projects of the 1960s and 1990s. With the increase of tourism in the village, the parish has made possible the visitation of the church by tourists by providing facilities like guidance at the site and information brochures. Yet, the church is in need of considerable restoration projects, like to the mural paintings and the roof, but such restoration is beyond the capacity of the parish. Hence, it is hardly feasible for the parish to preserve the old wooden church on its own, while the small parish lacks the finances, the human resources and the knowledge and competences needed for such a complicated and extended series of projects. Therefore, they have sought and seek to actively build relationships and networks for cooperation and assistance by other organizations, including governments and other actors in the field of cultural heritage protection. In the late-1990s, a process of decades of lobbying had resulted in the embedding of the parish’s attempts to preserve the church into national and international networks: the church became officially included in the World Heritage List of UNESCO and became as such formally protected. Moreover, this led to the legally and formally involvement of all sorts of other organizations and institutions into the protection and preservation projects concerning the wooden church of Poienile Izei. Now, the parish seeks to use, extend and exploit its relations with both UNESCO and these representing organizations to find assistance and to make their aim of cultural heritage protection feasible.

Another important local actor next to the parish is formed by the commune government. Their concern with cultural heritage protection is most clearly reflected in policies, where is stated that the preservation of heritage and especially the traditional, wooden architecture is crucial for the 74

development of a tourism industry in the village. It is therefore that the commune government also aims to contribute to the preservation of all sorts of traditions, because they belief – as is widely believed among governmental actors – that tourism will be the most important economic sector of the future and one of the main contributors of socio-economic development of the rural communities of Maramureş. In reality however, the number of projects and actions of the commune government that are really undertaken in order to stimulate cultural heritage protection or this tourism industry is rather limited – as we will see later in this chapter in more detail. In other words, within the political domain, cultural heritage protection is often limited to the sphere of debate and policy and does hardly ever crystalize in concrete and finalized projects. Therefore, cultural heritage protection in Poienile Izei rests mainly with the parish. Nonetheless, the commune government of Poienile Izei has initiated a project aiming to contribute to both cultural heritage protection and the advancement of the tourism industry: the creation of a village museum.

Poienile Izei has a village museum vis-à-vis the wooden church. Indeed, there exists a building that has been brought in a few years ago to become a village museum (See Image 9). It is one of many projects in Maramureş concerning heritage protection – as we will see in this chapter – that run for long but are not yet crystalized, concretized and finished; while this museum is nothing more than the building and has no interior and is not open to the public. Nonetheless, the ‘village museum’ is already referred to regularly by both public and private actors, including the local government and tourist operators, as one of the sites that can be visited in Poienile Izei. The intention to create a village museum came from a former mayor and for several decades now, the collection of old ethnographic items that he collected is kept in the village school, including traditional agricultural equipment as wooden plows, meant for exposition. The parish is in possession of some valuable items including objects of cult as books, icons, crosses, censers, etcetera, which they would like to expose in a church museum, (potentially) together with the ethnographic collection. Right now, the parish has no funds available for the construction of such a museum and the fundraising project did not yet start. The museum building that is already constructed belongs to the commune government and is said to be ‘in project’. So, concerning the (combined) museum(s), it has to be seen whether this museum will ever be realized or also end as one of the projects that never came beyond the stage of proposal and intention.

Next to the wooden church and the village museum, there are no formal cultural heritage protection initiatives or projects in Poienile Izei. Hence, some local residents’ also try to save local heritage. They attempt to contribute to the preservation of traditional styled houses, whether they inherited these houses from their parents or bought them from other locals. Often, 75

Image 8: The church of The Holy Parasceva of Poienile Izei

this preservation of traditional houses is combined with some employment of activities in the tourism industry. Besides, these houses are often used for residence for the purpose of leisure rather than for the purpose of permanent residence.4 Some of them argue to do so because they want to preserve the houses for the generations to come, so they can see how their ancestors lived. Others are more motivated by showing outsiders how people from Maramureş (used to) live or want to preserve what they call ‘precious architectural jewels’, pieces of the Maramureş’ identity, which should not be utterly lost.

While The Pious Paraschiva Church is the most important project of cultural heritage protection in Poienile Izei, this chapter will deal with the church in more detail. The upcoming paragraphs will discuss in more detail the organizations concerned with the protection of the church and the process of its inscription in the World Heritage List. Besides, it will discuss the proposals and actual projects that the parish and the organizations with which it cooperates are involved in, together with the obstacles that they meet.

5.1.2 UNESCO Patrimonies and Actors There are several Romanian patrimonies included in the World Heritage List of UNESCO, ranging from natural patrimonies as its Biosphere Reserves (CNR-UNESCO, 2011a), immaterial patrimonies as the dance Calaşul and the song Doina (CNR-UNESCO, 2011b), to its cultural patrimonies as the villages with fortified churches in Transylvania, the historical center of Sighişoara and the wooden churches of Maramureş (CNR-UNESCO, 2011c)5. These eight wooden churches from Maramureş included in the World Heritage List are the following churches (CNR-UNESCO, 2011c and UNESCO, 2013f):

. Biserica Intrarea în Biserica Maicii Domnului (The Church of the Presentation of the Virgin at the Temple) in Bârsana; . Biserica Sfântul Nicolae (The Church of Saint Nicholas) in Budeşti; . Biserica Sfânta Paraschiva (The Church of the Holy Paraskeva) in Deseşti; . Biserica Naşterea Maicii Domnului (The Church of the Nativity of the Virgin) in Ieud-Deal; . Biserica Sfântul Arhanghel (The Church of the Holy Archangels) in Plopiş; . Biserica Sfânta Paraschiva (The Church of the Holy Parasceve) in Poienile Izei; . Biserica Sfântul Arhanghel (The Church of the Holy Archangels) in Rogoz; . Biserica Sfântul Arhanghel (The Church of the Holy Archangels) in Surdeşti.

4 This relation of traditional houses with tourism and leisure will be discussed in chapter 7 in more detail. 5 For a complete overview of all UNESCO World Heritage patrimony in Romania, s http://cnr- unesco.ro/ro/patrimoniu.php 77

These eight churches are not only on the World Heritage List, they are also included in the Listă Monumentelor Istorice (i.e. the List of Historical Monuments) of the Romanian ministry of Culture. In total, ninety wooden churches from Maramureş are included in this list of historical monuments (DJCCPCNM, 2008). This paragraph focusses specifically on the Church of the Holy Parsceve in the community of the case-study: Poienile Izei (see Image 8).

Since the inscription of its wooden church on the World Heritage List, UNESCO is one of the most important actors representing the domain of cultural heritage protection in Poienile Izei. Although UNESCO is actually one organization (i.e. the United Nations Educational, Scientific and Cultural Organization), it is comprised by many other organizations and actors, ranging from the local, national, regional to international scales. UNESCO functions through a complex hierarchy of representation and delegation; by involving commissions, advisory boards, NGOs, governments, etcetera. So, with respect to the Church of the Holy Parasceve, many different actors are involved on behalf of and next to UNESCO. The next paragraph will introduce these actors.

On the very local level, that is in the community Poienile Izei, these actors are the site managers and the local authorities: the Romanian Orthodox Parish and the mayor and local council of the commune. The parish is the formal owner of the church and responsible for the daily management and repair of the church and should keep the church open for the public (ICOMOS, 1999). From the local government it is expected that they support the parish in their management of the church, by making this possible both financially and by creating proper infrastructure, in order to ‘improve tourist services’, ‘highlight the property’ and ensure the churches ‘transmission to future generations’ (UNESCO, 1999a: 11). On county level, there are two important actors that are involved with the UNESCO churches on behalf of UNESCO: the Maramureş County Council and the Directia Judeteana pentru Cultura, Culte si Patrimoniul Cultural National Maramureş (shortly DJCCPCNM). DJCCPCNM is actually the county level representative of the national actor the Ministry of Culture. Both these actors are charged with the execution of the tasks delegated by the Ministry of Culture: the overall supervision of the churches, project coordination and the supporting of the parishes with financial aid necessary for the daily management and repair of the churches (ICOMOS, 1999). The daily activities of Romania as participating State Party (UNESCO, 2013a) are executed by the Comisia Naţională a Romăniei pentru UNESCO (the National Commission of Romania for UNESCO) and include the coordination, evaluation and implementation of programs related to all the aims and programs of UNESCO, not just the heritage protection sphere (CNR-UNESCO, 2011d). On the regional level actors like the European Commission are active, which are involved in projects of for example funding (ICOMOS, 1999) and exchange of professionals. On the international level, the most 78

important actors are the World Heritage Committee and the International Council on Monuments and Sites (ICOMOS). The World Heritage Committee is an assembly of all States Parties and meets once a year. It actions include final decision on which properties are included in the World Heritage List, allocation of the World Heritage Fund and examination of the state of conservation of the heritages (UNESCO, 2013c). ICOMOS is an NGO that advices the World Heritage Committee about inscription of new properties and reports and evaluates about properties included in the World Heritage List (UNESCO, 2013d).

So, UNESCO is not one actor, actually it is comprised by many actors. The higher on the hierarchy the actors are, the less directly connected they are to the parish of the Church of the Holy Paraschiva in Poienile Izei. And as much as these actors constitute, represent and advise UNESCO, they all have their own agendas, interests and perspectives as well. Hence, while this complex hierarchy is designed to work together towards the good of protection and advancing of UNESCOs aim of protecting the world heritage of Maramureş, its different representing actors have frames that differ from the frame of UNESCO as organization which fuels the landscape conflict in Maramureş – as we will see later in this chapter.

5.1.3 From Parish Church to World Heritage: The Process of Inscription The church of The Holy Parasceva from Poienile Izei has been a parish church for centuries, as one of the oldest of the still preserved wooden churches of Maramureş. Documents attest its age to 1604, but experts believe it to be even older (Pop, 2008). Although a new church is in use in Poienile Izei since 2003, the old church is still used for special holy masses, like during Eastern and funerals. For decades, the church has also been a national monument, protected formally since 1994 with the status of National Treasures under Article 1 and 2 of the 1994 Law No 11 for the Protection of Historic Monuments (ICOMOS, 1999). The processes before the State Party finally nominated the eight wooden churches from Maramureş for inscription on the World Heritage List in 1999, was a long process of about two decades of lobbying, examining, visitations, selections and decisions about the many wooden churches of Maramureş. In this process, the Church of the Holy Parasceva of Poienile Izei managed to keep the attention of the many commissions and advisory bodies. Its established fame and being known in upper class social networks are said by some to have contributed to this, likewise some of its architectural elements that fit well with UNESCO’s understanding of what the organization calls ‘outstanding universal value’ (UNESCO, 2013g), like the age of the church and the fact that it is considered one of the best preserved churches of Maramureş. Besides, some argue that the fame of the church contributed to the fact that the church attracted attention of the researching committees, a fame created by e.g. the many religious and 79

architectural studies and publications about the church; the many national and later international tourists who visited the church; the paintings of the church who are internationally famous, especially because of its depictions of hell; etcetera. The result of this process was that in 1999, ICOMOS came with an advice report to the World Heritage Committee, recommending eight wooden churches from Maramureş to be inscribed on the World Heritage List based on criterion IV (ICOMOS, 1999):

‘to be an outstanding example of a type of building, architectural or technological ensemble or landscape which illustrates (a) significant stage(s) in human history’ (UNESCO, 2013g)

State Party Romania, also referring to criterion IV, added yet another criterion to justify its nomination of the eight wooden churches of Maramureş, criterion I (ICOMOS, 1999):

‘to represent a masterpiece of human creative genius’. (UNESCO, 2013g)

The advisory report of ICOMOS reflects four main arguments for the NGO’s claim that the churches are said to be worthy of inscription on the World Heritage List. From the discussions of the individual churches and the nomination justifications becomes clear that, according to ICOMOS and the State Party, the churches are worth inscription due to their specific and unique style; a style which (1) is typical for Maramureş; (2) reflects intermixing of styles and civilizations; (3) embodies the preservation of traditional techniques; and (4) exemplifies the expertise, special techniques and artistic skills of a specific part of humanity. This is not only reflected in the choice for the criteria for selection, - new World Heritage sites must meet at least one of the ten select criteria of UNESCO – but also in the descriptions of the churches in the advisory report by the ICOMOS and in the nomination report, as prepared by the State Party. For example in the justifications for nomination by the State Party:

Criteria I: ‘Certain researchers stress the exceptional character of the wooden churches of Maramureş owing to their shape, construction, authenticity, equilibrium, dynamism, and atmosphere. The superlatives everyone is tempted to use at the sight of these churches are certainly not empty of meaning but express the feelings aroused by anything that is a work of art. These churches are the result of the expertise of successive generations of brilliant craftsmen and their capacity for working with an innate artistic sense. The skills of the stone cutters of Maramureş have earned them a well-deserved reputation, still recognized nowadays thanks to their contemporary creations.’ (ICOMOS, 1999: 160)

Criteria IV: ‘The wooden churches of Maramureş, nominated for inscription on the World Heritage List, are an example of the type of construction based on a Blockbau system. They are also an interpretation of the Gothic style, but using wood only, based on traditional techniques which crystallized in the 18th century and survived in this form until the present day, thus creating a model, and even a style, described as the ‘Maramureş’ manner.’ (ICOMOS, 1999: 160)

Concerning the church of The Holy Parasceva specifically, ICOMOS notes that this church is so special and worth to be one of the eight World Heritage churches, because of its old age and because it reflects two stages of development of building wooden churches (ICOMOS, 1999). The first part of the church has an altar based on a square plan, which is an architectural style typical only for the very oldest wooden churches. Later, in the 18th century, the church was enlarged and painted on the inside with mural paintings in 1794 (ICOMOS, 1999). Later, after the 19th century, the church was adapted by reconstructions to its entrance and in the 20th century to the gallery (ICOMOS, 1999). This building in several stages is typical for all UNESCO churches in Maramureş and one of the reasons for their final inclusion in the World Heritage List, like this excerpt from the brief description that elaborates the decision of the world heritage committee illustrates:

‘The Maramureş wooden churches represent a selection of eight outstanding examples of different architectural solutions from different periods and areas.’ (UNESCO, 1999a: 0)

As said, a second important reason for ICOMOS to include the Church of the Holy Parascheve of Poienile Izei, is its old age (ICOMOS, 1999). The church is attested to be from 1604, while documents report it not earlier than this year, architectural elements of the church make experts believe the church to be older (Pop, 2008). The current priest of the parish, Ioan Pop, beliefs the church to be even older than 1500, because of several elements of the architectural design of the church, including the small size of the church and the fact that the altar is square-sized, while after the 1500s, the polygonal-sized altars started to appear. Besides, the wooden buildings of Maramureş are built by combining the beams in a special manner called Blockbau (see Image 9). The Church of the Holy Parascheva has a slight different style: the cheotoare dreaptă-dublă (i.e. the right double loop) style of combining the beams), which style was used before the 1500s (see Image 9). The preservation of such old churches is special, since most wooden churches of Maramureş are built after 1717, when during the last invasion of the Tartars most wooden churches in the traditional Maramureş were burned down. Only three churches in the Iza Valley were spared, the ones from Poienile Izei, Ieud and Bârsana. So, its age and unique conservation were special assets that attracted ICOMOS’ attention to the Church of the Holy Parasceva of Poienile Izei. 81

Image 9: Architecture of the Pious Paraschiva Church and the Village Museum of Poienile Izei

Next to age and the building in stages, also the environment in which a church stands was an important aspect of the evaluation and recommendation. The State Party reports about the church of Poienile Izei that its ‘slender silhouette is surrounded by a green environment, in which it fits well’ (UNESCO, 1999b: 3, my translation). And also that it is positioned on a cemetery, surrounded by grass and fruit trees, placed on a small hill (UNESCO, 1999a: 5, my translation). The concern with landscape is not limited to the environment in which the churches stand, it also focusses on the churches themselves, as the brief description that elaborates the decision of the world heritage committee illustrates, when discussing the wooden churches of Maramureş included in the World Heritage List:

‘As such, they are a particular vernacular expression of the cultural landscape of that mountainous area of northern Romania.’ (UNESCO, 1999a: 0)

From both the reports from ICOMOS and the nomination report from the State Party it becomes clear that also the mural paintings of the wooden church of Poienile Izei were a very important asset of the church for the nomination – as was generally the case for all the wooden churches that were nominated. Looking for ‘outstanding universal value’, the intactness and conservation of the interiors of the churches mattered very much in the selection process of the churches. ICOMOS notes:

‘The level of authenticity of the various properties included in the nomination is very high. The traditional maintenance and repair work on the wooden churches and the conservation principles of the Maramureş craftsmen have ensured that replacement of damaged or degraded architectural elements has respected the materials and techniques used by the original builders.’ (ICOMOS, 1999: 162)

So, the churches are said to be in the same shape and condition as they have been for centuries, due to the preservation of the craftsmanship of timber constructions and traditional techniques. Moreover, ICOMOS stresses that the well preserved interiors and paintings of the churches are testimonies and expressions of the religious lives of their communities over time:

The well preserved interior layout and decoration of the churches with their mural paintings are masterpieces of art and authentic vernacular documents for the traditional religious life of the orthodox communities over the centuries.’ (ICOMOS, 1999: 162-163)

Concerning the mural paintings of the wooden church of Poienile Izei, special attention goes to the scenes depicting the Final Judgment and the punishments in hell, for these scenes make the 83

church of Poienile Izei different from the paintings in other wooden churches. The report of the States Party says: ‘The dominant theme of the Naos is the Last Judgment, which occupies entirely the West and North walls’ (UNESCO, 1999a: 6, my translation) and continues with an in-depth description of the hellish paintings. But the interest in the painting is especially shown because the decorations reflect the intermixing of different styles and civilizations, as ICOMOS stresses in their advisory report. According to ICOMOS, the painters of the Maramureş churches were ‘traveling painters whose names are known’ and who ‘belong to post-Byzantine traditions’, but their paintings and iconography are also influenced by the traditions of the Reformation and Counter-Reformation (ICOMOS, 1999: 160-161). Besides, while the churches are the product of time, their paintings are also influenced by yet other styles, which are ‘reinterpreted in a graphic and decorative manner to create a more naïve and refreshing style of painting’, like the styles of Byzantine art Baroque and Rococo, ‘probably through the intermediary of neighbouring countries’ (ICOMOS, 1999: 161). Also the information sign outside the church discusses the intermixing of styles:

‘The mural paintings are somewhat eclectic and reveal a keen sense of the decoration. In this artistic interpretation with folk art influences, the painter combined traditional elements from the Poienile Izei area, seen in the iconography of the images with a Western perspective. This was a fresh approach for those times (…)’

So, according to ICOMOS, the painters of the churches are ‘known traveling painters’, but the painter of the Church of the Holy Parasceva of Poienile Izei is unkown, according to parish priest and expert on the churches’ history and architecture Ioan Pop (2008). However, the local tradition believes this painter to be a painter called Gheorghe from Dragomireşti, a nearby town (Pop, 2008). And whoever came up with the text for the sign outside the church believed the paintings to be influenced by folk- art and local influences rather than by far Western cultural styles. Likewise, ICOMOS believes the square-sided altar to be typical for the 16th century and not for preceding the 1500s. And there exist far more controversies about the Church of the Holy Parasceva, like the Gothic influences on the Orthodox religion, as phrased by UNESCO in its formal decision to include the eight wooden churches from Maramureş in the World Heritage List. The Orthodox parishes regard the integration of symbols like the moon in their roof-crosses not as Gothic influences, but as old Christian symbols. No matter the disagreement between actors about the church, the process of nomination was successful. During the 23th session of the World Heritage Committee in Marrakesh, Morocco, from 29 November until 4 December 1999, the Committee decided to include the eight proposed wooden churches from Maramureş in the World Heritage List, drawing the following conclusion:

‘The Committee inscribed the site on the World Heritage List on the basis of criterion (iv):

Criterion (iv): The Maramureş wooden churches are outstanding examples of vernacular religious wooden architecture resulting from the interchange of Orthodox religious traditions with Gothic influences in a specific vernacular interpretation of timber construction traditions, showing a high level of artistic maturity and craft skills.’ (UNESCO, 1999b: 16)

5.1.4 Proposals, Initiatives and Obstacles Already since the stage of nomination, the different actors involved by the Church of the Holy Parasceva have proposed and initiated a range of actions and programs to preserve and to highlight the church. To start with the advice report by ICOMOS, they recommended the State Party to create management plans for every one of the churches, since an appropriate management plan is a pre- condition for inscription on the World Heritage List (ICOMOS, 1999). And after the inscription, the State Party is obliged to create reports on the condition of the state of conservation of the World Heritage in their country, based on reports prepared by site managers and local authorities (UNESCO, 2013h). These reports are used by the World Heritage Committee to assign the World Heritage Fund, which is distributed over the properties according to endangered the property is, priority given to most threatened properties first (UNESCO, 2013e).

In its nomination report to the World Heritage Committee in 1999 (UNESCO, 1999a), State Party Romania also makes a series of recommendations under the heading ‘future management’, which are meant specifically for the local site managers and the local authorities, i.e. the commune government. The objectives set for these actors include the use of volunteers for the execution of daily activities; the creation of postcards and other promotion materials; the establishment of a special fund for maintenance and emergency work that needs to be done to the church, the money for the fund should be brought together from entrance fees, sponsoring, contributions from parish members, the selling of promotion materials, etcetera; the parish and the local authorities should start a funding process to initiate a project for the regularization of the river, in order to prevent damage to the church due to flooding; and the parish and the local authorities should start fundraising to initiate the improvement of outdoor and indoor lightening, the improvement of the paths through the cemetery and the restoration of the mural paintings (UNESCO, 1999a). The nomination report also includes a brief overview of intentions of the parish and the local authorities, a so-called ‘conservation plan’. They intend the realization of lightening in- and outside of the church; the modernization of the road towards the church and the accessibility to the church by improving the pathway through the cemetery and the steps to the church and the creation of parking (UNESCO, 1999a). Besides, they state that Poienile Izei is part of a program for rural tourism development and 85

that the community has a profound landscape value (UNESCO, 1999a). To protect this landscape, a ‘buffer zone’ is created around the church and who wants to build in this zone needs formal permission of the National Commission of Historical Monuments. Besides, they state that the parish initiated the creation of a museum for the exposition of objects which are related to the history of the church (UNESCO, 1999a). Of all these proposed initiatives, not many have seen a concrete realization. Especially the local commune authorities have been rather absent from intervening in the management and repair of the wooden church. The parish initiated some initiatives, like a restoration project and some promotion materials. Besides, the local authorities and the parish worked together to construct a village museum, but this initiative stagnated at the stage of creating the building. By now – i.e. 2012 – there is an asphalt road up to the churches, an information panel outside the church and recently the local government has created aqua-infrastructure throughout the entire village to prevent future flooding of the village. The parish has volunteers that take care of the daily management of the church, open it to visitors and are the guides. The money raised by entrance fees is used as fund for management and maintenance. Although the church has a formal buffer zone, i.e. a zone in which permits are necessary for constructions and limitations apply for constructions, these regulations are hardly ever executed in reality.

When in 2006 an expert responsible for the monitoring and evaluation of the UNESCO wooden churches visits the churches together with a representative of DJCCPCNM, their notes on the church of Poienile Izei are summary and rather positive: the church is in a good state of preservation and resisted well during the floods of that summer (Mojolic and Stroe, 2006). They suggest that the access road should still be improved and that the site on which the village museum is constructed, vis-à-vis the church, could also be used to construct parking and an to construct an information point for visitors to the wooden church (Mojolic and Stroe, 2006). But the report of DJCCPCNM of only two years later is far less positive about the condition of the church. As the nomination report of ICOMOS suggested already in 1999, this report of 2008 suggests that the mural paintings of the church need restoration, and at this time urgent intervention is needed in order to protect and preserve it. According to DJCCPCNM, the canvas layer comes off the wooden beams; the wood is damaged so that rain water comes through and damages the paintings and the canvas is porous and pulverized (DJCCPCNM, 2008). Nonetheless, the church of Poienile Izei is not among the churches that receive funds from DJCCPCNM for this necessary restoration of the mural paintings, like other wooden churches, including the churches of Cărpiniş, Orţâţa, Rogoz, Poşta, Buteasa and Sârbi. And although the authorities of the commune of Poienile Izei should, according to law also contribute to the conservation of the painting, there is also no contribution from these authorities to the funds. Until now, no efforts are made to start a project for the restoration of the mural paintings of the Church of 86

the Holy Parascheva. Since the condition of the painting – the churches at all are not even mentioned – among the list of the State of Conservation of UNESCO, it is unlikely that UNESCO as organization will contribute to the funds for restoration. So, it is not likely that the parish of Poienile Izei will be able to raise funds for an expensive project as restoration to mural paintings, despite the fact that experts state that proper conservation of a wooden church needs a full replacement of the roof each thirty-five years and an extensive program of restoration each fifty years. According to ICOMOS, there have been two restorations to the church of Poienile Izei in the last century: in the 1960s and in the 1990s. During the first restoration of 1962-63, the local parish did restoration work to the church and enlarged the gallery (ICOMOS, 1999). During the last restoration, in 1996, they restored the gallery to its original size and replaced the roof (ICOMOS, 1999). This restoration was made possible by the local parish, both financially and in terms of labour. According to the parish, this restoration was incomplete and needs to be completed, but the parish lacks the means to bear the full burden of such a large restoration project. The church brings together about 3000 lei each year6, which is used for daily management and urgent repairs. In order to make restoration and preservation possible, funds need to be made available by other representatives of UNESCO and actors involved by terms of law.

Sometimes, public or private actors develop initiatives to contribute to the preservation of the wooden churches or to increase their name and fame. It should be noted that most of efforts and initiatives are due to the local parish, which for example developed information brochures – written by the priest – to be sold to tourists at the church, to raise some extra funds. In 2008, another project was initiated by the Maramureş County Council that targeted the churches and aimed at many of the projects that were initially already proposed by ICOMOS and the State Party in the nomination stage but were never executed. The project called ‘“Circuitul bisericilor de lemn din Transilvania de Nord” (Circuit of the Wooden Churches of Northern Transilvania”) was initiated by the Maramureş County Council and recommended by the DJCCPCNM for budgeting and execution. The project includes the wooden churches of Bogdan Vodă, Budeşti, Călineşti, Ieud deal, Ieud vale, Poienile Izei, Plopiş, Şurdeşti, Remetea-Chioarului, Rozavlea, Ocna Şugatag, Săcălăşeni, Bârsana, Deseşti, Botiza and Cărpiniş (DJCCPCNM, 2008). The project aims to further include these churches in the tourism circuit (DJCCPCNM, 2008) and that hereby authorities seek to advance sustainable development (‘Parteneriat intre administratiile’, 2012). Mircea Man, who was then the president of the County Council, stated in a local newspaper that these wooden churches should be seen as ‘true symbols of regional identity’ and therefore suitable objects for investment in the development of a tourism industry (‘Parteneriat intre administratiile’, 2012, my translation). The objective of the circuit of

6 3000 RON has a value of 681,41 EUR on April 9, 2013 87

churches is, according to Mircea Man, to promote to the world the religious and traditional values that are represented by the wooden churches of Maramureş and to preserve these values, by preserving the churches which are now endangered because of their old age and start to degrade (Molnar, 2012a). The project, co-financed by the European Agricultural Fund for Rural Development and the national government, totals a budget of nineteen-million lei7 (‘Parteneriat intre administratiile’, 2012). It will be distributed over the participating churches and spent on the improvement of roads and parking (Molnar, 2012b); and for the creation of lighting and toilets on the churches’ locations (DJCCPCNM, 2012). Although the project of the Circuit of Wooden Churches of Northern Transylvania has been running for a while already, the parishes involved did not yet receive any of the money promised to them, nor seen any of the on-site infrastructural improvements. For so far, the project seems to go like many other projects that have been initiated by public and private actors concerning the churches: projects running for years, but with no concrete results.

5.1.5 Conclusion: Practices and Perspectives Usually, the parish stands mainly alone in performing its tasks of maintenance, restoration, preservation and in serving the public by keeping the church open and providing information and proper infrastructure. Hence, the parish built and builds relations with other organizations and institutions for cooperation and assistance both financially as well as in terms of providing human resources and assistance in developing policies, rules and regulations and higher-scale fame that could help to mobilize more resources and attract more visitors. The consequence of this lobbying has been inclusion in wide-stretching networks, including international relationships as with UNESCO and inclusion into all other sorts of networks and programs, like regional ones as the Circuit of Wooden Churches.

During the process of nomination and after the inscription of the Church of the Holy Parascheva on the World Heritage List, the new relations built have impacted the process of cultural heritage protection in Poienile Izei in several ways. A variety of actors became attached to what is happening to the church, that formerly were not involved at all. These might have impacted the decisions and actions concerning the church by the donations they made, but since only UNESCO as organization contributed some financial resources and all other actors contributed hardly anything, the finding of financial assistance by building relations turned out not well for the parish. The consequence and impact of the built relationships with other organizations and institutions as such was not merely financial, but lies especially in the form of the designed policies and proposed

7 19 million RON has a value of about 4.5 million EUR 88

activities, the rules and regulations assigned and the adaptation of the church to the perspective of UNESCO.

When in the decades during preceding the inscription of several wooden churches from Maramureş on the World Heritage List these parishes lobbied to gain and keep the attention of the nomination committees; the need was born for the churches to meet the standards and criteria of UNESCO. Now, in 2012, some local actors seek to adapt and renovate churches and their surroundings (CIAV, 2012) to add some more churches to the eight UNESCO protected churches in Maramureş. Likewise, the interaction of the parishes of the eight UNESCO churches of Maramureş with UNESCO has and does influenced the appearance of the churches and their surroundings.

UNESCO as organization clearly is concerned with true authenticity, i.e. the conservation of buildings in a condition which is as close to traditional and original styles as possible and thus deprived of adjustments and alterations. In case of the Maramureş churches, ICOMOS stressed for example, that work of maintenance and repair was done with respect to ‘traditional’ techniques and materials, so that the churches ‘authenticity’ was unharmed. Besides, UNESCO clearly choose for the churches that represent a certain period of time and certain styles of building, hereby fixing the definition of ‘traditional’ to a specific time period, like all other times and styles are not part of the history of Maramureş. Next to the centrality of authenticity and tradition in UNESCO’s perspective, there are some other key features of the perspective of UNESCO as organization. In the first place, the wooden churches, which define a region in the formal representation, in UNESCO’s vision should be considered world heritage. Secondly, UNESCO also gives importance to the natural surroundings and the landscape in which the churches stand, next to the buildings themselves. Therefore, rules regarding constructions in the proximity of the churches are designed, as well as instructions on the appearance of the natural environment in which the church stands. For example, the nomination file on the church of Poienile Izei makes explicit note of the rustic environment of the graveyard with fruit trees and flowers. Thirdly, heritage should be authentic and unaltered, i.e. frozen snapshots. So, UNSECO not only wants to preserve in authentic state, it brings back to authenticity what has been ‘damaged or degraded’, for example the enlarged gallery of the church of Poienile Izei that was brought back to its ‘original’ dimensions. Fourthly, in UNESCO’s view, heritage should not only be typical, but also be a-typical: not only an Orthodox church, but one with Gothic influences.

Hence, the creation of new relationships that led to the involvement of new and non-local actors has brought in new perspectives to place and as well new ways of dealing towards place: the process of nomination and inscription caused some of Maramureş’ parishes to alter their churches and construction policies. Yet, this does not mean that local parishes were forced by non-local actors 89

or processes to do so, because UNESCO was invited on their terms, not on its own – UNESCO never asked to come, but the parishes applied for nomination and adapted themselves according to UNESCO’s perspective, as to make more chance to be inscribed. Not only does the inscription of the churches as such reveal the agency of local actors, it also shows the agency of the non-human, while the architecture, the beams, the paintings and the environments have a crucial voice in the process as well. So can, for example, churches which architecture that does not reflect intermixing of Orthodox and Gothic styles obscure the inscription of a parish, while it lacks the ‘uniqueness’ and ‘outstandingness’ UNESCO is looking for.

The most important aim of the parish with building relations, networks and connections was to find financial support and assistance by the execution of management policies and rules and regulations, especially the ones suggested and introduced by UNESCO and ICOMOS after the church was inscribed on the World Heritage List. However, in reality the parish hardly found any of this assistance and cooperation, while many of the initiatives and opted projects remained in the design stages only and were never realized. This is especially true concerning the governmental actors at all levels – from local, regional to the national level - as became clear in the discussion of the proposals and initiatives. The main cause herefore is the malfunctioning of the political arena, a problem that we will come across more often in upcoming paragraphs and chapters. Heritage protectors complain that rules and regulations like the ones concerning constructions in the proximity of protected churches are hardly applied and if permits are ever checked and granted, hardly ever do officials make on-site visits to checks if constructors apply to the rules. Policy documents spell out that heritage protection is regarded important, but in prioritizing budgets, governments hardly ever find heritage a real priority. Projects as the Circuit of Wooden Churches make almost no chance of success, because such projects are always dragged along in on-going bureaucracy, discussions and political quarrels. At one moment, the project is shut down because a parish has applied for two different funds at the same time, then technical documents on construction works ‘has serious shortcomings’, then there is debate over inclusion of different churches (Lucacel, 2012). Some suggest that elections obscure the process, that there is ‘political discrimination’ based on the political colour of the municipalities of the churches and that therefore some churches are excluded (Lucacel, 2012). Anyhow, wherever the political sphere is involved, the process goes very slow and as one heritage protector said with a Romanian proverb: ‘A slow disease is a certain death’. As such, heritage protection has been up-scaled to higher scale political arenas and actors but the malfunctioning of these arenas obscures the process of heritage protection. This malfunctioning of the political arena is more and more reported about in the local media as well, - for example the local newspaper Gazet de Maramureş which wrote an article on the project of the Circuit of Wooden 90

Churches and the obstacles and malfunctioning of politics in this project (Lucacel, 2012). This importance of the media-arena will become especially clear in the coming paragraphs were the place-conflict on regional level is discussed.

Despite the fact that the parish managed to build relations and connections and drew in other actors for support and assistance in its aim of preserving cultural heritage, both concerning the wooden church and in more general terms, most initiatives and the execution of management tasks concerning the Church of the Holy Parascheva are performed by the parish. The lack of action from the political sphere is the most important reason therefore. The perspective of the parish and its members is that of preservation as well, reflected in the long history of the church in which the people have taken care of the building by works of maintenance and renovation. This has been the most important impact and outcome of the relationship the parish has built with UNESCO: the UNESCO-tag now attached to the Holy Parascheva Church attracts many visitors each year to the church, which brings in extra funds. These funds are complement for the necessary works of management and maintenance each year. Most importantly, the name of UNESCO as being attached to the church has made the church famous, giving expressing to the feelings of pride of the local people of Poienile Izei, who are very proud of their church and not less of the fact that their community brought forth a monument that has now an internationally recognized value. Besides, the inclusion of this church and seven other churches from Maramureş in the World Heritage List of UNESCO reaffirms and reconfirms the formal representation of Maramureş as the Land of Wood, with the wooden churches as its main symbol. Hence, having ‘UNESCO’ attached as a label and what might be called a ‘certificate of authenticity and originality’ to the church works almost like a marketing and branding strategy, while it increased the fame of the church considerably and attracts many tourists and visitors to these churches specifically. This role of the churches in tourism will be discussed in later chapters in more detail.

5.2 Maramureş: The Place-Conflict in Media and Politics

5.2.1 The Place-Conflict in Media and on Internet In the preceding paragraph it was elaborated that the number of actors and initiatives regarding the protection of cultural heritage in Poienile Izei are rather limited. On county level however, there are some more actors active and some initiatives – besides the UNESCO protection of the eight wooden churches – are taken which seek to influence heritage in all of Maramureş, including Poienile Izei. Moreover, if we want to understand the place-conflict over the build landscape of Maramureş in more detail, we need to look at county level as well, since this conflict is mainly a conflict that is 91

expressed by the actors of the cultural heritage protection domain that will be discussed in this paragraph and in media and on internet. This paragraph therefore will introduce the place-conflict in more detail by elaborating on its contents regarding the so-called ‘traditional houses’ and the next three paragraphs will deal with some major actors in the domain of cultural heritage protection in more detail: the ethnographic museums, the Order of Romanian Architects and academic actors.

The shared pledge of all actors participating in the domain of heritage protection is to aggregate against the proponents of the modernization-frame; that is, all residents of modern and urban styled houses. This part of the conflict will be dealt with in chapter 6, when the introduction of these houses in the landscape will be discussed in more detail. Here, the discussion will focus on another part of the conflict; that is not on the agreement, but on the disagreements amongst the actors within the domain of heritage protection and with the residents of Maramureş. This conflict is triggered by the material transformations taking place in the landscape of Maramureş, for as much as the landscape underwent the introduction of new styles; it was also transformed by the modification and exclusion of ‘traditional houses’. As discussed before, the focus within the wooden architecture of Maramureş is on houses and not on churches, since churches are regarded ‘fixated’ elements – even though this might be regarded remarkable, since even the churches’ preservation is not entirely guaranteed. The exclusion of the traditional houses from the Maramureş landscape is maybe even more pranging than the introduction of new styles, since it removes the very materialization of the idylls and identities as constructed around Maramureş in the formal representations of the region. As such, the decay, repurposing, alteration, destruction and taking out of the traditional houses from the landscape have a profound effect on Maramureş and trigger its place-conflict. Hence, the conflict and the disagreements between the actors focus on four issues mainly: (1) what is a ‘traditional’ house; (2) should you preserve a ‘traditional’ house; (3) why should you do so; and (4) how should you do so?

There exists wide disagreement on the definition of the term ‘traditional house’: what is a traditional house and what is not? Most actors share the idea that traditional houses are wooden houses with the characteristic Blockbau style of combining the beams. The proponents of the fixation-frame, like for example the ethnographic museums, employ a very narrow definition of the term ‘traditional house’. They stress that houses are only truly ‘traditional’ if they are at least over a hundred years old and are still authentic, i.e. lack any alterations and adaptations. Besides, the houses should have ‘authentic architectural elements’, like: the slope of the roof should measure a certain number of degrees; the grouping of house, sheds and gate should be according to a certain 92

Image 10: Traditional wooden houses which have been adapted

plan, as should the division of the rooms inside the house be also; etcetera (for examples of such houses, see Image 11). Other actors employ less narrow definitions of the term ‘traditional house’ and believe that houses that do have small adaptations to them, (i.e. houses that are not any more ‘authentic’ in the perspective of the fixation-frame) like an asbestos roofing are still traditional houses. Yet other actors employ even broader definitions of the term ‘traditional house’ and believe that houses that have even larger adaptations like the adding of dormers in the roof, can still be called traditional houses (for examples of such houses, see Image 10). For pragmatic reasons, I will further refer to the definition of the fixation-frame as the ‘narrow definition’ of traditional houses and to all other ways of defining traditional houses as the ‘broad definition’ of traditional houses.

Concerning the exclusion of traditional houses from the landscape, there are two characteristics of these houses that that make it easy and attractive to remove them. Firstly, they are built in such a manner that they can be easily replaced (i.e. the so-called Blockbau style of construction). Secondly, the traditional houses are constructed out of wood, a product which can be reused for multiple purposes after the house has been deconstructed. As such, either the house as a whole, or the wood as a product can be reused after the house is no longer used by its former owners for residence. Note that the reuse of wood not only applies to the wood that comes from houses, but as well from other wooden heritage objects from the Maramureş’ landscape, including barns, building’s annexes, water mills, etcetera (Blog Noau Deapta, 2009). Hence, since centuries traditional houses have been demolished and replaced by new houses, especially because wood is a perishable product and people needed to build new houses continually. But these houses were replaced by other wooden houses, although the styles off course have developed and varied over time. But it was only after the introduction of the first new brick houses in the landscape in the late 1960s that the deconstruction of traditional wooden houses became a phenomenon with disruptive impact on the landscape. Since then, the rate of traditional wooden houses in the landscape started to drop, because no more traditional wooden houses were build, while the ones that still stood in the landscape started their journey of decay, destruction and trade. Hence, the material transformation of the landscape, caused by the increasing exclusion of the traditional wooden houses from the landscape of Maramureş, clashes with the increasing importance of the wooden architecture of Maramureş due to the formal representation. Therefore, in the last few years, there has been increasing attention for this phenomenon of the destruction of the wooden houses and increasing calls for their preservation, although they have been replaced and destroyed for many centuries. When people where in need of a new house, they always used to either sell, burn or re-use the wood from their old house to build a new house. This phenomenon still continues, but now accompanied with lots of comments in media and on internet. 94

A common theme in the newspapers and blogs is that the wood civilization of Maramureş is now sold and exported as fire wood (see for example Dan, 2011 and Lucacel, 2005). As fire wood, because it is claimed to be a label only and the houses are said to be exported with differed aims. Traditional houses are said to leave the villages of Maramureş in two manners: deconstructed to be rebuild as houses or deconstructed to be used as wood. In the mid-2000s, foreign traders from all over Europe, but mainly from Italy and France (Andreica, 2012) came to Poienile Izei and to Maramureş and bought almost all traditional houses and barns which wood was of valuable condition. Besides, newspapers and blogs name companies from the Iza and Viseu Valley as mediating actors that buy the traditional houses from all over the traditional Maramureş and sell them over the border of Romania. The prices for which these old houses were sold are called ‘for nothing’ (Andreica, 2012; my translation) and ‘ridiculously low prices’ (Dan, 2011; my translation); and the corresponding prices from these newspapers are 100 EUR and 2400 RON (approximately 550 EUR). Once over the border, some of the houses are said to be reconstructed as houses again, to be used as cottages for tourism purposes in for example France (Andreica, 2012), a phenomenon that also took place in Poienile Izei, according to a local tourist operator:

‘In Poienile Izei there are hardly two traditional houses8, the rest was all sold. About six years ago, people from Italy and French came to the area and have collected all the old houses and sheds. (…) The people have sold these old wooden houses, because they were not longer used and the wood was not suitable for making fire either. Now, not many wooden houses in Poienile Izei are for sale, the people woke up, but maybe too late.’ (Andreica, 2012; my translation)

Next to the purposing of wooden houses from Maramureş for the foreign tourism industry, mediating companies are also said to turn such houses into products as parquet and semi-products, for example for flooring in Italian villas (Blog Noau Deapta, 2009), but it is also used for panelling and the renovation of antiques like furniture (Muntean, 2007). The main message of all these newspapers and blogs however is not to inform about the phenomena per se, but rather to call to action: the identity of Maramureş is under threat and the people of Maramureş are called to cancel the demolishment of their heritage. The owners of the houses are called to stop selling them and the authorities are called to start protecting the houses and to make regulations that will stop people from selling and demolishing traditional houses.

‘Taking advantage of a legal vacuum, the traditional houses from Maramureş disappear, one by one, over the border. (…) The traditional wooden houses that made Maramureş world

8 Traditional houses is here defined in the narrow definition of the term. 95

famous among tourists are decreasing with alarming numbers. Naïve, not knowing their real value, villagers sell them at the price of firewood and opportunists get rich from a business which is located on the edge of legality.’ (Lucacel, 2005; my translation)

This quote from newspaper Gazeta de Maramureş illustrates a number of important aspects of the place-conflict concerning the disappearance of traditional wooden houses. Firstly, there exists a discussion on whether or not there exist rules and regulations that prohibit the deconstruction of these houses and concerning the role of the authorities and measures they should take to prevent the demolishment of heritage. And secondly, there is difference of opinion about the ‘value’ of the houses and whether or not the houses should be preserved or – as the economic-frame suggests, their economic value is more important than their cultural value. In the first place, there is a discussion going on whether or not the phenomenon of trading in these wooden houses is illegal. Lucacel (2005) for example says it is, because deconstructing houses without demolition permit is against the law. But in another newspaper, a mayor states that the authorities cannot do anything because most old wooden houses do not exist on paper because they were never registered and as such do not need permission for demolition (Dan, 2011a). Yet other heritage protectors react that such reaction of authorities are mere laziness and that they can do something if they would want to do something. The blogger of Blog Noua Dreapta (2009) states that the trading in wooden houses is not illegal at all but just a ‘very serious problem’, because it ‘directly affects the national cultural heritage’. And the county authorities of DJCCPCNM, represented by their president Ioan Marchis, state that they cannot do anything because the houses are not formally monuments and can as such not protected. On the suggestion of some actors in the domain of heritage protection to make also traditional houses monuments, and not only churches, the authorities react that this is impossible because only entire villages can receive a monument status and such well-preserved villages do not longer exist in Maramureş (see for example Blog Noua Dreapta, 2009 and Ivanciuc, 2012). Very often, bloggers, but also the authorities refer to other counties and countries in Romania and in the EU to state how Maramureş should have dealt with heritage protection and protected entire villages at ones with monument status, referring to places like Scandinavia, Germany, Switzerland, Poland and Slovakia (see for example Dulf, 2011 and Ivanciuc, 2012). DJCCPCNM also suggests creating regulations for tax advantages for people who do not demolish their wooden house when they build a new house (Dulf, 2011). But again, a common complaint among many actors is the lack of authority support – not the lack of regulations, but the lack of implementation and enforcement is seen as one of the main obstacles in heritage protection. A study conducted in the Maramureş Depression, by prof. Vasilescu, showed that 86% of the mayors of the communes have created some sort of measure for the protection of cultural heritage, but that they have taken no concrete subsequent 96

actions in this direction (Marian, 2008). Some even asked help from the county authorities, few received this help, but none of the mayors did anything to execute their heritage protection plans (Marian, 2008).

Secondly, the discussion not only focusses on the actions that should be taken to prevent the demolishment of heritage; the discussion mainly focusses on the heart of the place-conflict why is this exclusion of the wooden houses from the landscape (not) a problem? There exist two main reasons for why this phenomenon is a problem and these reasons are also interrelated: the demolishment of heritage diminishes the identity of the region; and it endangers the tourism industry. These reasons are cultural and economic of nature and reflect the ideas behind the wider place-conflict as introduced in the former chapter. As we also saw before, especially the tourism actors and the authorities are concerned with the danger to the tourism industry. Other actors that are more concerned with the identity of the region include the ethnographic museums, the Order of Romanian Architects and some private actors. This perspective also argues, as we saw before, that the people who sell their houses are actually unaware of the value of their heritage and are even called ‘naive’. In another quote, it was stated that the people of Poienile Izei ‘finally woke up’, realized the value of their heritage and stopped selling their wooden houses. But on the contrary, the people who sell their old wooden houses are not so much unaware of the value of their house, they just have a different perception of what value means, i.e. they apprize the economic value of the house over the cultural value of the house. This is typical for the economic-frame, a pragmatic and economic frame in which the monetary value of landscape elements is regarded of more importance than the preservation of landscape elements for the sake of ‘authenticity’ and ‘identity’. The citation from this farmer from Bârsana illustrates the pragmatism of this frame perfectly:

‘The house is mine. It is old and broken. Is a cow with milk not better than this old wood?’ (Blog Noua Deapta, 2009; my translation)

So, the place-conflict should be seen as follows. On one side of the conflict we find the extreme of the fixation-frame with in the mid-range the preservation-frame and the interpretation- frame. These three identity-oriented frames have in common that they all seek to preserve the heritage and identity of Maramureş and aggregate against the exclusion of traditional landscape elements from the landscape of Maramureş, as we saw here. Besides, they are against the introduction of the modern architecture, as we will see in chapter 6. These two latest frames, the modernization-frame and the economic-frame are not necessarily against the preservation of heritage, but can be seen as positioned on the other end of the frame-range as the pragmatism- oriented frames that advocate for a modernization of the landscape of Maramureş. 97

It is important to stress that not all traditional houses have left the village or Maramureş. When we look at the villages through the lens of the narrow definition of traditional houses, very few of such houses of over a hundred years old have been left. But although most traditional houses of old age are either in very bad condition or have lost their ‘authenticity’ due to many renovations and alterations; still houses can be found in the villages. This is especially true if a broad definition of ‘traditional houses’ is employed, although in about one century the numbers of wooden houses dropped from 100% to an estimated 10% of the total village. Firstly, such traditional houses are still present in the village because their owners still live permanently in these houses. The vast majority of these permanent residents of traditional houses are pensioners and elderly. They did not sell off their old houses and it has to be seen what will happen to the houses after their children will inherit them. Secondly, a very common phenomenon is that, due to the movability of the houses, traditional wooden houses are sold to other people for the purpose of residence. The house that changes from owner is then replaced from one place in the village to another place or from one village to another village. As such, not the owners move, but the house moves. This selling of houses for the purpose of residence was very common until about the mid-1990s. Now, due to the fact that younger generations prefer modern houses to live in, it is a less common phenomenon. But occasionally it still happens that locals who have a traditional house to their disposal, for example due to an inheritance, decide to revive and rebuild this old house rather than to spend lots of money on building a new house. This might be motivated either by insufficient economic resources for a new house or because of a love for the preservation of the traditional buildings. Another group of actors that are involved in buying traditional houses after the mid-2000s are tourists and tourist operators. Romanian and foreign tourists including from Italy and France have bought several traditional houses in the village for holiday residence. Besides, tourist operators as guesthouses and campsite owners have bought traditional houses to turn them into cabins and agro-touristic guesthouses. The use of traditional houses by the tourism industry will be discussed in more detail in chapter 7. Another example of how traditional house find a new purpose are the houses that are now used as barns for animals. Also some of the houses which stand in the mountains and hills around the village found a function in the agricultural activities employed by the villagers. Some villages use these houses to rest in or to cook in during the harvest season, if they stay far away from the village in the fields. In the past, the village was more scattered over the mountains and hills, rather than clustered around the village centre as it is now. Therefore, the hills and forests hide quite some of these old houses. Most of them, as with several traditional houses in the village as well, are abandoned by their owners and were never sold. They stand and decay until they finally collapse. By now, the condition of these houses is so bad that preservation is hardly possible anymore. Nonetheless, there are also traditional houses that are used for the purpose of preservation. Firstly, there are the houses that are bought by the ethnographic 98

museums and taken out of the villages to the outdoor museum parks. As long as this concerns the museums of Baie Mare and Sighet, it could be argued that the houses still stand in the landscape of Maramureş, but museums all over Romania buy such houses – and churches as well – and as such, this preservation has also the effect of excluding houses from the Maramureş’ landscape. Importantly, not only museums and governments are involved in the preservation of traditional houses, but local residents as well, as discussed before.

Summarized, concerning the traditional houses that are deconstructed and excluded from the landscape of Maramureş, the removal of these houses is mediated by either the (1) reconstruction of these house outside of Maramureş of by (2) the reallocation of the wood for diverse purposes in- and outside of Maramureş. The traditional houses that still stand or are rebuild in the landscape of Maramureş can be divided into four categories: (1) permanent residence; (2) leisure and tourism; (3) collection and conservation; and (4) abandonment and decay.

5.2.2 The Ethnographic Museums of Maramureş Maramureş has two ethnographic museums, one in Baia Mare and one in Sighet. The museum in Baia Mare has 25 houses and a church and started in the 1960s, while the museum in Sighet is larger with 36 houses, a church and some other constructions and started in the 1970s. The museum of Baia Mare was mainly creating its collection in the 1960s, 1970s and 1980s, while the museum of Sighet, as we will see, is still involved in new projects to expand its collection and museum. The museum in Sighet has the name to be much better maintained and is indeed in better condition. The Baia Mare museum focusses on the different ethnographic lands of county Maramureş (see Image 11), while the Sighet museum focusses on the sub-zones and valleys of the Land of Maramureş specifically. Through the life-long involvement of expert professor Mihai Dăncuş, the ethnographic museum of Sighet has quite a reputation in the field of heritage protection and is also more involved in the place-conflict than the museum of Baia Mare, which is rather absent from the discussions.

The involvement of the museums in the place-conflict is somewhat ambiguous since they do not explicitly try to influence people’s choices for the styles of architecture of their houses. Meanwhile, the museums certainly stress the importance of preserving the identity of Maramureş and of keeping its ethnographic and folkloric life intact and alive. They do so not merely by intervening in the everyday lives and villages of the people of Maramureş, by creating ‘living museums’ as advocated by the formal representation, but rather by creating real museums by the conservation and restoring entire museum villages with houses, churches, schools etcetera. Once and a while, the museums organize festivals in their museums and bring Maramureş ‘to live’ so that the village ‘will be functional so that the visitor will be familiarized with everyday village life’, staging 99

Image 11: Traditional houses in the ethnographic museum of Baia Mare

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farming, weaving, pottering, dancing, traditional music etcetera (Dăncuş, 2011: 69). The ethnographic museums were already involved in creating these museums long before the place- conflict and the landscape transformation of Maramureş started. As such, their initial aim was to create an ethnographic museum that shows how different ethnographic zones reside and this still is their primary aim; although when the museums started to collect their houses, there were still many of these houses in the landscape, while now there are hardly any left. The museums selected their traditional houses based on age (Dan, 2011b) and ‘scientific criteria’ (i.e. a set of criteria developed to determine the authenticity and architectural value of a house) (Dăncuş, 2011), employing a narrow definition of the term ‘traditional house’. The ethnographic museum from Sighet for example, selected thirty-six houses out of an initial pre-selected seven-hundred houses from all over the traditional Maramureş (Dan, 2011b). Clearly, the ethnographic museums adhere to the fixation- frame while they seek to collect traditional houses from the region and fixate them into pre-set and pre-defined conditions. Hereby they seek houses to be as authentic as possible or they bring the houses back to authentic state. While the museums belief that hardly any of such wooden architectural constructions are left in nowadays Maramureş, their projects of preservation are finished, except for the continuing maintenance to the museum collections. Of the hundreds of houses, sheds, windmills, watermills, etcetera that the museums selected and visited in the 1970s, now they are not interested in any of these objects anymore, because according to the museums ‘they have all disappeared’, either as ‘firewood in people’s ovens’ or they are ‘exported to end up as foreigners flooring’ (Dan, 2011b). Off course this concerns the ‘authentic’ wooden architecture, the wooden landscape elements in which the museums would be interested in: the items which are old and which conform to certain standards, because Maramureş still has wooden houses, but none that the museums are interested in. In the view of the museums and in the fixation-frame, the current wooden houses from Maramureş are not traditional houses and are not ‘houses from Maramureş’. Authentic houses are made of wood from the oak tree, not from the fir tree, as most current houses are. And the style is different: authentic houses are built according to ‘well established rules’ (Dăncuş, 2011: 70) like exact distances between houses and annexes; the ‘gate is a must’ and are ‘real arches of triumph’ (Dăncuş, 2011: 71); the houses have two rooms and a small hall; etcetera (Dăncuş, 2011). Who compares the houses from the villages with the houses from the museums sees that indeed these houses are very different from the once in the museums. The Maramureş and its identity as represented by the museums and the fixation-frame form a sharp contrast with the everyday lives of the people of Maramureş who currently live in wooden houses. They do not apply these rules, nor live in houses as large as the once in the museums and they employ different perspectives on their houses as we will see later. Both the formal representation, which represent Maramureş as a living museum and the museums, which are museums brought to live, bring forward representations of 101

Maramureş that stand in tension with the material reality of the region. It is also therefore that an often heard critique on the museums is, that although the museums preserve at least some of Maramureş’ history, they do not offer ‘a solution for the villages’; i.e. their contribution to cultural heritage protection does not contribute to an on-site solution for the demolishment of heritage and the exclusion of traditional styles of wooden architecture of the landscape of Maramureş. On the contrary, the museums are said by some to contribute to the phenomenon, because they actively export houses out of the villages. A blogger writes for example:

The leaders of the Maramureş’ museums did not understand that is essential to keep monuments on site and not to transfer them to dead and lifeless museums. If in the 1970s, when the region had thousands of old houses, virtually entire villages, they would have decided to save these monuments on the spot, we would see today a true Maramureş, one of the stories told in the touristic guides. (Ivanciuc, 2012; my translation)

As stated, the museums are in the last decade less active in adding to their collection, since new acquisitions are hard to find. Recently however, the museum of Sighet has been involved in a project to add another section to its museum called the ‘sector of water powered technical installation’, of which the main attraction is a totally restored water mill that they recovered from Ieud (Dăncuş, 2011). In order to make the project financially possible, the museum went to the Romanian authorities but did not receive more support but 10% of the budget of 600.000 EUR (Dan, 2011b), provided by the Ministry of Culture in 1998 (Dăncuş, 2011). The rest of the budget was made available by the authorities of Norway and via cooperation with the Vest-Telemark Museum from Norway. From 2009 until 2011, Norway supported cultural heritage protection in Romania with ten million EUR by supporting several projects, promising to start such a project again in the near future, with a budget ranging up to about three million EUR (Dan, 2011b). The link between Scandinavia and Maramureş concerning heritage protection has also impacted the actors’ perceptions of the place- conflict. A common concern among the proponents of a ‘Maramureş identity’ that is exemplified in the landscape via traditional styles of architecture, is how to convince the proponents of the modernization-frame, that comfort and modern life-styles can perfectly go together with traditional houses. The Norwegian representatives explained to them that in Norway wood actually ís the symbol for comfort and modernity: ‘it is possible to have all modern facilities in a wooden house’ (Dan, 2011b; my translation). But in Maramureş wood symbolizes poverty, according to the heritage protectors and the Norwegian representatives realize that here are hardly any wooden houses. But they go on to stress, in Norway everyone uses wood, the poor and the rich, because ‘Norwegians equate wood and comfort’, because wood is organic and because wood protects against cold winters 102

(Dan, 2011b; my translation). But most importantly, the Norwegians stress, in their country the wooden houses are protected by law and people receive budget from the authorities to preserve their houses (Dan, 2011b). No matter how much these ideas connect with the perceptions of the heritage protectors of Maramureş, they are not so suitable for the ethnographic museums to work with, because they do not aim to intervene in the on-site situations of the villages. However, the idea to create wooden houses which look like the traditional houses from Maramureş, but are at the same time modern and comfortable is exactly the aim of the Program for the Protection of the Build Landscape in Maramureş, headed by the architect which also designed the Sector of Water Powered Technical Installation for the ethnographic museum in Sighet. This is where we now turn to.

5.2.3 The Program for the Protection of the Build Landscape in Maramureş As discussed in the preceding paragraphs of this chapter, the other actors involved in the domain of cultural heritage protection were either focussing on the protection of the wooden churches or on the phenomenon of the traditional houses that are exported from the Maramureş. Besides, the heritage protection actors discussed before, like UNESCO and the ethnographic museums, rather ignored the modern, new styled houses and the perspectives of their residents by focussing on the exclusion and protection of traditional styles of architecture, rather than on the introduction of new styles of architecture. In addition to the actors in the domain of heritage protection that were discussed so far, there is another important actor active in Maramureş that also fiercely advocates the ‘identity of Maramureş’ as being best exemplified through a traditional architecture. But this program does so by reacting on the style and perspectives of the proponents of the modern, new houses and by focussing on the wooden houses that still stand in the villages of Maramureş. The program is leaded by architect Laura Zaharia and some other architects participate as well and is called the Programului de Protectie pentru Peisajul Construit in Maramureş (The Program for the Protection of the Build Landscape of Maramureş), running since 2008 and financed by the Romanian Order of Architects.

The aim of the program is threefold: it wants to stimulate people who own a traditional house (i.e. defined broadly) to not demolish this house, to stimulate people who build a new house to build a house in a ‘Maramureş-style’ and to assist authorities in preserving local cultural heritage. On their website, the program actors motivate their choice to do so as follows:

(…) because the Maramureş landscape and the traditional houses from this area are of great beauty; because together, they form a poetry and picturesqueness; and because we are about to lose this treasure of our identity. (‘Argument’, 2009) 103

So, also the actors from this program are clearly motivated and driven by the identity-focused frames, that is, by the wish to see the landscape of Maramureş materialized in traditionalizing forms. These actors idealize the ‘traditional’ landscape of Maramureş as a landscape which was far more beautiful and desirable than the current landscape. That becomes clear from the tags that they use in this quote as ‘poetry’ and ‘picturesqueness’, but becomes especially clear from their discussions in which they contrast the traditional houses with modern architecture. There they state that the traditional architecture of Maramureş represents a ‘valuable inheritance’ which is ‘harmoniously integrated within the rural landscape’; while the modern architecture has an ‘arrogant attitude’, is ‘aggressive’ and ‘inappropriate’ towards the landscape, ‘ignores the cultural and natural contexts’, etcetera (‘Descierea programului’, 2009: 2; my translation). There are a number of characteristics of the modern architecture that these architects call especially disruptive for the identity of the Land of Wood: new houses do not keep ‘appropriate’ distances between the house and the neighbours and the streets (see Image 12); modern architecture has incorporated new materials like plastics and styles from other regions in and outside Romania; wood has been replaced by concrete; and ‘simple and proportionate shaped’ houses with tall roofs have been replaced by ‘massive and complicated volumes’ with ‘contorted and unnatural’ roofs (‘Descierea programului’, 2009: 2; my translation). So, the identity of the Land of Wood is under serious threat by the introduction of this modern architecture; and as the other heritage protection actors, the architects are dedicated to protect the regions identity. But not only is the new architecture perceived to be a threat. Like introduced before, some of the disagreement on how to preserve traditional houses exists between the people that agree that traditional houses are defining the identity of Maramureş. And as such, the heritage protection actors see themselves positioned in this place-conflict as disagreeing with the proponents of the preservation-frame. For most residents of traditional houses employ a broad definition of such houses and, often for very pragmatic reasons, make adaptations to their houses and annexes as replacing the very vulnerable wooden roofs for a more resident asbestos roof; or replacing the wooden fence for a modern fence of stainless steel. The architects however, belief that such adaptations are not in accordance to the original and authentic styles and materials used in traditional houses and that therefore such adaptations should be avoided (See Image 10). They published a whole list of examples of traditional houses from villages, with photos, and rated these examples through smileys to explain to local residents which kinds of modifications are acceptable and which violate the identity of Maramureş. Such focus on traditional houses that adhere to a strict set of pre-defined scientific and architectural rules might indicate that these architects adhere to the fixation-frame. However, they do not, because they belief that saving the Land of Wood should be done by saving the house in a manner which keeps them truly alive and lived in rather than fixated and dead, and needs the creation of a neo-vernacular architecture: 104

Image 12: Landscape transformation and modernization: larger houses, smaller distances to roads

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‘We consider being necessary the reconstruction of a Maramureş identity based on tradition, but adapted to the needs of modern man.’ (‘Descierea programului’, 2009: 3; my translation)

By opening ‘up to the needs of modern man’ and incorporating these needs in an adapted architecture, they distance themselves from the fixation of traditional architecture and open up for perspectives that argue for preservation through modification, instead of fixation. Hence, this neo- vernacular architecture will be an architecture that is inspired on the traditional vernacular architecture of Maramureş (‘Arhitectura vernaculara’, 2009). They further argue that such architecture has to incorporate two important features, based on the two characteristics of the Maramureş traditional architecture: (1) ‘the Maramureş architecture is an architecture born in poverty’, while the houses were small, but now the neo-architecture will have to discover how to adapt to the modern desire of comfort; and (2) ‘the Maramureş architecture is an architecture born in nature’, while the houses stood in harmony with their natural environments, so the neo- architecture will have to be surrounded with lots of space and greenery (‘Arhitectura vernaculara’, 2009). The perspective of these architects can best be called a mix of two frames: the interpretation- frame and the preservation-frame. Firstly, they belong to the preservation-frame because they stand for the keeping of the houses in the landscape and for residing in them instead of fixation the houses into conditions in which they are no longer liveable. Modifications are allowed to be made to the houses to make their living conditions more comfortable in order to contribute to the preservation of the houses in the landscape. Actually one might argue that their perspective is thus more pragmatic than of the other heritage protectors, while they acknowledge that making a concession between comfort and protection makes preservation possible, while otherwise the houses lose their function and will be demolished or sold. But these adaptations should adhere to strict architectural rules, which they created through this program, as will be discussed later in more detail. The architects designed a catalogue with examples of such adapted traditional houses (See Image 13). Secondly, this catalogue also contains examples of brand new, modern styled houses which are of an architectural style that, according to these architects, reflects a neo-vernacular style that exemplifies the identity of Maramureş and according to them, should replace the currently introduced modern ‘kitsch’-style that totally ‘denies’ the Maramureş identity (See Image 14). As such, they also belong to the interpretation-frame, by creating new houses and a modern architecture based on the interpretation of the traditional architecture. This frame seeks to preserve and promote the identity of Maramureş, but at the same time wants to satisfy the desires of modern men, like comfortable houses, sufficient rooms in the house, bathrooms within the house, a modern outlook of the exterior etcetera. It should be noted that in this interpretation-frame, there are different stances as well, as 106

Image 13: Examples from the catalogue by the Program for the Protection of the Build Landscape of Maramureş, with traditional houses adapted according to strict architectural rules | Pictures copied from the catalogue, available on http://www.conservarearhitectura.ro/catalog-cu-case-in-stil-traditional.html

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Image 14: Examples from the catalogue by the Program for the Protection of the Build Landscape of Maramureş, with houses in a neo-vernacular style | Pictures copied from the catalogue, available on http://www.conservarearhitectura.ro/catalog-cu-case-in-stil-traditional.html

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we will see later in more detail, for example among tourism actors; because also the new, modern large gates can be seen as such kind of interpretations of traditional architecture, and these types of architecture are very much disapproved by the architects as ‘not of Maramureş’.

The architects state that concrete and bright colours should not corrupt the landscape of the Land of Wood and that it is therefore time for that ‘noble material’ wood to ‘regain its rights’ (‘Tara Lemnului’, 2009). Therefore, next to the catalogue with houses, they developed a set of rules and regulations called the ‘Set of Architectural Regulations’ that indicate into detail the characteristics to which buildings should adhere to, such that any building which is built accordingly to these regulations might be called ‘as being from Maramureş’ i.e. as respecting the identity of Maramureş (‘Descierea programului’, 2009: 3). The Set of Architectural Regulations was aimed to be made available to local authorities, to assist them in preserving their local heritage and is meant to go together with other stimulating measures including building permits, subsidies and tax advantages for people who want to be involved in building a house from the catalogue. The rules define for example that the building materials for the house and annexes should be predominantly wood and stone and absolutely not plastic materials; the rules define the ‘proper’ volumes of the buildings; they state that the roof should be 2/3 of the total height of the house; the house should fit perfectly in the natural environment; etcetera (‘Setul de Reguli’, 2009). But although the rules are designed as such that the adapted houses still are characterized in their architectural characteristics as the former houses were, they are meant to be larger and more comfortable. This comfort is created for example by the creation of additional rooms on the inside, by making rooms in the basement and former attic and by adding extra windows. The newspaper Romanian Libera for example discusses a house which as such has been brought from 73.3 m2 meters to 245 m2 of living space and from two rooms to several rooms, including separate space for a kitchen, bathroom and bedrooms (Dan, 2011a). But only if traditional houses are modified respecting the rules specified in the Set of Architectural Regulations, the adaptations are acceptable, according to the architects. So, although the architects are part of the preservation-frame, they do not agree with all other actors participating in this frame, who would not have a problem with adaptations that do not respect these rules. Besides, also the new styled houses they designed for the catalogue apply to these rules. The catalogue and the rules were designed for and only used in Budesti and Sarbi, as a pilot project. The architects would like to extent this project to other villages in Maramureş and contacted all other mayors of Maramureş, but none of them was interested. Also in Budesti and Sarbi, the project was not so successful, very few people did actually come to the authorities to take a look in the catalogue and inform on the possibilities. Most people are often not so interested whether the houses they live 109

in are formally approved to be ‘of Maramureş’ and for pragmatic reasons, as related to the bureaucratic procedures involved with the financial advances of the project, they often decide to take care of their construction matters without involving the authorities. Moreover, if people want to make their wooden house larger, they do so anyway and not always want to be bothered by formal rules explicating them how to do so, if the advantages involved are not outweighing this disadvantage. Besides, many people who decide to build a house in the new, modern style find this new style far more appealing and aesthetical than the neo-architecture from the architects, which is totally unknown and unfamiliar to the villages of Maramureş. Besides, wood is a more expensive product than the modern and cheaper materials and to build a wooden house needs experience, while the modern houses can be built by nearly everyone in Maramureş. And then there is the critique of other heritage protection actors, who belief that these actions are actually bad for the heritage of Maramureş, because it contributes to its destruction. Some argue that in this way, by projects like this, wooden houses are further demolished and changed towards something that does not longer represent the history of how people used to live in Maramureş. Teofil Ivanciuc, for example, argues:

[the] architects have proposed to modernize old houses or to replace them with new houses. It's a version that contradicts European methods of conservation and restoration of old houses. (Ivanciuc, 2012)

This blogger would rather prefer the houses to be kept intact, as in the ‘European model of conservation’, rather than to replace them with adapted or renewed houses. It is not that the architects do think about such initiatives like these also, because they included a description of such projects from all over the world on their website (from Senegal, Mali, Romania, Germania, and Poland) to provide an example of how a region that respects its cultural heritage might look like. In order to work toward the aim of such a region, the architects have been involved in some more projects next to the Program for the Protection of the Build Landscape in Maramureş. This includes a small project in which some of them worked on an international team of architects that set up a small set of architectural and construction rules for the towns and villages in the Maramureş Mountains Natural Park in order to protect both the cultural heritage and nature in the park. The architects also tried to set up a tourism promotion project in one of the villages of Maramureş, by creating a walking path with along this path several traditional architectural objects, like houses and watermills to visit. Both these projects were never really crystalized, due to lack of financial resources. 110

In the summer of 2012, on initiative of Laura Zaharia, a VERNADOC camp was organized in Calinesţi. The VERNADOC camps are a series of camps initiated by a Finish professor, Markku Mattila, from the University of Helsinki. The camps aim to bring together international teams of architects to draw sites of vernacular architecture and publish these drawings in special brochures, to bring old vernacular architecture up as a new source of inspiration for nowadays, modern architecture. This time, the camp in Calinesţi, Maramureş, aimed at measuring and drawing the wooden church from Calinesţi Susani. At the end of the camp, the drawings were displayed for the public, in order to raise awareness under the locals and the authorities about the value of the heritage. Besides, the architects aimed to improve their relation with the International Committee of Vernacular Architecture (CIAV ICOMOS), because the VERNACOC camps are closely related to CIAV ICOMOS. So, the camp aimed both directly and indirectly at the protection of cultural heritage in Maramureş, by seeking to influence and inform the locals and the authorities but also by reaching out, networking and connecting with international teams and organizations that might assist them in their goal to protect cultural heritage in Maramureş. Moreover, by organizing this camp and by participating in camps in other countries, the architects of Maramureş seek to gain and exchange knowledge and ideas on programs and measures that can be taken to protect cultural heritage. Overall, the architects might be said to be one of the most active of all actors in the domain of cultural heritage protection in Maramureş. Besides, they prove to be very creative and the actors that employ most the position of mediators, while they seek to uphold both preservation of the identity and heritage of Maramureş and the satisfaction of the desires of modern men.

5.2.4 Academics and Cultural Heritage Protection in Maramureş In the preceding paragraphs, it became clear that the authorities advocating the identity of Maramureş as Land of Old and Land of Wood should primarily be perceived from their role as tourism promoters, because they seek to stimulate the county’s socio-economic development. In this same respect, also academic actors adopt the perspective that the preservation of cultural heritage and development of a tourism industry based on this heritage might prove an interesting opportunity for socio-economic development. Authors that have worked on this topic quite extendedly, both in Maramureş and in other areas in Romania like the Apuseni Mountains, are for example David Turnock and Nicolae Muica (see for example: Muica and Turnock 2000). Remarkably however, is that some authors not only employ the perspective that cultural heritage is a suitable resource that might be exploited for the sake of a region’s development, some authors employ the very same lyric descriptions as the formal representation itself, as if they not just advocate such a representation for the sake of tourism, but share such a place-meaning as if this is how they personally experience Maramureş, as if this is how their daily life in Maramureş looks like. The type of papers we are talking 111

about ranges from papers published in academic journals to scientific conference papers and concern the cultural heritage – mainly the wooden churches – either perceived as (1) resource for tourism development (for example: Cianga, 2007; Ilovan, 2010; and Petrea et al., 2011) or (2) as its own end, i.e. papers concerning the protection of vernacular architecture and heritage (for example: Constantinescu, n.d. and Moraru et al., 2011).

The academic articles that believe the wood civilization of Maramureş to be a suitable resource for tourism development stress that this stems from its well-known wooden architecture, which mainly exists in houses, churches and gates (for example: Ilovan, 2010). Ilovan (2010: 44) even states that the rural area looks ‘like an open-air museum’ and states that the churches have a symbolic function for their county as representing Maramureş. This idea that the wooden churches are ‘representative components’ of their region (Cianga, 2007: 59) is more common in this kind of academic literature, as the idea that the wooden architecture is ‘perfectly integrated into the environment of Maramureş’ (Cianga, 2007: 61). According to this author, the value and uniqueness of the churches is derived from this integration with the ‘natural frame’ and with the ‘authentic rural civilization and culture’ (Cianga, 2007: 61). The articles stress that off all the wooden architecture of Maramureş, the churches are the most suitable tourist objectives (for example: Cianga, 2007). Such kind of descriptions remind very much of the formal representation, were Maramureş was also framed as a living museum, the churches were framed as most important regional symbols and where the descriptions were lyric and idyllic, stressing the regions traditionalism and authenticity. However, it should be noted that there exist an important difference between these academic perspectives and the formal representation. While the formal representation claims the wooden churches as a defining characteristic and asset which are unique for Maramureş, the academic actors reveal that these churches are defining characteristics for a far larger area, comprising the entire region of Transylvania according to e.g. Cianga (2007) or what Ilovan (2010) calls the ‘Lands in the Romanian Tisa basin’, which spreads over the Noth-West of Romania, some areas in the center of Romania and some in the very South of Romania. In this sense, as the authors advocate, wooden churches are not special for Maramureş at all, but can be assets used for place-based development in all these regions. A study by Petrea et al (2011) even resonates all of the thinking about the wood civilization and tourism development as common in Maramureş, but is entirely targeted at the land of Beius, in the West of Romania. This illustrates that the idea of wood civilizations as place-symbols in formal representations on regions is more common and academic actors seek to recommend development initiatives based on rural and cultural tourism in several regions of Romania. 112

Concerning the second type of papers, the ones that deal with the protection and conservation of cultural heritage, they share with the first type that their language describing Maramureş and the wooden churches compares to the formal representation: lyric and idyllic, stressing traditionalism and authenticity, framing Maramureş as the Land of Old and Land of Wood. Constantinescu (n.d.: 3) for example refers to Maramureş as the ‘land of wood’ and ‘as near to a living museum as can be found in Europe’. As with the papers discussed before, also this type echoes the formal representation in its language, but differs from it by acknowledging the many wooden churches in other regions: wooden churches are characteristic for Transylvania and not for Maramureş only, and the oldest wooden church is to be found outside of Maramureş, in Lupşa, stresses Moraru et al (2011). Besides, this type of papers has another important difference with the formal representation, like also UNESCO had: their concern with the studying, restoration and conservation of cultural heritage makes that they are also occupied not only with the idyllic descriptions and fairytale stories, but with the more distant facts of the heritage as well. The papers provide a detailed description of the architecture of the churches, including the construction of the building in stages, the impact of Byzantine and Gothic styles in the exterior and interiors and of the meanings of the many religious symbols in the gates and paintings in the interiors (see for example Constantinescu, n.d and Moraru et al, 2011).

5.2.5 Conclusion: Place-conflict, place-frames and areanas One of the main disputes of the place-conflict is the new style of architecture: colourful, large and modern houses, which are said to be ‘urban’ and as such unfit for a rural setting. But the landscape of Maramureş not only transforms due to the introduction of new styles of architecture, it is also characterised by the exclusion of what is regarded traditional styles of architecture: the small wooden houses with steep, wooden roofs. Since the 1970s, cultural heritage protection has been introduced in Maramureş as a reaction on this latest phenomenon. As the preceding paragraphs have shown, the domain of heritage protection in Maramureş is characterized by a variety of different actors with differing perspectives and motivations concerning the protection of vernacular architecture and in Maramureş. Besides, in recent years, attention for cultural heritage protection has increased in the local media, including newspapers and blogs. The media has become the main arena of the place-conflict, where opinions, accusations, problem statements and solutions are addressed. But heritage protectors also keep trying to involve the formal political domain in heritage protection, while at the same time some politicians are also calling for action themselves. Besides, the actors involved in cultural heritage protecting in Maramureş increasingly build networks all over Europe, aiming to find cooperation and assistance in their aim to protect the local heritage left. Nonetheless, the overall impact of cultural heritage protection attempts on the landscape of 113

Maramureş is rather limited. Hence, this paragraph will discuss the different actors and their differing perspectives and secondly, how the heritage protectors use the arenas of media and politics and international networks to work towards their goal and what obstacles they meet on their way.

Before, it was stated that the place-conflict and the disagreements between these actors focus on four issues mainly: (1) what is a ‘traditional’ house; (2) should you preserve a ‘traditional’ house; (3) why should you do so; and (4) how should you do so? To sum up the preceding discussion, this paragraph will briefly pay attention to all of these issues. Firstly, there are different ways of defining ‘traditional houses’. We saw that UNESCO and the ethnographic museums employ a narrow definition of ‘traditional houses’, belonging to the fixation-frame. The other actors employ broader definitions or ‘traditional houses’, although the architects of the Program for the Protection of the Build Landscape of Maramureş also employ a strict set of rules before they want to call a house ‘truly of Maramureş’. Secondly, there are different perceptions of whether or not heritage should be preserved. The identity-based frames all are in favour of protecting cultural heritage. The proponents of the pragmatism-based prefer the pragmatic choices of comfort and financial benefits over the protection of the identity of Maramureş. This fuels the conflict between the two sides of the frame- spectrum and causes the increase in attention in media and on internet for the phenomenon of the decreasing number of traditional houses in the Maramureş landscape during recent years. Thirdly, the motivations for cultural heritage protection are different for different actors. As argued, most heritage protectors are concerned with the identity of the region per se, but the authorities and academic actors are primarily motivated by stimulation of tourism and the economy and the advantage for socio-economic development. Fourthly, actors involved in heritage protection differ in their opinion of how heritage should be protected. Some adhere to the idea of fixation of individual or entire sets of landscape elements, while others advocate for alteration of existing houses (whether or not according to rules), or the introduction of neo-vernacular styles. On this topic exists a lot of disagreement too, not only between the identity-based frames and the pragmatism-based frames, but also between and within the identity-based frames.

One of the reasons behind the disappearance of old wooden houses is the recently appeared phenomenon of international trade in such houses. This phenomenon has received a lot of outrage and attention in local media, including newspapers and blogs. The media is the main arena of the place-conflict, where opinions, accusations, problem statements and solutions are addressed. Media as newspapers seem to be at the hand of the heritage protectors, by reporting about their actions and giving voice to their plead of the urgency of heritage protection. Other media like blogs are used by both local and non-local actors to express feelings of worry about the condition of heritage, to 114

offer suggestions about solutions, to express feelings of displeasure about the functioning of the authorities, but as well about how the modern architecture spoils the landscape. Also, media are used to raise awareness among the people of Maramureş and to call for active involvement in the preservation of heritage left, like not to sell houses that still stand in the villages. Media are often used to report interviews with inspiring heritage protectors or to portray photos and videos of picturesque, but threatened heritage, in order to stimulate the people of Maramureş to be aware of ‘their identity’ and to be more actively attached to it and involved in preserving it. Hence, the media- area is employed for the sake of heritage protection. Meanwhile, it is also the domain of the politics of place and the negotiation of place-identity, while media also offer room for reactions that oppose the call for protection. So does, for example, not everyone agrees with the call for the preservation of old houses, some people react that selling them is not such a bad idea. Others say that who wants to save it should do so themselves and should not oblige others to do this as well. And others believe that colourful houses are not modern or opposing tradition necessarily, since colourfulness is part of the ethnography of Maramureş. So, the media arena is for the heritage protector’s one of the most important arenas for reaching their aims, while it offers them opportunity for dialogue with the people whose perceptions and behaviours towards the landscape they want to impact.

Another way in which the actors of heritage protection seek to translate their aims into material realities is by building relations and coalitions with local and non-local political governors, in order to influence processes of budgeting, policing and the formation and application of rules and regulations. As we saw before, it is this arena that is far less at that hand of the cultural heritage protectors than the media arena. Politicians often prioritize other domains of policy over heritage protection often result in non-assigning of budgets and non-application of rules regarding heritage protection. Besides, the malfunctioning, the bureaucracy, political quarrels and slow policy processes in the political arena often result in failed and unfinished projects. So, even though governments do include the protection of local traditional styles of architecture in their policy plans, cultural heritage protectors say that they experience that official hesitate to cooperate in supporting their projects. Examples are the projects of the museum of Sighet that could hardly find 10% of its funds to come from the government and the catalogue with rules and examples of neo-vernacular architecture from the Program for the Protection of the Build Landscape of Maramureş, which only found one of the majors of Maramureş willing to distribute these catalogues at his city-hall among interested civilians. As such, as this chapter has shown, the obstacles that heritage protectors meet limit them severely in making the crucial step from the planning table to the phase where their ideas are crystalized in the material landscape. The main obstacles that they perceive are the lack of financial resources; the lack of rules and regulations, and foremost the lack of implementation and enforcement of such rules; 115

and the lack of authority support. Hence, the actual impact of the country level cultural heritage protection attempts on the landscape of Maramureş is minimal; that is, in material sense. The landscape of Maramureş is material transforming into a modernizing landscape; its wooden houses are demolished, repurposed, exported or alternated. Cultural heritage protectors’ actions should be seen as perceptions and attempts to do something to intervene in these processes, but their actual successes in material sense are rather small and are limited to preserving one house here and restoring another house there. Hence, the impact of cultural heritage protectors on the Maramureş landscape is mainly discursive of character: they are the main actors that triggered the place-conflict over the identity of Maramureş. By using the media, they seek to influence the minds of the people of Maramureş and try to convince them to change their perspective on the identity of Maramureş, on traditions and on residing on hope to influence their styles of residing as having a less modernizing impact on the landscape. The heritage protection actors, as very important and most dominant actors in the place-conflict, should be regarded as the leading actors behind the discursive landscape transformation trend (i.e. the place-conflict) that seeks to cancel the material transformation which urbanized the landscape of Maramureş during the last few decades.

Next to the media and political arena, there is a third arena relevant for understanding how the cultural heritage protectors of Maramureş try to reach their aim of protecting the landscape: the construction arena. It is in this arena that the residents of Maramureş find the room to build the modern houses and architecture and recently, the heritage protectors have initiated some initiatives in this arena as well to influence this trend. Here, the main initiative is that of the Program for the Protection of the Build Landscape of Maramureş, which developed a catalogue with rules guiding the modification of old houses and examples of new styles of architecture that could be considered still being ‘of Maramureş’. Hereby, they seek to bring back the architecture of new houses to styles that conform to elements of traditional architecture, while trying to erase non-local and non-traditional styles from the landscape. Due to a range of characteristics of the construction arena however, most people in Maramureş built in the current modern style. Firstly, the lack of application of permits and rules and regulations concerning constructions due to the malfunctioning of the political arena makes that everyone can do as pleases them. Secondly, many construction companies are specialized in constructing modern and large houses and increasingly, modern materials are available which are also much cheaper than traditional materials as wood. Besides, more construction companies and workers have knowledge on working with modern materials than on working with wood, which requires specialization; an expertise not widely available. Moreover, many people build houses by themselves or with help of neighbours or befriended constructors and not in cooperation with construction companies, providing them with the room to build whatever they want, especially 116

because rules are not strictly applied. Besides, it is not uncommon that people can have applied to their houses whatever styles and elements they like, restricted only by social restrictions, while people often count with prevailing styles, what others do as well and with what is fashionable: ‘neighbouring’. As we will see in later chapters in more detail, some wooden styles reappeared lately in the landscape and are becoming quite popular but heritage protectors regard these as ‘disney- styles’, as ‘kitsch’ and as well as ‘not authentic’ and ‘not truly of Maramureş.’ Overall, the new, modern style is often preferred over the neo-vernacular styles as suggested by the heritage protectors and hardly any interest is paid into these styles by people who want to build new houses. These styles are very different from the styles common in Maramureş and while people usually do prefer to build in accordance to prevailing styles and fashion, it is unlikely that they will easily start to build in such different, neo-vernacular styles. Hence, the impact of the heritage protectors on the construction arena is also limited.

While the heritage protectors of Maramureş find themselves hardly able to influence the political arena and pressure politicians for action, they seek to build other coalitions and relationships to find the cooperation and resources to assist them in their aim of preserving a traditionalist landscape. Likewise their obstacles, also their strategies are very similar to the ones of the parish of Poienile Izei. As became clear from the discussion of the actors’ practices in the preceding paragraphs, the heritage protectors of Maramureş also seek to build coalitions and networks throughout all Europe and the world. Hereby, the focus is mainly on non-governmental organizations likewise themselves, like groups of architects, CIAV (International Committee of Vernacular Architecture), museums, universities, but as well governmental organizations as the government of Norway, etcetera. By doing so, they hope to overcome some of their main obstacles, like the lack of financial resources (Norway financed for example a large share of a project in the ethnography museum of Sighet), but as well aims at building networks and mutual learning (like for example the project of both the museum of Sighet and the VERNADOC camp were intended to inform the actors involved how in other countries heritage protection is practiced and how elements thereof could be locally applied too). Moreover, by involving non-local actors and coalitions, they hope to find support – politically and financially – to reach their aims after all and establish pressure in the local political arena for action. Therefore, the relations and projects that are shared with non-local actors are extendedly reported about in the local media as well, intending to strengthen the awareness of how cultural heritage protection proceeds in Maramureş and the perception of people that action needs to be taken to prevent total destruction of the local identity. Hereby, the local media is used as well to increase pressure on the local political arena, by putting accent on how European actors protect the heritage of Maramureş, while local governors lack behind in doing so. 117

5.3 Conclusion: Politics of Place and the Place-Conflict in Maramureş

This chapter has shown that the place-conflict in Maramureş is in essence about the discrepancy between the formal representation, which symbolizes the region by its traditional architecture, and the landscape, which is characterized by a modernizing architecture. Because the landscape is the outcome and product of the practices of the people who live and work there, the politics of place here are primarily concerned with an attempt of the cultural heritage protectors to have a traditional identity of place dominate these everyday lives of the rural. Besides, as we will see in later chapters in more detail, not only are the everyday lives tried to be dominated for the purpose of the identity of the region as a goal in itself, the formal representation is also tried to be enforced on the everyday practices of residing for the purpose of tourism promotion. The everyday lives of the residents of Maramureş are said to stand in tension with both the aim of heritage protection and the formal representation. This causes a contestedness and negotiation over place-meaning in Maramureş. Two opposite spatial identities dominate the place-conflict, labeling Maramureş either traditional or rather modern. Many residents preferred the modern spatial identity and spatial practices. As a reaction on the modern houses that they build, cultural heritage protection started off since the 1970s. The aim of the cultural heritage protectors is to re-make place as such that the landscape comes to reflects the days of the past, a ‘true Maramureş’. Hence, these processes are part of a politics of place; a conflict over landscape and essentially over place. Places are constructed and re- made in processes of conflictual negotiation and the re-making of place includes a contestednesss and a politics of spatial identities and spatial practices. This process of negotiation and contesting of space then is the politics of place, the politics of the terms of use and of the identity of place. This paragraph will offer a more detailed discussion of how the politics of place play out in Maramureş how this influences landscape transformation in Maramureş.

Cultural heritage protection seeks to impact the everyday lives of the rural by three means mainly: (1) through formal rules and regulations; (2) by influencing and changing opinions and perceptions; and (3) by creating initiatives and projects as catalogues with architectural plans for houses. Subsequently, the politics of place is played out in three arenas: the formal political arena, the media arena and the construction arena. Nonetheless, the cultural heritage protectors in Maramureş are not very successful in reaching their aims, especially because of the malfunctioning of the political arena and because the residents use the room they have to move in the political and construction arena to follow up their wish to build modern houses. While formal rules are often not strictly applied and checked; and while many construction companies build modern houses, traditional styles disapproved by heritage protectors and while many people build houses by 118

themselves or with help of neighbors, the impact of cultural heritage protection via these arenas is rather small. Therefore, they extensively use the media arena in an attempt to influence the awareness, knowledge, opinions and perceptions of residents about cultural heritage and the protection of heritage and convince them to actively participate in the protection and preservation of a traditional identity of Maramureş. But so far, the landscape is increasingly showing a modernization of architecture, while many – although not all – residents prefer modern houses for Maramureş. The people of Maramureş do want to preserve its traditional identity, but want to combine this in their everyday lives with comfortable houses in new and modern styles of architecture – which will be discussed in later chapters in more detail. These different perceptions, interpretations and materializations of the identity of Maramureş stand in contradiction and form a clash with the frames of the heritage protectors, resulting in negotiations and contestations over the identity of Maramureş, these politics of place being played out in the three arenas.

In order to bring about a transformation in the minds and actions of the people of Maramureş, bringing their perceptions of spatial identity and spatial practices in accordance with a traditional Maramureş, the heritage protectors connected firstly mainly with actors and institutions in Maramureş, including political authorities and media. But when the local heritage protection actors however realized that their aims were hardly feasible due to the obstacles that they met, they started to build connections and relations throughout Europe and the rest of the world. Hereby, they build new relations with other actors and places and established new connectivities between Maramureş and other places. Hereby, they aimed to incorporate Maramureş in networks of actors and places for channeling cooperation and resources to assist them in preserving the heritage of Maramureş. Most importantly, they aimed to bring in actors with abilities and positions outweighing those of already participating actors, strengthening the position of the heritage protectors in mainly the political arena and thereby making the aim of heritage protection more feasible. Here, actors as UNESCO could be thought of, and the EU, as well as other national governments and CIAV; all institutions and organizations with who are built relations with, to – among other things – increase pressure on the authorities. So, when relations of short distance (e.g. with the authorities of Maramureş) did not provide them with the support they hoped for, the heritage protectors started to establish relations and interconnections over longer distances (e.g. with the authorities of Norway). The cultural heritage protectors concerned with upholding and establishing a traditional outlook of Maramureş thus use, build and exploit flows, relations and interconnections of increasing distance (i.e. ‘length of relation’) to reach their aims. That cultural heritage protectors establish such relations, shows how the contestedness of spatial identity and spatial practice form a driver of the refashioning of relations and the building of interconnections between places. They create networks 119

of relations of increasing distance in which the place-conflict becomes embedded and which are employed to reach the aim of a traditional landscape in Maramureş. Hence, this lengthening of the relations and establishing of the networks in which the place-conflict is embedded and played out, has made the politics of place transgress space. Hence, the landscape in Maramureş (i.e. place) is re- made by these (and other) sets of interrelations and the practices that stem from these networks, while place is basically the sum of relations: place is relational.

Woods and McDonagh (2011) argue that globalization transforms places by restructuring the relations that form places, ranging from social, to economic, cultural and political relations. But another important aspect of globalization are the institutional transformations that make it possible for connections ‘to be made across increasing distances in increasingly less time and with increasing frequency’ (Woods and McDonagh, 2011). Such institutional transformations like telecommunications, the re-organization of political institutions and co-operation in EU-countries and aviation innovations make possible the creation of the relations and interconnections that are created from and with Maramureş. Practices as the organization of three-day international conferences about vernacular architecture or the financing and developing of projects in which different national governments participate would be hardly possible without such time/space compression. At the other hand, as much as the so-called ‘local’ might depend on the so-called ‘global’ processes, the ‘global’ is also ‘constructed through’ (Woods and McDonagh, 2011: 156) the ‘local’. The ‘global’ is but the sum of all long relations and globalization is about the refashioning relations across space. In the place-conflict on the landscape of Maramureş, the involved actors create and exploite relations. Besides, they lengthen networks and connectivities and thereby make the politics of place transgress space and refashion relations, like political relations. The politics of place in Maramureş forms thus an expression of globalization and exemplifies the active and agentic role of places in globalization. Hence, globalization proceeds by emplaced practices of building relations and connectivities rather than as an abstract, un-located force that enforces change upon localities. Places are agentic players in processes of place-making and globalization.

The formal representation of Maramureş as a traditional region is widespread and through constant repetition and confirmation, this representation of Maramureş has been successfully transformed into a strong place-identity. Authors as for example Stedman et al (2004) and Greidner and Garkovich (1994) argue the creation of such hegemonic representations of place testifies of power at the side of the actors behind such representations. Hence, such formal representations might – over time – prove to become more and more dominant and start to determine the perceptions of ‘normal’ outlooks and practices concerning a landscape for a far wider group of 120

actors. As such, such power-holding actors who initially were powerful in imposing a specific representation of place will likely be powerful in reshaping place, by transforming these symbols and meanings (i.e. place representations) in material realities in the physical environment (i.e. the landscape). Hence, such power-holding actors are theoretically expected to crystalize their discursive transformations of the landscape in material transformations of the landscape. However, the re- making of place in Maramureş never took place alongside these lines: the landscape did not conform to the formal representation more and more, but rather less and less. In other words, while the actors behind the formal representation had the ability to influence the framing of the formal spatial identity of Maramureş, they did not manage to also influence the spatial practices. Hence, the spatial identity and spatial practices went in opposite and conflicting directions: the formal representation portrays Maramureş in increasingly traditional terms, but the landscape and its architecture are increasingly modernizing. Although the heritage protectors seek to impact this trend, by changing the decisions of them that build, residents have so much room to move in the political and construction arena, that everyone can build whatever pleases them. Hence, the ability to impact the landscape is nót only with them that also have the ability to define the formal representation. Rather, some have the ability to set a representation and spatial identity, but not the ability to translate this into spatial practices and material realities. Yet, others have the ability to perform the spatial practices that they desire and to construct whatever they want, but do not have the ability to express their spatial identities and represent their architectural practices as ‘being of Maramureş’ – like the owners of modern houses. So, due to a lack of rules, regulations and the enforcement of existing rules and regulations; authority support; and a lack of financial resources, most programs of the heritage protectors have been rather unsuccessful and never came really any further than the stages of design. Hence, this results in the re-making of place through a complex politics of place: all actors conflict over the landscape discursively via the place-frames in the place-conflict, meanwhile – due to their material non-ability – they all act towards the landscape as pleases them. These diverse and uneven spatial practices result in the re-making of place and hence, in the current landscape of Maramureş: a heterogeneous, chaotic and multi-styled landscape, with both old and new houses, traditional styles and modern styles, rural styles and urban styles, fixated styles and altered styles – but labeled and represented as a traditional, homogeneous landscape, as the Land of Old and the Land of Wood.

Not only do the politics of place intend to have material effects, but as well discursive effects, while the place-conflict also is about the transformation of the identity and meaning of place (Woods, 2007). As such, the formal representation should not only been regarded as to attempt to dominate the rural landscape and associated spatial practices in material sense, but as well in 121

discursive sense. The attention given to Maramureş in networks of cultural heritage protection and tourism contribute to its discursive transformation and new place-meanings and spatial identities become attached to the region. Increasingly, Maramureş is and becomes through such networks of heritage protection and tourism embedded in global interconnectivities and as such, actors from all these interconnected places participate in the politics of this identity formation and contribute to the re-making of place (Woods, 2007). As such, within these networks and in continuous (conflictual) interaction between its actors, the formal representation of a traditional identity of place is created and continually reconstructed. Meanwhile, while this spatial identity is spread in the global sphere, through these very interconnectivities and relations, Maramureş acquires a widespread fame and reputation as ‘thé traditional region of Romania’. Meanwhile, place relations not only matter to the spatial identity of Maramureş because of its formation and fame, but as well to the contents of place-meaning, while spatial identities are increasingly defined in reference to place (Woods, 2007). Here, Maramureş becomes defined for example as: ‘the heart and soul of rural Romania’, or as the ‘last peasant culture of Europe’. Besides, Maramureş is represented as being closed off the world, a fully unique reserve of tradition and authenticity which is fully different from other places, the side of heritage and of the preservation of history. Hence, these place-identities stress the uniqueness of Maramureş as being defined by its enclosedness, by being a bounded area, closed of the world, having its history as an integral part of its present, which didn’t change over centuries and which is. However, - as a relational approach to place stresses – places are processes, never static, but always changing; they are, as Massey calls them ‘space-time trajectories’ or ‘temporary constellations’ (Pierce et al, 2011 and Massey, 2004a). Places are crosslinks in time-space constellations, but exist as such only temporary and thus change constantly. As such, place is never static, unchanged for ages, closed off the world, nor forgotten by time, as the formal representation would like us to belief. Neither have places boundaries, they are not effectively close off the world, but are always the outcome of interaction with other places through interconnectivities and relations. Neither are places the outcome of ‘internalized histories’. So, although the wooden churches, the symbols as being ‘representative components’ selected to represent Maramureş are represented as unique for Maramureş, they are anything but exclusive for Maramureş. Wooden churches common in Transsylvania and areas around Maramureş, showing that indeed places are no enclaves but exist in relation, interaction and exchange. These influences are visible as well in other architectural elements of the churches of Maramureş, like the fact that the paintings have influences from Byzantine and Western styles. Hence, the re-making of place is a relational process. 122

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Chapter 6: Migration in Maramureş

This chapter discusses the second of the three dynamics behind landscape transformation in Maramureş: migration. It deals chronologically with the trends that appeared in migration in Maramureş. Besides, this chapter discusses how these trends of migration affected residing, architecture and as such the landscape of Maramureş. It also elaborates in more detail on values of comfort, social status, perspectives of modernization and the place-conflict. 124

6 Migration in Maramureş

6.1 Migration and Landscape Transformation before the Revolution

The place-conflict focusses solely on the material transformations in the architecture of Maramureş after the 2000s, creating the image that until then the landscape of Maramureş was characterised by traditional houses and traditional styles of architecture. However, although the place-conflict totally ignores this, already since the 1950s, there have appeared several different new styles of architecture in the landscape, which gradually replaced the traditional, wooden houses. In the place- conflict, the proponents of a traditionalist Maramureş state that the appearance of and the desire for a modern Maramureş started after the Revolution in 1989, due to migration. But, as this chapter will show, the phenomenon of migration and subsequently its impact on people’s lives and residing, is rooted deep in the historical livelihoods of the people of Maramureş, way before the Revolution and even communism. Hence, the modernisation-frame and the current landscape transformations can only be understood properly when contextualized in this historical perspective. Therefore, this chapter will discuss how the dynamic of migration has impacted the landscape of Maramureş materially and discursively since the 1950s until now and how it relates to the place-conflict.

6.1.1 From Wood to Brick: the 1950s and 1960s Some say that Maramureş is the Land of Wood since their foreign emperors did not allow the people of Maramureş to build in stone and that over the centuries this wooden architecture has hit back as long-lasting symbols of the pride and resistance of Maramureş against any oppression – even the oppression of time (see for example: Muica and Turnock, 1999; Moraru et al, 2011; and Maramureş Info Tourism, n.d.). Maramureş thus represented, is the Land that never gives up its identity and the Land of never receding traditions: the Land of Old. But although the formal representation would like us to believe that Maramureş always was fond of its traditions, from the 1960s onwards, its architecture reflects that Maramureş found it about time for something else: modernization. Besides, the formal representations would also like us to believe that Maramureş has always had a homogenous landscape of traditional wooden houses, al styled like the houses as we nowadays can hardly find in the villages, but only in the ethnographic museums, i.e. the traditional houses defined in a ‘narrow’ sense, the once that were built in the 18th and 19th centuries. The romanticising assumptions circling dominant representations on the Maramureş’ landscape, that in the past the landscape of Maramureş was rather homogenous are off course untrustworthy. The Maramureş’ landscape was very divers in the sense that different ethnographic lands used to live in very different 125

styles of homesteads as well (see chapter 5, Image 11). Besides, socio-economic differences between people have always caused houses and properties to differ in sizes and aesthetics, also in the past. This is very visible when the large 18th and 19th century houses that are preserved in the ethnographic museums are compared to the houses that either still stand in the villages or are told about, by the local elderly. Differences between people in social ranking, i.e. concerning status and socio-economic positioning, determined not only differences between the sizes of properties but also between the aesthetics of houses and annexes, like for example the decorations of the houses, the interiors and the woodcarvings and sizes of the gates. Some wooden houses from the 1950s for example that belong to farmers from higher social classes have beautifully painted ornaments on the ceilings, while the houses of poor peasants measure sometimes only three by four meters and are not decorated at all.

During the Second World War, the Jewish population of Maramureş was taken away by the Nazi regime and the people that returned or remained almost all migrated out to Israel in the late 1940s. Their former properties and land came to be of local farmers, who then became the new rich farmers of the village. The socio-economic differences between villagers were visible in their houses and related properties as the gates: theses were larger and more decorated, some so large that these are still very liveable and actually used nowadays by small families. Over the years, the wooden houses changed in architecture, due to the availability of new sources of income and newer materials. As such, the architecture of the wooden houses changed drastically over the decades, from the 1950s until now: the windows became larger; the shutters disappeared; the rooms became larger; the division of the rooms more practical and many made a small hall between the two rooms; the roof made of wooden shingles (i.e. șindrilă) was in the 1970s replaced for an asbestos roof and the houses gained a gutter; new window frames became available and were aplied; the verandas changed of appearance and gained new covers, later also made of asbestos roofing; iron chimneys are placed on the roods; etcetra. Often, the people kept following new materials and trends and made all sorts of modifications to their houses, often very practical and pragmatic. The result of all these modifications was a range of what can be called‚ ´neo-traditional styles’, creating a mosaic of ´traditional´ houses, all of wood, but non similar, a broad range of styles and applications of the old idea of wooden houses (see Image 15). As we saw before, in the place-conflict, these neo-traditional styles trigger debate over the question whether these houses should still be regarded traditional houses or not. Many heritage protectors regard these kind of modifications of houses as violating the principles of the true identity of Maramureş, while the owners of the houses rather follow their pragmatism and adapt their houses according to their needs and desire for more comfort or necessary repairs. Until the late-1960s, it was still very common to build a wooden house. Thereafter, 126

Image 15: Neo-traditional styles of architecture; the style of first brick houses; and ‘fake’ attics in roofs

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people were more likely to build houses of stone, but the buying, modifying and building of wooden houses continues until today; although today the phenomenon of buying and renovating of old wooden houses for the purpose of residence is especially employed for the purpose of tourism and leisure as we will see in the next chapter.

Migration is an old phenomenon in Maramureş. Vasilecu (2012) writes that the analysis of the dynamics of migration in Maramureş in a historical perspective, has revealed that migration has been a common practice for the people of Maramureş already since the 15th century. Agricultural incomes, which have always been the most important source of income for the villages in the rural areas of Maramureş, have long been diversified by other sources of incomes and migration has been the most important strategy for people to do so. During communism, when the communists invested heavily in the creation of an economy based on forestry and mining, many men from Poienile Izei worked in the mines of Băiuţ and some also in forestry. Agriculture in Poienile Izei was not collectivized, unlike some other villages in Maramureş and the villagers diversified their rather low incomes from agriculture with incomes from migration. At the end of the 1960s, a phenomenon of memorable impact on the Maramureş landscape appeared: the first brick houses were built. These houses replaced the wooden houses which were often very small for families who lived there with entire families, i.e. grandparents, parents and children, in only two rooms, of which only one room was used, because the other room was only used for weddings and funerals – if the house had two rooms to start with. Families started to desire more rooms for more comfort and privacy and easier lives. Besides, brick houses were regarded cheaper, because the material was cheaper, but also because brick lasts longer, since wood is subject to decay over time. While in the later 1960s and 1970s the first brick houses started to appear, in this period people also still built with wood, although in a style totally different from the traditional wooden houses, as will be discussed later. So, while in the place-conflict the focus lays on the last ten/fifteen years, one could thus argue, as some local residents do, that the wood civilization of Maramureş started to disappear in the period of 1965-1975, rather than after the Revolution.

6.1.2 The Impact of Communism and Migration on Housing: the 1970s and 1980s As said, in the place-conflict, the focus lays very much on the last decade as being the decade of significant architectural transformation that threatens the identity of Maramureş as the Land of Wood. International migration is then pointed at as the prime and only driver of this transformation. When reference is made to the period before the Revolution, in order to examine whether this period also contributed to current landscape transformation phenomena, migration is not examined at all, but what is discussed in the impact on communism. That is, the non-impact of communism, 128

because most believe that communism did not really impact architecture in Maramureş as in other parts of Romania, were the communist policies of sistematizare aimed at the restructuring and replanning of cities and rural areas (Turnock, 1991). While in cities as Bucharesţi and Cluj Napoca entire historical centres were destroyed and replaced by modern centres, the impact of communism policies of systematization in Maramureş is said to be rather modest or even absent:

‘The villages of Maramureş represented an island of strength in terms of traditional authenticity. (…) They survived two world wars and the communist regime, but are about to disappear after only fifteen years of democracy.’ (Muntean, 2007: 81, my translation)

Democracy is seen as the problem, not communism, because by opening up to the West, modernization came in and the traditions and authenticity ceased. Also blogger Ciprian Mihali believes that communism is not the driver of change, but rather international migration, started after the Revolution. He states that local traditions could survive because they were tolerated and that communism hardly changed the region and its local architecture (Mihali, 2011). Some academic authors and regional architects argue on the contrary that the communist regime did try to influence architecture in Maramureş as well, but that the local authorities tried to seek a balance between the strict rules and desire for modernization by the communist regime and the negative consequences for the people, as the state seizure of property and when they did not have sufficient financial means to meet the standards (Turnock, 1999 and Muica and Turnock, 1999). Such building standards included the rule that new houses should have two floors. To come forward to the people, local authorities allowed this second floor to be an attic, according to architects, this attic sometimes was a ‘fake’ attic, as in Image 15. During communism, also new materials were introduced, like asbestos roofs and bricks or building blocks for the walls, sometimes covered with cement plastering (Muica and Turnock, 2000). Muica and Turnock (2000) argue that brick was especially used when wood was difficult to obtain or not available. Moreover, they argue that these flexible rules allowed the people to continue to apply the vernacular style of the past in the new constructions. So, clearly in the place- conflict there exists the perception that the modernization-frame has its roots in the period after the Revolution and not during communism. On the contrary, communism is rather perceived as area of protection for the architecture of Maramureş.

Yet, the residents of Poienile Izei perceive this differently. They claim that the architectural transformations started already before the Revolution, when villagers left very regularly to work in other regions of Romania. Hence, according to them, communism might not have had a direct impact, but an indirect impact on the architecture of Maramureş, mediated through migration. The coerced collectivization of agriculture in the 1960s causes a wave of migration from the villages of 129

Image 16: The style of architecture typical for the 1970s

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Maramureş. Not only do the people of Poienile Izei work in the mines and forests in Maramureş, they also work in other regions in Romania. Collectivization attempts in several villages in Maramureş fail, due to resistance and due to the fact that the hilly landscape of many villages are unsuitable for large scale agriculture. But in other areas of Romania, the landscape is very suitable for such large scale agriculture and state farms attract workers from Maramureş to work during the harvest seasons in agriculture. Also, teams of workers go to work in forestry and mining in other areas of Maramureş. While this phenomenon started with the 1960s, it initially takes a slow start in Poienile Izei were people work their own land and complement incomes with additional jobs within Maramureş and with seasonal jobs of men in other parts Romania. People are paid in money or in production, i.e. a share of the harvest, which they use to feed their livestock. From the mid-1970s onwards and during the 1980s, migration accelerates and many people go to work other parts of Romania, of which Timişoara, in the South-West, is the main destination. Especially in those last decades before the Revolution, migration by couples becomes a common phenomenon, who migrate in order to make the money necessary to build a house. The people that visit other areas of Romania and return bring back with them new ideas and perceptions about residing. They saw different styles of houses and now want to apply whatever they liked and found appealing about these houses to their own homes. During the 1970s, a new style of architecture appears in the landscape, a style very typical for this particular decade (see Image 16). These houses have three floors, a basement of stone, with on top a house of wood with three rooms and a ‘fake’, i.e. a not used attic and an asbestos roof. Although in this decade there were also people who already started to build brick houses, still many people built with wood, mainly because wood was easily available. Back then, people just went to the forests around the village to cut trees for the houses or used wood from the forest industry were they worked. Besides, many people used the wood from the wooden houses that they just demolished in order to construct this new house instead. So, older generation often preferred to still use wood to build with, also because everyone used to build exactly the same house from one and the same design, which made it much easier and cheaper to build. But new generations have new desires and with the advance of the 1980s, many young couples went to the South of Romania to work for several months to bring together the money for a new and much more modern house. Besides, inspired by the houses in this very different part of Romania, they applied new ideas and new architectural styles (like for example roofs that better let down the rainwater), new materials and building techniques; and by the same effect of ‘neighbouring’ as in the 1970s, they introduced a totally new style of architecture in the landscape of Maramureş. As such, also the 1980s has its own characteristic style, a style of housing which was still built in the early-1990s (see Image 17). These houses are usually larger, but vary very much in size and are built out of blocks and are – if its owners have sufficient money – plastered. 131

Image 17: The style of architecture typical for the 1980s

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The houses have also asbestos roofing and have two floors, up the basement, which are really both used for residence, and have again a ‘fake’ attic which is somehow turned into a fixed style element. So, the national migration during the communist era influenced the sizes, styles and exteriors of the houses of Maramureş. The interiors of the houses remained rather untouched, although the houses gained more rooms; they did not yet gain facilities like indoor bathrooms and modern kitchens. And like in traditional houses, the phenomenon of separate rooms for cooking, living and sleeping is also rather absent. The additional rooms are often used for storage or by separate families, i.e. grandparents from the younger generation, or to have separate bedrooms for the children.

Already in the decades before the Revolution, we see a phenomenon that will be even stronger later, but appear already back then: socio-economic differentiation between those that migrated and those that have to stay, e.g. because they have no one to look after the children while they are gone. Already in the 1970s and 1980s, the ‘traditional’ wooden houses start to become symbols of poverty, while houses become more and more status symbols and indicators of income. Larger houses symbolize larger incomes and as such, houses become indicators of socio-economic wellbeing. Very often, it is said that people in Maramureş want to build large houses because it indicates how much they have compared to their neighbours, i.e. it is a direct symbol of their status. Houses are not only a very visible mark for socio-economic differences between villagers, but also between villages. Poienile Izei is a rather isolated and remote village as compared to some much more central village, which historically have been richer and much more connected. The town Bogdan Voda is a good example of such less remote place, where the houses of the 1980s are certainly very recognizable and of comparable style, but at the same time much larger and much more fancy and decorated. Also now, in the early 2010s, the appearance of contemporary architecture in such places is much more prevalent than in remote places as Poienile Izei.

To come back to the discussion on the role of communism in the architectural changes in Maramureş, the perspectives are clearly different. While in the place-conflict most actors argue that communism has hardly anything to do with the architectural transformations of the region, some local residents employ a different perspective. They believe that communism is related to the changes, because communism was all about desiring and promoting the modern. These residents argue that, although communism maybe did not have a direct impact on their houses, communism did have an indirect impact, since communism has the spirit of modernization, of doing away with what is traditional. Communist policy did not force the people of Maramureş to adapt their houses directly, but it did impact other regions by the systematization policies and while the people of 133

Maramureş visited these regions and were amazed by its modernity and applied some of its ideas and styles back home, communism had an indirect impact on residing in Maramureş.

6.1.3 Conclusion: Migration and Landscape Transformation In the perspective of the frames within the place-conflict that favour a traditionalist Maramureş landscape, the current landscape of Maramureş is portrayed as consisting of very new and very modern houses, i.e. houses of a style after the late-2000s. Besides, within these place-frames, the material landscape transformations are portrayed as being recent of character, that is of the last decade rather than a transformative trend that is much older. As the preceding paragraphs have shown, the transformations of landscape of Maramureş are going on much longer. Local residents on the contrary, argue that the landscape started to modernize and move away from its rootedness in the ‘civilization of wood’ already during the late-1960s and early-1970s. Also concerning the impact of migration and communism, the perspectives differ. While some argue that migration and communism have nothing to do with landscape transformation, the local residents claim that it is exactly due to migration in the era of communism, that modernization could reach the village and impact the way people resided. From the 1960s onwards, the modernization-frame started to form itself, while people moved around within and between counties and exchanged their ideas about residing, styles of architecture, techniques of building, aesthetics, comfort, etcetera. Meanwhile, this also worked the other way around, because the modernization-frame also motivated people to migrate, as we saw in the 1980s: migration motivated people to migrate in order to bring together the money necessary to build houses, while at the same time, this also influences perspectives and styles in return.

So, although within the place-conflict, the styles of architecture that appeared between the 1950s and 2000s are ignored, they still form the most important part of the landscape, while these houses account for the largest share of the built landscape. Meanwhile, most ‘new’ houses from the early-2000s are actually houses from the 1980s and 1990s, which are renovated and updated towards the new styles, as we will see in the coming paragraphs. What is also true for these newer houses, as for the houses before the Revolution, is that they are indicators of wealth and symbols of status. This is what was discussed before about the wooden architecture in general: houses (and gates) are identity markers, not only for the region Maramureş, but are as well symbols of distinction between residents. The transformation of the built landscape from small wooden houses via several styles to increasingly larger houses is thus as well a transformation of place-symbols; not only concerning the meaning of the place Maramureş as a symbol (i.e. the transformation of place- identity), but very much as well the transformation of the house as a symbol for the wealth and 134

status of its owners and for issues of comfort, modernity and well-being. Old wooden houses came to symbolize poverty, backwardness and uncomfortable living conditions; while the new, large houses symbolize wealth, comfort, modernity and well-being. As such, the material landscape transformation of the houses is very much discursive as well, in the sense that place-meanings are changing: the emotions and feelings attached to places and their symbols changed alongside the architecture of the houses.

6.2 Migration and Landscape Transformation after the Revolution

6.2.1 The First Years After the Revolution: the 1990s Until the mid-2000s The fall of the communist regime in 1989 had dramatic consequences for the economy of Maramureş and drastically restructured the income opportunities of the people of Maramureş. The privatization of state properties meant that migration within Romania for work in mining, forestry and agriculture was brought to an end. People then had to search for new ways of diversifying their incomes, while agriculture was still providing insufficient to bring together enough income. By now many men work in the construction industry, again migrating all over Maramureş and to other regions in Romania as well, but mainly across the borders of Romania while the phenomenon of international migration became possible with the opening of the borders due to the Revolution. Also after the Revolution, the remoteness of Maramureş in the Romanian economy endured and investments remained out, so that many people, especially of the younger generations, started to leave the rural areas and move to the cities of Maramureş and to large urban centres of Romania as Cluj Napoca. Also many more young people started to move to the cities for higher education, like to the high-schools and universities in Sighet, Baia Mare and Cluj Napoca. After their studies, they stay in the cities were they find jobs that do not exist in Maramureş. Hardly any of them return, although some that cannot find jobs there do, and as such, the younger generation in Poienile Izei is very small. This trend of urbanization had profound consequences on the rural areas of Maramureş. Poienile Izei is said to have lost many residents, even so much that the local people call it one of those villages of Maramureş that is ‘disappearing’. Many people leave and hardly anyone returns, while the birth rates are very low. This phenomenon impacted the landscape heavily, while the houses of all those former residents, which were often traditional styled wooden houses, were all demolished. While once the village was much larger, formed by wooden houses, scattered all over the hills, it now is much smaller and a collection of large concrete houses, all clustered around the village centre. In the first years after the Revolution, in the 1990s, Maramureş went through a stage of rapid modernization, in which traditions as the wearing of costumes and the folkloric festivals and music almost disappeared. The locals explain this by referring to the large difference that existed 135

between the communist times and the times after the Revolution. When people started to migrate to the cities and even over the borders, or when the TV started to broadcast other programs that the programs strictly regulated by the regime, they were confronted with modernity and new values. Especially young people, they say, were eager to follow these modern standards as new houses and modern music rather than the old traditions. While in the first years after the Revolution, migration was mainly temporary of character and not yet as long-term of character as it is now, Maramureş modernized very quickly. In the late 2000s, the traditions would be re-appreciated and would recover their role in the villages of Maramureş, mainly due to tourism, as the locals argue, as will be elaborated in more detail in chapter 7.

Due to the collapse of national migration, the lack of income diversification opportunities in Maramureş, the weak economy of Maramureş and the opening of the borders, a second wave of migration advances: international migration. In the first decade after the Revolution, this international migration is rather exploring of character and operates often via networks of family and friends. Back then, Romania is not part of the European Union and it is not easy to gain visa and the costs of migration are often high. Hence, the phenomenon of international migration is not very common and most people migrate only temporarily. Nonetheless, migration still is very important for incomes in Maramureş and in this period, important networks are established between Romania and the South and West of Europa. France, for example, is already then an important and favourite destination and so is Italy. But the people of Maramureş, as ever, do not have one fixed destination and their broad range of destinations is reflected in many different ideas about styles of architecture that they bring back with them. Since the locals often build the houses themselves, or have them build by people they know personally, they have their own ideas of aesthetics and style applied quite easily to their house. As such, whatever they saw on other houses, like in regions or countries where they have been, is now applied to the houses in Maramureş. Again, the application of new materials appears in the landscape and houses are plastered with (bright) colours. Remarkable is especially the reintroduction of wood as an element in the cornices or balconies of houses, wood disappeared totally in the 1980s from houses. While people migrate to different places, locals claim that the multiplicity of the styles in the village is a direct consequence of the multiplicity of migration destinations. But migration not only influences styles, most importantly, it makes available the money that people need to build and renovate houses. Because in those years after the revolution, in the 1990s and early 2000s, the building of new houses is a far less common phenomenon, than the phenomenon of renovating and modernizing of existing houses. These houses are enlarged; their exteriors are beautified by adding plastering, sometimes with colours, or by adding balconies, etcetera (See Image 18 for examples hereof). Also interiors of houses are adapted, based on values 136

and ideas about comfort that people have seen in other countries and of TV. Many women for example work as housekeepers for rich families in France and Italy and have seen beautiful villas with very comfortable living conditions and beautiful interiors. Yet, the main changes to the interiors of houses are said by locals to be due to tourism, as will be discussed in chapter 7. Concerning the renovation of existing houses, this trend started in the 1990s and still endures. The small brick houses from the 1960s and 1970s and the houses of the 1980s were enlarged to the size that most houses after the 1990s have: two floors and about an average of eight rooms. The houses were often plastered, received new roofs and were in the end so modernized that yet another style appeared and the former houses disappeared behind this new outlook. (See Image 18 for examples of such modernized houses). Two things have to be noted here. Firstly, by far not all houses have gone through such modernization and that as such, many houses from the 1960s, 1970s and 1980s still stand untouched in the landscape. Secondly, this modernization of houses is still going on, because still, many people do choose to enlarge or modernize their house rather than to build a new house.

6.2.2 International Migration in the late-2000s and early 2010s With the accession of Romania to the European Union in 2007, a third wave of migration advances in Maramureş. This time, migration increased stronger than ever before and while migration from Maramureş used to be mainly temporary of character, now it is more and more for far longer periods or even permanent as well. Three features are important to understand this phenomenon: (1) migration within Europe has become much easier; (2) migration has evolved into a habit of income diversification of the people of Maramureş and (3) migration is a reaction on the socio-economic situation that characterizes the transition period (Vasilescu, 2012). Hence, especially young people to foreign countries leave, due to high unemployment rates, the bad economic conditions and the fact that young generations do not longer take over the family farms of their parents. Two types of migration should be distinct: long-term migration (and permanent migration) and short-term migration (i.e. seasonal migration). The main occupations in which Romanian work abroad are agriculture, constructions and housekeeping (Balan, n.d.).

Firstly, migration in the late 2000s and early 2010s takes more often the form of long-term and permanent migration. Many young people leave for a diversity of destinations in Europe to work there for several years, but actually did not yet return after being away for many years and it has to be seen if they ever return. Popular destinations are Italy and Spain, but also include France, England, Holland, England, Germany and Greece. The money that they earn by migration is often not invested in the creation of an economy back home, but is mainly invested in building large houses, or in buying expensive cars and modern electronica, etcetera. These houses are built on return or during 137

short leaves or by families or via systems of remittances. As discussed before, because many men work in constructions and because people work in a broad range of destinations, many different styles are said to appear in the landscape. Migrants return with ideas not only about styles, but also about techniques of construction. In the case that the migrants built their own houses when they are on leave, their houses stand unfinished in the village, often for many years. This is a very common phenomenon in Maramureş, not only because migrants are not home to live in their house; but as well because people start to build houses but never finish, because they never return, or because they do not have the money to finish. In this last case, the unfinished houses are tried to be sold again, like via internet, where exists a serious market for such houses. Another manner of creating houses is via remittances. Migrants sent money to their families, who invest this in renovating their house or in constructing new houses, with the purpose to have a modern and fashionable house available in case the migrants return to the village. While the amounts of money migrants make in Southern and Western countries of Europe, as compared to the value of such money in Romania, is often quite extensive, the houses they built are also large. By the 2010s, people start to construct houses up to three or even four floors high and of many rooms (see for example Image 18). Yet, only few of these rooms are used and the houses are often only partly furnished and people often do not even intend to complete the whole house. Some migrants explain that they do not know how else to invest migration money but in a large house, since besides it is normal to build according to the prevailing standard (i.e. fashion), which currently exists in these large and colourful houses. Hence, here again the impact of the socio-economic diversification comes in, whoever has money needs to make this visible and residence is the prime symbol of expression of wealth. However, it is important to stress that not all locals are so concerned with this issue. While many people built large houses and are very concerned herewith, others assert not to understand the logic behind large houses. They pragmatically argue for the much smaller and more modest styles preceding the mid-2000s, claiming that to build rooms you do not need is a waste of money and effort. Besides, many people cannot afford to build such large houses, even though migration might be part of their incomes as well. Many people use the money they earn with migration for other purposes than for their houses and have no money left but for necessary repairs to their house, or for fancy modifications, no matter how much they might like to make those. A common use of migration money next to constructions is the education of children.

For such income diversification in the late-2000s and early-2010s, still seasonal migration is employed as well, mainly by the older generations that still own farms in the rural areas of Maramureş. As discussed, many men now work in constructions all over Maramureş and also in other parts of Romania. Some of them are still involved in agricultural activities in other regions of 138

Image 18: Examples of modernized houses (the two above) and of new houses of the late-2000s and early 2010s

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Romania, but this is a very minor sector since the Revolution and the privatization of state farms. A new phenomenon since the Revolution and especially the mid-2000s is the seasonal migration of women in agriculture in Western Europe. They travel mainly in groups, often organized by a mediator, to Germany mainly and Holland, to work in agriculture. Since they have farms, they often leave only during the spring or autumn, and have created systems of reciprocity to help each other out with the agricultural activities at home. A woman helps her neighbour, for example, with planting potatoes during the spring, so that the other will help her family with harvesting the crops while see has left. The impact of these forms of migration on the incomes of people as compared to migrants who stay away for years is off course rather small. As such, this type of migration is actually just meant to bring in the income that people would otherwise lack and is used for all sorts of aims in their daily lives, ranging from spending on houses, farms and guesthouses to spending on their children’s education and weddings. Migration as such is still a very common and very important source of income diversification in Maramureş, although many people also have found a new income source in tourism, which makes that a share of the villagers, does not have to leave, as we will see in the next chapter. Besides, a share of the villagers has paid jobs next to their farms, but this is true only for a very small minority of the residents.

The socio-economic differences between people are often made visible in the houses in which they live, whether they made this income by migration, tourism or via other channels. In the late-2000s and early-2010s, the sizes of the houses in Maramureş started to increase drastically, although the houses in Poienile Izei are rather modest and smaller as compared to other villages that are less remote. Many new materials are introduced, like plastics and stainless steel. A very common characteristic for the last few years is the replacement of the asbestos roofs by the red roofs. While in the 1990s and early-2000s, wood seemed to re-appear as an element of beautification on houses, the role of wood seems to change again. Still, wood is used in annexes (e.g. for small houses were grandparents live) or for veranda’s. But on the newest houses’ exteriors, wood is hardly used. However, wooden houses do seem to reappear as a new style, i.e. as a re-interpretation of the traditional houses, mainly for the purpose of tourism, as we will see in chapter 7. The disappearance of wood as major construction material for houses has several explanations, including that wood is more difficult to obtain and is more expensive than the modern construction materials. Hence, it is mainly used by wealthy people or in the tourist industry, as we will see in the next chapter as well.

6.2.3 Conclusion: Migration and the Place-conflict: Place-frames and Arena’s Elvădeanu and Ganea (n.d.) argue that the way in which people used one of the two rooms of the traditional wooden houses as a ‘best room’, i.e. for weddings and funerals only, is comparable to the 140

way that people now choose to construct large houses, that is: the function is the same, i.e. the size of the house is primarily symbolic, not functional. So, the size of the house is meant as a sign of wealth and used to show off this wealth. If you ask villagers why people from Maramureş built large houses, the answer usually is: because everyone wants a house larger than the neighbours. Houses are status symbols indeed and because wealthier people are capable of constructing larger houses than less wealthy people, houses become direct expressions of socio-economic differentiation. But not everyone lives in houses like these or wants to. And to say that every migrant builds a house like this to demonstrate accumulated wealth, is put way too simple. Houses are often regarded the most sustainable manner to invest such large sums of money as gained by working abroad; besides there hardly exists better ways to invest money in, although there are people who decide to start a business in the tourism industry as we will see later. Besides, there is the effect of style, or ‘fashion’ or ‘neighbouring’ as one might call it, which is important to note, because not everyone that builds a house like this is a migrant for many years, or is a migrant at all. The current style of building became the dominant architectural style of constructing and although many variations to this style exist, most people adhere somehow to this style when they build a new house – or to the styles dominant in the tourism industry, as we will see later. Commonly, people do so, following dominant styles rather than building in styles which are totally uncommon in landscapes. Besides, people built with new perceptions of comfort, modernity and well-being. Some families argue that, although now they do not need so many rooms, in the future they might, because their migrated children might return and come to live in the house with their children and should be able to live in the house with entire families, including grandparents. Besides, people say to build with eye for the future, in the sense that they might want to create a guesthouse in the house in the future, as we will see in the next chapter as well. So, a range of reasons is important to understand why the large houses appear in the landscape: (1) houses are status symbols; (2) houses are the most important objects to invest money in; (3) houses are built according to the prevailing style; (4) houses are built according to new understandings and definitions of comfort, modernity and well-being.

So, throughout the decades after the 1950s, influenced by practices of migration, peoples’ perceptions of residing started to transform. This transformation of spatial identity then accumulated into the modernization-frame, the perspective that argues that modernization of architecture and buildings is essential and necessary. It argues that modern styles and bright colours are aesthetically desirable, contrary to the identity-based place-frames. Throughout the decades this frame has seen different perspectives on what exactly is aesthetically desirable, exemplified in different styles that still stand in the landscape next to each other. These perspectives have been influenced by the practice of migration, which is so deeply integrated in the lives of the people of Maramureş, who 141

brought different styles from all over Romania and Europe back home and integrated into the landscape of Maramureş whatever they believed to be beautiful. The identity-oriented frames however believe that the modernization-frame lacks respect and appreciation for the traditions of Maramureş and for its vernacular architecture. On the contrary, the villagers in general and also the owners of the large, modern houses argue that they dó appreciate the traditional, wooden houses very much. Actually, many say to regret that these houses disappear from the landscape and some even intend not to sell these houses anymore, but to rather preserve the houses which are left. But again, these pragmatism-oriented frames act based from practical motivations: they find it rather impossible to live a family life in such small houses and prefer the more comfortable, modern houses. The modernization-frame thus argues that modern houses are necessary for a healthy and comfortable life, which fits the needs of modern people. In their opinion, the wooden houses symbolize a life that cannot be comfortable, easy and adhere to the needs of modern people, including for example sufficient room for families to live in and have modern kitchens and bathrooms, etcetera. Hence, note here again how the build landscape not only materially, but also discursively transformed: houses as symbols have transformed.

The formal representation appropriated the landscape of Maramureş as if the modern architecture is no part of the landscape in Maramureş. As such, the representation of the residents of such houses and the proponents of the modernization-frame is repressed from the formal representation of the landscape of Maramureş. Moreover, not only are the residents of modern houses not represented in the formal representations, they also form the group that is least represented in the place-conflict, that is, their voices and their opinions are least outspoken. The residents of modern houses are not represented by the media, while media are at the hands of heritage protection and tourism promotion. Some blogs and articles about the phenomenon of landscape transformation include as well the opinions of the modernization-frame proponents. Besides, some of them react on what is written and said opposing the modernization of architecture by e.g. posting reactions on such articles and blogs. Yet, these proponent of a modern Maramureş express themselves and take part in the place-contest mainly via the construction arena, by continuing to build modern houses and by introducing even more and different new styles, materials, techniques and applications of modern architecture. While the construction arena is as well the arena where exists most ability to actually influence the landscape in material sense, they are also very successful in having their voices heard, although not verbally but non-verbal. So, in the place- conflict, the owners of modern houses are hardly part of any conversations and discussions about the identity of Maramureş. Also all other styles in between the more traditional styles and the current modern styles (i.e. in between the 1950s and the 2000s) are unrepresented and absent from 142

discussion in the place-conflict. As such, there hardly exists room for negotiation, approach and mutual understanding.

The shared pledge of the proponents of the identity-oriented frames and more specifically of the heritage protecting actors is to aggregate against all proponents of the modernization-frame and all residents that live in modern houses or propose to modernize and modify traditional wooden houses. In doing so, they do not aggregate in the sense of a debate, since the residents of the modern houses are not verbally involved in the place-conflict. Rather, the actors react on the modernization-frame as they themselves portray it: the people of Maramureş now appreciate modernization due to international migration, started after the Revolution; which caused the transformation of the landscape towards the introduction of the ugly large, modern, urban styled houses; and now the people of Maramureş don’t any longer appreciate the traditions and traditional architecture of Maramureş. All of this is, according to them, due to international migration, while tourism did not cause this, but rather is the solution to solve these problems – as we will see in the next chapter in more detail. As this chapter elaborated, the residents themselves have different perspectives hereon. It was already discussed that local residents stress the importance of regional and national migration, migration during communism and the fact that seasonal migration is (still) more important than long-term migration. Already in this chapter, some references were made to the role of tourism. The impact of tourism on houses is also rather absent from the place-conflict as contributing factor to the landscape transformations in Maramureş. However, tourism is the third of the dynamics that are important to understand landscape transformation in Maramureş and the related place-conflict and therefore, the next chapter will discuss this dynamic in more detail. Also concerning the appreciation of the preservation of traditions and traditional architecture, the residents of Maramureş have different perspectives. Indeed, the interconnectedness of Maramureş mediated the introduction of new styles of architecture to Maramureş. In the place-conflict, the opponents of these new styles argue that international migration channels the ideas that fuel change. However, what is neglected is that the flows established by mobility also are channels that bring ideas and values about the protection of cultural heritage. As such, not merely the proponents of the traditional Maramureş, but the migrants themselves have integrated recognition and appreciation for the protection of cultural heritage within the perspectives of the proponents of the modernization-frame. While traveling to distant localities, migrants have seen and visited many places were cultural heritage is protected, like towns and cities were entire historical centers have a protected status. This raised awareness among them and appreciation and they refer to these places when discussing their own heritage, stating that such places would be good examples for Maramureş to follow. So, unlike is often said in the place-conflict, they are not unconcerned with the local 143

heritage and migration is not only harmful for heritage. Rather, it also channels ideas about heritage protection.

As said, the proponents of the modern architecture are rather absent from the media-arena. Yet, this is one of the most important arena’s used by opponents of the modernization-frame to try to influence the perceptions of residents, by stressing the ugliness of modern architecture and colours and discussing the beauty and importance of traditional architecture. In disagreeing reactions hereon, often it becomes clear that ‘tradition’ and ‘comfort’ are two separate worlds for the proponents of the modernization-frame: many residents want modern and comfortable houses and believe that traditional houses do not offer this. Discussions and reaction panels on blogs, newspaper articles and other types of media usually not only include affirmations that state that indeed modern architecture is ugly and undesirable, but also add nuances and discussions on the cause and motivations of residents of modern houses. Such comments range from explanations on why it is so difficult to do otherwise and buy and live in traditional houses; via comments on why the phenomenon of colourful houses would be regarded ‘traditional’ instead of ‘modern’ if only it would have started of five-hundred years ago; to comments on how migrants build houses because they don’t know how else to invest the money, because ‘sadly’, no one advises them (Mihali, 2011). The media-arena is thus used to discuss the phenomenon of landscape modernization and mainly as a channel through which the opponents of landscape modernization try to convince the residents of Maramureş of the undesirability of modernization and the desirability of the preservation and inhabitation of traditional architecture. However, most residents of Maramureş prefer other types of spatial identity and practices and subsequently, other types of architecture and constructions while the traditional types of architecture are considered to be symbols of backwardness and the modern houses are associated with progress, comfort and modernity. Therefore, proponents of a traditional identity of Maramureş seek support of the authorities and try to influence the political arena, hoping in the first place to reduce the impact of architectural modernization on the landscape via legislative means and secondly, to stimulate resident to choose for traditional types of residence by making this more attractive for them via means as tax benefits.

However, no measures are taken whatsoever to limit the impact of the modernization of architecture on the landscape by the authorities. While in many Western countries political institutions and regulations regulate sizes and colours of houses etcetera, in Maramureş such measures are absent. This is not to say that the Romanian law does not specify any regulations concerning constructions at all. Recently, some regulations have been installed concerning the appropriate distance of houses towards roads, but new constructions in Maramureş are still build 144

very close to roads, not keeping any distance at all – and the checking and enforcing of these regulation seems to be rather absent as well. Increasingly, people concerned with the outlook of the landscape of Maramureş, including foremost cultural heritage protectors, call for stronger political institutions and more installation and application of both new and existing regulations concerning constructions. While recently, some political actors seem to realize the necessity of cultural heritage and the outlook of the landscape for (among other things) the development of a touristic business in Maramureş, it is not unlikely that some measures might be taken in the future. So, within the political arena the conflict over spatial identity and spatial practice in Maramureş is contested about by the means of prioritizing and as such, neglecting the call for heritage protection and protection of the outlook of the landscape via means as the assignment of budgets, the (non)enforcing of regulations, the willingness of participating in initiatives like distribution of free information about traditional architecture in city halls, etcetera. While civilians and non-governmental organizations pressure their authorities for action and even offer them initiatives, projects and programs, the authorities seem very reluctant to participate. Hence, this political game results in the legal vacuum that makes it possible for the proponents of the modernization-frame to build whatever and however they want.

In this respect, also the construction arena is of importance to the residents of modern houses. The construction arena is the main arena where they express their perspective on Maramureş most appropriate spatial identity and spatial practice. They do this by continuing to build modern houses and by introducing even more and different new styles, materials, techniques and applications of modern architecture. Here it is also relevant to stress the importance of mobility, while the flows and connectivities established by practices of migration make possible the introduction of new styles, techniques and materials. Many migrants from Maramureş work in constructions and as such, gain ideas about styles, they gain experience with different kind of techniques of construction and also see and experience other and new materials. This facilitates and contributes to the introduction of these in the landscape of Maramureş. Because of the legal vacuum, there hardly exist restrictions and the construction arena offers room for proponents of a modern Maramureş to advance their spatial identity and spatial practice by acting it out in the landscape. By far not all construction works in Maramureş are done by construction companies. Rather, very often, residents themselves or with help of neighbours or handy friends do construction works to their houses. This also makes that constructions are often more subject to these two trends than to the designs of architects: (1) the implementation of what owners have seen elsewhere, found appealing and now apply to their own house as well; and (2) there exists some social standards of desirability, indicating and guiding the styles of houses that are being build. These social standards 145

make that increasingly, people build modern houses, because everyone is doing so and such houses are symbols of status and accomplishment: who can build a modern house shows what (s)he accomplished socio-economically. Hence, many migrants build large and modern houses back home in Maramureş as symbols and indications of the money that they earned abroad. At the other hand, this phenomenon also makes that traditional, wooden houses are increasingly less popular, being symbols of backwardness and poverty. These social standards are important instruments in the construction arena, guiding the choices of people for styles of architecture and construction. Hence, these standards influence the contest in the construction arena, while they impact the decisions of people and connect up with the modern type of spatial identity/practice offered in the construction arena, competing with other types offered there, like neo-traditional types of spatial identity/practice offered by architects concerned with cultural heritage protection. Hence, within the construction arena different actors that offer – that is, design and build – certain types of architecture struggle for convincing residents about certain types of spatial identity and spatial practice. Clearly, the proponents of a modern Maramureş have a strong position and are capable to implant their architecture in the landscape, while their opponents are so-far unsuccessful in preventing this via the political arena, due to the legal vacuum and the unwillingness of authorities, nor via the media arena, by changing perceptions of residents.

6.3 Conclusion: Migration and the Politics of Place

This chapter has elaborated on migration as one of the dynamics behind the landscape transformations in Maramureş. It has shown that migration is a central dynamic of landscape transformation in Maramureş as well, because it drives two – interrelated – transformations of spatial identity and spatial practices, which fuel the place-conflict over the landscape of Maramureş: (1) the material transformation from the traditionalist wooden architecture to the nowadays modern, urban styled architecture – a transformation of spatial practices; and (2) the discursive transformation in which the people of Maramureş started to admire a more modern and comfortable Maramureş over a traditionalist Maramureş – a transformation of spatial identity. This discursive transformation crystalized in the modernization-frame, i.e. the perspective that modernization of architecture and constructions is essential, desirable and necessary. This discursive transformation in which Maramureş was discursively modernized went together in time with the discursive transformation in which Maramureş was discursively traditionalized, i.e. in which the formal representation of Maramureş was constructed and gained gradually more representative power. Hence, mobility is a central dynamic in the contested re-making of place, while firstly it transformed both spatial identity and spatial practice and secondly it contributed to the origination 146

of the place-conflict, by giving rise to the material conditions (i.e. the modernized landscape) that clashed with the dream of a traditional Maramureş.

Already before and especially after the Revolution, income diversification strategies have given rise to the increasing mobility of the people of Maramureş. Migrants from Maramureş have been establishing relations and connections have been stretching out throughout Romania and beyond, into Europe and lately also beyond Europe. By these new relations and connections, new assemblages are created and flows established that form channels for the mediation and transferring of people, goods, money, remittances, ideas, values and etcetera. It is in this way, through these flows, that mobility facilitates and contributes as well to the re-making of place in Maramureş. That is, mobility contributes to the transformation and re-definition of spatial identity and spatial practice, while mobility made possible as well the introduction of new ideas and values about architecture and residing, comfort, construction materials and construction techniques. These new ideas and values have contributed to the creation of a spatial identity of Maramureş in which Maramureş is not defined in terms of traditions and its on-going relation with the past, but rather as a modern place with comfortable lives and modern styles of architecture. Hence, new spatial practices as subsequent practices of modern types of construction and architecture go along with this new spatial identity, in which ‘modernity’ and ‘comfort’ are key-tags. Therefore, mobility and flows are integral to the politics of place, because the transformation that mobility brings about is a contested and negotiated processes as the place-conflict proves. The coming about of new forms of spatial identity and practices are a negotiated and conflicted process. In Maramureş, the very place-conflict is primarily and especially about the rise of this spatial identity and spatial practice of a modern Maramureş, while the central crux of the conflict is over the labels traditional versus modern Maramureş: which one is more desirable? As Woods (2007) argues, while globalization – that is, the intensification of interrelatedness – mediates and facilitates transformation, contestation of such processes of transformation, like conflicts over spatial identity are inevitable. Conflicts then also arise in places over what Woods (2009: 369) calls ‘the terms of engagement with globalization’, that is: place- conflicts arise over transformations that stem from interconnectedness and actors contest such outcomes. This is what happens in Maramureş as well, where the politics of place are thus a reaction on the new values and styles of residing that are present in the landscape during the last decades and which are introduced through a new type of spatial identity and practice that came co- constructed in the relations and connections established through the mobility of the residents of Maramureş. Once integrated in Maramureş, this new spatial identity and practice came to clash with other actors, their networks and their types of spatial identities and practices, like those traditional types of spatial identity/practice from the domains of heritage protection and tourism. Hence, the 147

place-conflict is a contest over the introduction of new styles of architecture, which in the opinion of the opponents of this architecture is brought in by migrants. Not at all are the opponents of modern architecture arguing against mobility, interconnectedness or globalization; but rather do they argue with the migrants to consider to use their remittances and earned money differently and to regard the beauty and importance of tradition and adapt their houses accordingly. Besides, rather than being opposed against globalization and rather than being in defence against the global, protection of the traditional outlook of Maramureş is very much motivated as well by logics of globalization, that is: for the sake of the benefits of tourism. As such, the politics of place in rural Maramureş is not a politics of resistance against globalization, but rather a contest over place-meaning and a politics of place that contests and negotiates the place’s involvement and engagement with globalization. Hence, this illustrates how places are not just victims, but also not centres of defence against the ‘powers of the global’. Rather, the ‘global’ and the ‘local’ stand ‘not in opposition to each other, but in negotiation’ (Woods and McDonagh, 2011: 156).

Places are multiplicities, as Massey argues, they never have one history, one story, one single identity, but are rather heterogeneous sets of several identities and groups with different understandings and experiences of their place. Besides, places are meeting points, intersections of shorter- and longer-distanced relations that stretch out over space and intersect in places. Hence, in Maramureş is at hand a multiplication and diversification of spatial identities and practices – differing in how they label and act towards the landscape, varying from modern to traditional. These different spatial identities and spatial practices were created by assemblages of actors, mediated via relations and flows created by mobility and practices as migration, but as well by the assemblages and networks of cultural heritage protectors, as we saw before and tourism actors, as we will see in the next chapter. Hence, different spatial identities and practices come to exist next to each other and through the politics of place, via the place-frames and in the arena’s, these spatial identities and practices are contested, negotiated about. Hereby, the landscape of Maramureş comes to be a multiplication and diversification of a plurality of spatial identities and spatial practices, as we will see in the next chapter in more detail.

Doreen Massey in her book For Space says under a map: ‘Ceci n’est past l’espace’ (Massey, 2005: 108): this is not space. What she tries to make clear is that a map is just a common, Western representation of space. Yet, a relational perspective to place wants to move away from territorial understandings of place, to relational understandings of place. Likewise, it is possible to say of Image 19: This is not Maramureş. Increasingly, social relations are stretched out over space and blur borders to such an extent that boundaries are erased and places become fluid. Places have no boundaries, 148

that is, they have no enclosures, while flows cross boundaries constantly. However, ‘Maramureş’ as a place-meaning is constantly constructed and the construction of social boundaries between ‘us’ and ‘them’ is an important part of such construction of spatial identity: who belongs to ‘Maramureş’ and who not, what does it mean to belong to ‘Maramureş’, what does ‘Maramureş’ symbolize? Let us discuss three processes of the construction of place-meaning in Maramureş. Firstly, ‘Maramureş’ is constructed via the formal representation, which seeks to represent Maramureş as unique and contradicted to other places. This specific spatial identity is defined close to territoriality and boundaries as well, demarcating ‘Maramureş’ on the geographical borders of district Maramureş. What belongs to Maramureş and not thus depends partly on territoriality. Besides, tradition, authenticity and history are important notions here, while the formal representation claims that ‘Maramureş’ is a mere continuation of its own and Europe’s peasant past. Whoever and whatever does not meet these standards thus is not of ‘Maramureş’. Secondly, within the politics of place in Maramureş, the place-conflict is about two opposed groups, desiring either a modern or a traditional ‘Maramureş’ with subsequent spatial identities and practices. The construction of social boundaries in this conflict is very present, while measures are designed, like sets of architectural rules that are used to distinct the house owners that may call themselves ‘as being of Maramureş’. Besides this, also the social standards of the desirability of constructions are important, because these indicate status and the social meaning of houses and inform residents’ decisions for types of constructions. There exist broadly two styles and two groups of residents: (1) modern and (2) traditional styles of residence. Firstly, modern houses are the prevailing fashion and there is social pressure to build such houses. Large, modern houses indicate what you have accomplished in live, indicate your financial well-being, indicate your work and life abroad and symbolize welfare and status. Within this group, traditional houses symbolize poverty and backwardness. Secondly, there is the group of people were traditional houses rather have a positive meaning and for whom the modern houses have a negative connotation. To them, the preservation of tradition, identity and traditional architecture is a higher goal and to own such a house a symbol of status. It is not cheap to buy and restore traditional houses and often, residents in this group are the wealthier residents or more often, tourists from other parts of Romania or abroad.

In the third place, in the everyday lives of the migrants of Maramureş, there also exist different perceptions of place, which also leads to differences in practices towards the landscape. There is a difference between those migrants that intend to return and those that do not intent to return. For the migrants that do not return, Maramureş is mainly the place where they were raised, where they come back for visits and where they have dear memories. As such, they often regret the fact that Maramureş has changed so much during the last two decades and has modernized so fast. 149

Image 19: This is not Maramureş 150

They do not longer find back the Land of their memories. The migrants that left with the intention to return, on the contrary, have different perceptions. Often, they do hope to return to a modernized place, because they left a place that was socio-economically underdeveloped and which they had to leave because it did not have anything to offer them. Therefore, they also build modern houses, either during vacations in Maramureş or by remittances, because their ultimate goal is a modern Maramureş were a modern and better life is waiting for them. Yet other migrants, like the students, who live in the cities of Romania, often do not want to return to Maramureş for the same type of reasons: in the cities is life far more vibrant, active, promising, modern and prosperous. So, for some Maramureş symbolizes an idyll, but for others it symbolizes backwardness. And while some like to return to Maramureş for holidays because it is the place ‘where time stands still’ and where people come to find rest and relaxation, others prefer the cities, because the villages of Maramureş are so ‘boring’ and ‘life stands still’. These different place-meanings are also the result of the increasing openness of place and the increasing interconnectedness of places. Due to globalization, as argued before, places no longer have coherent identities and become fluid: one location, different places; one Maramureş, yet a multiplied Maramureş. 151

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Chapter 7: Tourism in Maramureş

This chapter discusses the third and last of the three dynamics behind landscape transformation in Maramureş: tourism. It deals first with the phenomenon of tourism in general and discusses differing perspectives on tourism and the role of tourism in the modernization of Maramureş. Then the chapter elaborates on the impact of tourism on the architecture, landscape and of Maramureş and on the role of tourism in the transformation and diversification of landscape functions. Finally, the role of place-based development in the creation of the formal representation is discussed. 154

7 Tourism in Maramureş

7.1 Tourism and Landscape Transformation in Maramureş

7.1.1 Tourism in Poienile Izei Although already before the Revolution some people from all over Romania visited Poienile Izei, tourism in the village started mainly to advance after the Revolution. As such, the phenomenon of tourism in Poienile Izei started to take serious forms for about 15 years ago. While in the beginning only few guesthouses existed in the village, gradually more and more people started guesthouses. Some people started a guesthouse after visitors advised them to do so, stating that the music they made, or the architecture of the houses they owned, was very suitable for such exploitation. Yet others saw that their neighbours took in tourists and made quick money by doing so and decided do following their example. In about fifteen years, the number of guesthouse increased severely. Tourism in Poienile Izei takes mainly place during the period June to August and during Christmas and New Year. While during the summer also many foreign tourists visit the village, in the winter the large majority is from Romania. In general, the majority of tourists are from Romania, foreign tourists are from many different home countries, mainly France and Germany, but also from Portugal, Spain, Israel, Italy, Holland, America, Austria, Japan, and etcetera.

Exact numbers of guesthouses are unknown, while only few guesthouses have tourists on a regular basis and most houses are adapted to take in tourists. This happens especially on the special holidays like Christmas and Eastern, when the village is flooded with tourists and these guesthouses are unable to hosts every single one of them and all other guesthouses will take in people. As such, there exists a difference between the more formal guesthouses and the more informal guesthouses, of which some also do not have the required paperwork and certificates. The number of formal guesthouse ranges somewhere up to forty. While in the early 1990s only few guesthouses existed, now most houses are adapted to be able to take in tourists when needed. This is especially done as an additional source of income, just as migration. Yet, in the village exist only one or two guesthouses which have enough tourists each year to bring in sufficient income to provide a living based on the tourism industry only. So, income diversification is the main income for people to take in tourists. They see how others in the village make quick money during holidays and adapt their houses as well by adding some rooms like bathrooms, in order to make some extra income during holidays as well. Yet others are motivated differently, some locals want to show the traditions and 155

village life to the people from the cities and to foreigners. Others also try tourism as a strategy to preserve these traditions and handicrafts, by selling for example hand-woven tapestries.

For the owners of formal guesthouses, getting into the tourism industry is difficult, because it is hard to get all the required papers and certificates. Besides, to do so not only costs lots of time and intellectual effort, but also costs a lot of money. Often therefore, people migrate and use the money that they earned with migration to invest in creating guesthouses. Yet, for the guesthouse owners that take in tourists only occasionally, it is less difficult. They are often not in a hurry or do not even obtain all these papers and certificates. They proceed by what they call a ‘step by step’ approach and renovate bits and pieces at a time and often renovate only a few rooms instead of creating entire guesthouses. Besides, for the guesthouses that have tourists more regularly, they experience that it is hard to combine the work at the farm with the work at their guesthouse; to get both the work at the field done in the busy harvest season and to please the tourists is not easy to combine. Hence, agro-tourism for locals is only possible at small-scale, not with many tourists at one guesthouse at the same time. Therefore, it can never provide sufficient income for people. While the guesthouse owners that take in tourists only occasionally do not experience the combination of exploiting a business in the tourist industry next to their agricultural activities as challenging, the guesthouse owners of the formal industry do so very much. Hence, while it is so difficult to get in the industry and while the activities are difficult to combine, agro-tourism is a nice income-diversification strategy for people, but according to the locals not a sufficient answer for Maramureş’ socio-economic situation as many authorities and academics suggest. Firstly, it does not provide sufficient income and secondly it is an industry with many obstacles, although often idealized.

One of the main attractions of Poienile Izei is its wooden church. It attracts every year many tourists, the majority of tourists that visit the village only stop by to visit the church. Many local guesthouse owners belief that without the wooden church as attraction, the village would not attract so many tourists, although – because of its traditional character – the village would certainly be visited anyway. The old church and the traditions of the village are the most important attractions for tourists to visit the village. But the village has more attractions, many of those are also put on the internet sites where the guesthouses are marketed, like the Jewish cemetery and the mineral water sources. Yet, in a tourist landscape one would expect the marks of such a landscape to be visible, like signs to such sides, but here these are absent. As we will see later, these marks of tourism on the landscape are limited to the guesthouses with their ‘mushrooms’ (i.e. gazebos), the swings and road- crosses. But next to some very modest signs to guesthouses, hardly any other signs and the like exist. Further, nothing is undertaken to exploit these assets of the landscape for touristic purposes and 156

some local tourist operators state that the authorities, although they claim that they want to create policy and investments for tourism development, do not do anything to help locals to create a tourism industry. As such, only the initiatives of the guesthouse owners and of the local parish are contributing to the creation of a tourism industry locally. Let me give two example of such local initiatives, which are however rare. Firstly the village organized a few years ago a cultural festival in the village centre, were all villagers were dressed in traditional clothes, to attract tourists. Recently, in the summer of 2012, some local guesthouse owners cooperated to organize a small festival called sezatoare, where young people in traditional costumes gathered and danced, also to attract and entertain tourists. Usually, tourist agents operate unorganized, individually to entertain and attract tourists, rather than in such organized association.

7.1.2 The Wood Civilization and Tourist Attraction In the previous chapter was already introduced that the proponents of a traditional landscape state that the modernization of the landscape is due to international migration after the Revolution; and that tourism is not a cause of modernization, but rather a the solution to solve this problem. This paragraph will examine the different perspectives concerning traditional architecture and tourism in more detail.

Firstly, in the place-conflict over the outlook of the landscape of Maramureş clearly exists the belief that the preservation of traditional architecture is essential, not only in the perspective of the heritage protection actors, but as well by almost everyone involved in tourism, ranging from authorities, to tourist operators, to the tourists themselves. The common belief that they share is that modern architecture is ‘totally unattractive to tourists’ (Bălteanu et al., 2011: 267) and that tourists are rather interested in traditional architecture. It is commonly believed that tourists visit Maramureş for its traditions, including its architecture. As such, the disappearance of such architecture is perceived a threat to tourism. Therefore, cultural heritage protection in Maramureş stands not on itself, but is very much connected as well to socio-economic interests. The Munţii Maramureşului Natural Park, for example, therefore not only protects its natural resources, but also seeks to ‘preserve the traditional lifestyle’ and the traditional architecture, which they belief to disappear due to migration (Bălteanu et al., 2011: 258). They state that this is essential, because such disappearance of traditions will essentially cause a decrease in income from tourism:

‘Another threat to the tourist potential of the subject area is represented by the loss of connection with the ‘wood civilization’. The new constructions have modern and futuristic influences from the Western Europe, which generates a coloured and mixed landscape, characterised by contrasts, totally unattractive to tourists. Therefore, tourist agencies are not 157

interested in promoting Romanian tourism outside the country, their major interest being the promotion of international travel destinations.’ (Bălteanu et al., 2011: 267)

So, this quote which illustrates a belief common among tourism actors in Maramureş, states that when Maramureş is no longer the Land of Wood, tourists will cease to visit this region while it loses the assets that make it attractive for tourism. While Maramureş has nothing to offer for any other type of tourism, but only for the tourists interested in agro-tourism and cultural tourism, the region depends on its label as Land of Old and Land of Wood. While the authorities, as we saw before, are not so active in the field of heritage protection, it seems that the threat of the loss of traditional architecture to tourism and as such the regional economy, awoke some of them to take action. Moreover, the authorities want to stimulate the socio-economic development of the region by tourism. As such, in the future the authorities might be more actively involved in trying to influence the outcome of the conflict. The director of the DJCCPCNM for example, Ioan Marchis, stated in a local newspaper that rural tourism runs the risk of disappearance and states that authorities should take measures to prevent further demolishment of heritage (Dulf, 2011). Also academic actors stress the importance of the environmental qualities of Maramureş for its touristic potential and as such for its socio-economic development, like Dezsi, Bădărău and Man (2001).

Secondly, although the belief that the demolishment of wooden architecture threatens tourism is commonly believed among all tourism actors, not all actors agree on the role of tourism in these architectural transformations. Among the proponents of a traditional landscape, the perception exists that tourism is rather a solution to the disappearance of wooden architecture in the landscape of Maramureş, than a cause of this transformation. Again, migration is pointed at as the cause of landscape transformation, while tourism is seen as a solution: tourism should be further developed in order to strengthen and preserve traditions. Potrivit Ioanei Tripon, director of the Tourist Information Services of the Country Government of Maramureş states for example, that they want to change the mentality and motivation of the people of Maramureş to preserve their traditions by means of stimulating tourism (Marian, 2008). They belief that when they further develop the tourist industry, the people of Maramureş will start to preserve traditions, including traditional architecture, in order to please tourists. Also other actors in the place-conflict share this belief, like the architects of the Program for the Protection of the Build Landscape in Maramureş, who published a study on architectural transformation and tourist potential in two villages in Maramureş (i.e. Budesti and Petrova), again elaborating the belief that change is due to migration and ‘salvation’ lays in tourism (Elvădeanu and Ganea, n.d.). Many other actors and studies also share this belief, some not so much directly, but this belief is indirectly reflected, like for example in the study of Vasilescu (2012). She 158

studied how migration impacted the landscape of Maramureş, but the large modern gates that are placed for guesthouses nowadays have nothing to do with migration, but are placed there because of tourism: guesthouse owners want to imitate and interpret the Land of Wood to attract tourists.

So, the belief that tourism is also a cause of architectural transformation in Maramureş is rather absent among the proponents of a traditional landscape and even academic studies. Yet, the local residents of Poienile Izei and especially the guesthouse owners of the village have a different perspective on this issue. But before discussing these perspectives in more detail, we will take a look on the local’s perspectives on whether the decrease of traditional architecture is endangering tourism and on whether they belief tourists are interested in such architecture in the first place.

The belief that tourists visit Maramureş for its traditions, including its architecture and that as such, the disappearance of such architecture is perceived a threat to tourism is common indeed. Also the local guesthouse owners share this belief. Therefore, they also uphold the opinion that traditional architecture should be preserved and protected. Yet, many of them built modern houses and guesthouses and only some of them are involved in heritage protection themselves. Again, pragmatism motivates locals: they belief that the modernization of the village has been for the good, while the new roads, the creation of electricity and the many new constructions and houses have considerably improved their living conditions. Although traditions are very important and necessary for tourism and as such for incomes, comfortable and modern living conditions are necessary for satisfactory lives and as well for tourism, while tourism also requires certain standards of modernity, in the opinion of the local tourism operators. This includes electricity and modern bathrooms, which contributed to the transformation of the landscape, as we will see later in more detail. The local guesthouse owners agree that traditions are very important for tourism and that is actually these traditions that attract tourists to Maramureş. Motivated by what they see on TV, read and are told about Maramureş, they come to see the Land of Old and Land of Wood by themselves and expect a county of traditions, of wooden churches, houses and gates, traditional food, traditional interiors, music, beautiful landscapes, clean air, traditional costumes, etcetera. Tourists themselves therefore also continually ask their hosts to go and show them some wooden houses, they stress how dreadful they find it that the wooden architecture disappears so quickly, that so few houses are left and that Maramureş would be far less attractive without this appealing wooden architecture. Therefore, local guesthouse owners all fear that the tourism industry might collapse if Maramureş loses its identity as Land of Wood and Land of Old. As we will see later in more detail, it is therefore that tourism operators are motivated to preserve, reconstruct and introduce re-interpreted ‘styles of Maramureş’ into the landscape, which impacts and transforms the landscape. Yet, while traditional wooden 159

architecture is so important for tourism in Maramureş and while guesthouse owners agree that tourists come to see traditions including these wooden architecture, there exists disagreement concerning whether tourists also want to stay in traditional houses. Some guesthouse owners belief that tourists do not mind where they stay, but if they have comfortable conditions and a pleasant stay. As such, according to them only the landscape matters, that is, the wooden architecture should be present in the landscape and the tourists prefer to stay in modern guesthouses. Yet, on the other hand there are guesthouse owners and tourists that state to be very interested in actually staying in such traditional wooden houses, many tourists looking specifically for ‘traditional’ guesthouses where not many other tourists stay and where hosts ‘live traditional lives’. Tourists that were offered to stay the night in a traditional wooden house were extremely excited hereby. Yet, there is a difference between tourists that want to live the ‘authentic’ Maramureş life by themselves, or only want to gaze upon it from their own comfortable, modern life. This creates a drive for large, modern guesthouses according to some local guesthouse owners ‘look like luxury hotels’ and that are ‘without reference to tradition’. Some local guesthouse owners experience this as a threat to sustainable agro-tourism, that is, the small scale tourism that is combined with the small subsistence farming and is based on these branches of tourism interested in rurality and culture. In their perception, this makes it more difficult for them to actually preserve traditions, while all these modern guesthouses also transform the outlook of the landscape and contribute to the transformation of the landscape. While agro-touristic guesthouse owners seek to contribute to the preservation of traditions and a traditional landscape, some feel like the authorities do nothing to support them and while it is hard to combine small-scale agriculture with touristic activities, the competition with the luxury-guesthouses makes it difficult for them to keep their preservation project going. Besides, they experience a lack of support from other heritage protection actors, like the museums, in their attempt to save traditions. While some locals try to keep traditions like handicrafts alive, they hardly have opportunities to sell these, to build networks, to share and keep alive their knowledge, etcetera.

All these different perceptions on what tourists want and expect of Maramureş are also reflected in the practices of guesthouse owners towards the landscape. That is, they make deliberate choices for certain styles of architecture based on these perceptions. Some build ‘traditional’ styles to attract tourists while others build modern and lux resorts. So, tourism has an impact on the architecture of houses and the next paragraph will discuss this impact in more detail. 160

Image 20: Traditional houses used by the tourism industry to lodge tourists in Poienile Izei (above) and Botiza

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7.1.3 Tourism and Landscape Transformation: Traditionalization Despite the fact that different perspectives exist as well, the local tourism agents belief that tourism is an important driver behind landscape transformation in Maramureş. As this paragraph will show, the dynamic of tourism contributed to landscape transformation, being both a traditionalizing and a modernizing dynamic. Tourism actors contribute both to the introduction of traditional styles of architecture in the landscape, as to the introduction of new styles and advancing of the modernization of architecture.

As was discussed before, the trading in old wooden houses is as well related to tourism, while tourism actors in other European countries are very interested in buying the houses from Maramureş. Once over the border, the houses are said to be reconstructed to be used as cottages in for example France, where rural tourism is common and picturesque houses are used to attract and lodge tourists (Andreica, 2012). As such, while the houses were taken away from the landscape of Maramureş and tourists started to come to the region to see these houses, the tourism actors started to regret the transformations of the landscape. In recent years, more and more guesthouse owners start to buy and restore old wooden houses for the purpose of using these as cottages for tourists. Guesthouse owners who are involved herein belief that tourists are interested in staying in such houses and in experiencing tradition:

‘We realized after thirteen years of commitment to tourism that increasingly more forein tourist not only want to eat traditional and biological food, but also want to stay in authentic houses. So I bought an old house (…)’. (Guesthouse-owner from Poienile Izei, cited by Andreica, 2012; my translation)

Meanwhile, the houses are often modernized and enlarged: second floors and dormers are added to make extra rooms, in order that the house can have a modern kitchen, living-room, bathroom and bedroom indoors. In the end, many people do want to experience ‘tradition’, but only when basic needs of comfort are met. In Poienile Izei, currently (2012) only one of such an old wooden house is under construction. In other villages, like Breb and nearby Botiza, this phenomena is far more established (see for examples of such houses Image 20). Meanwhile, it is a very common practice that guesthouse owners bring tourists to old wooden houses that still exist or are still lived in, to show them how these houses look like. Some people in Poienile Izei own traditional houses which are used especially for the purpose of showing them to tourists and yet others have even contracts with foreign tourism agents to market and direct tourists to these locations. These houses have often ‘traditional’ interiors as well, including traditional costumes that can be used for the tourists to dress up in and to take photos (see for examples of such houses Image 21). It also happens that visitors for 162

Image 21: Examples of traditional houses used by the tourism industry for the purpose of showing them to tourists and traditional houses owned by locals or tourists for the purpose of leisure

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whom there is no place left in the house, is offered to stay in the often unused wooden houses that people still own. While tourists, especially from foreign countries, come to Maramureş to see its traditions, the visiting and especially staying in wooden houses is responded to enthusiastically. Hence, guesthouse owners intend to further invest in creating cottages out of wooden houses and to preserve such houses as objects for sights seeing and for attracting tourists to the region.

This enthusiasm of tourists for the wooden architecture of Maramureş and the fact that indeed tourists share the cultural desire of residing with the purpose of leisure in an idyllic landscape is reflected in another recent trend. Not only are old wooden houses bought up and restored by guesthouse owners, tourists from Romania and abroad also buy houses themselves as vacation resorts. This trend is even more established in Poienile Izei than the first trend, while several of such houses have been bought and restored in the last decade. Many tourists inform about prices of houses and land during the trips that their hosts give them to the houses and on internet, more and more people also offer old wooden houses for sale and the prices are going up. So, it is to be expected that houses will now not only be sold over the border any more, but more and more stay in Maramureş and be sold to local tourist agents and tourists. Besides, next to national and foreign tourists, also local residents from Maramureş that have jobs in cities like Baia Mare and Sighet now own old wooden houses, often because they inherited these houses, and use these for the purpose of leisure. The houses are restored and enlarged or rather kept intact for the purpose of using the house both for leisure residence by themselves and to show the houses to tourists. So, traditional houses no longer have the sole function of permanent residence, but also gained the function of temporary leisure residence, both for national and foreign tourists as for regional city residents (see for examples of such houses Image 21).

Next to the preservation and re-introduction of traditional houses and styles in the landscape, tourism actors also introduce styles of architecture in the landscape that are interpretations of the ‘style of Maramureş’. The increasing dominance of the formal representation and the importance of the represented identity of the region to the tourism industry as being reflected in the landscape and the touristic resorts caused that such interpretations of the ‘identity of Maramureş’ are reflected and implanted in the rural locality increasingly. Examples of such landscape elements are the wooden road crosses that are put in the gardens of guesthouses, which normally are never placed in gardens; or the wooden swings; and the so-called ‘mushrooms’, which are covered benches placed in the gardens to sit an eat outside during the summer (see Image 22). Another example is the introduction of gates in front of guesthouses, which are clearly much larger and more decorated than the gates in the past used to be (see Image 22). All these landscape 164

Image 22: The tourism landscape of Maramureş: gates in front of houses compared to modern gates in front of guesthouses; a ‘mushroom’, photo downloaded from http:// http://www.marco-mara.ro/ 165

Image 23: New constructions built after traditional styles and construction techniques in monestaries of Barsana and Sapanta, Maramures 166

elements are typically touristic, while they are introduced to attract, entertain, please tourists and provide them with ‘what they expect’ and with a ‘sense of Maramureş’. While Maramureş is modernizing away from its image as Land of Old and Land of Wood more and more, tourism operators seek to ‘create’ tradition and start to plant reconstructions of ‘traditional’ buildings in the landscape, creating what some call a ‘Disneyland-Maramureş’ (Mihali, 2011). This trend of ‘Disneyfication’ of the landscape went together with a trend among parishes and monasteries, to build new constructions, in accordance with traditional techniques and styles (see Picture 23). Hence, in this way, old styles and knowledge of architecture is kept alive by actively practicing the construction of such traditional styles in the landscape. This resulted in new wooden churches and monasteries, which are represented as being of a typical Maramureş style, but is yet very different from the churches and monasteries of the past: the towers of the churches from the new Bârsana and Săpânţa monasteries (dating from the 1990s and 2000s) are the highest wooden constructions of Europe (Cianga, 2007). While these monasteries attract many tourists each year, many tourists are also critical of these new monasteries, while they regard them to be not ‘authentic’ and not ‘traditional’ because of their age, although the styles and techniques are copies of ‘the old-days’. This tourists’ critique also applies to guesthouses that – in the opinion of tourists – look ‘too modern’ and not ‘authentic’ enough. Tourists seek ‘true’ authenticity, not ‘fake’ and ‘counterfeit’ tradition.

To sum up, tourism has impacted the landscape of Maramureş in two manners: (1) it traditionalized the landscape by preserving and re-introducing traditional houses and it (2) caused a trend of re-interpretation, i.e. what some call a ‘disneyfication’ of the landscape by introducing landscape elements that are said to represent Maramureş.

7.1.4 Tourism and Landscape Transformation: Modernization The actors in the field of tourism are among the fierce aggregators against the modernization of the landscape of Maramureş, while they claim this endangers tourism. Yet local tourism agents also state that tourism is one of the main drivers behind the modernization of the landscape, although some claim that only migration is responsible therefore.

The process of the impact of tourism on houses started about fifteen years ago, when the tourism industry in Poienile Izei started. Back then, only about two houses started to take in tourists and while the village was still very underdeveloped, most houses lacked any form of comfort, like indoor bathrooms and modern kitchens. In order to be able to host tourists, people started to make investments in their houses to turn these into guesthouses. The renovations focussed on creating modern kitchens and bathrooms mainly, especially during the first years of tourism development in the village. Gradually, more and more people wanted to be able to take in tourists and started to 167

invest money and make renovations to their houses. This has had profound impact on the landscape of the village and its houses. In the first years of tourism, the introduction of modern kitchens and bathrooms was restricted to the houses of the rich and the houses with guesthouses mainly; although later this has become more common. Yet, still not all houses have indoor bathrooms. Some of the most luxurious guesthouses now also have invested in creating central heating, but most houses and even most guesthouses still lack such central heating systems and depend on wood stoves in each room. So, the tourism industry has been one of the main drivers behind the creation of comfort and luxury, while the necessity of such comfortable conditions made people invest money from e.g. migration in interior adaptations rather than in other projects. Not only has the luxury of the interiors been changed over the years, also the number of rooms. Many houses now have multiple bathrooms, kitchens, living rooms and a large number of bedrooms to separate the rooms for the family from the rooms for the guests. As such, some guesthouses, especially the ones that do not take in tourists regularly, have a number of rooms that are hardly used. Next to the interiors of houses, the exteriors of houses have changed considerably. People have invested the money they earned with tourism and sometimes also migration in their houses, gradually modernizing the outlook of the village. While they often intend to expand their guesthouses in order to be able to take in more tourists, they enlarge their house by building more rooms. While after the mid-2000s, many houses are already large, much more often, people do not need to enlarge their house if they want to take in tourists, like before. Like many locals say, this is also the reason why people construct such large houses, so that if once they intent to take in tourists, they only need to finish or adapt the interiors of the rooms and do not need to extend the house anymore. So, people are said by locals and guesthouses owners to construct larger houses mainly for the purpose of tourism: they want to be able to receive tourists. So, while some argue that international migration is solemnly responsible for the introduction of large houses in the landscape, local residents and tourism agents argue that people, once they have money, invest this in their houses, either to start or to expand a guesthouse. Taking in tourists, even when this is done irregularly, pays off, and is as such an interesting source of extra income for people.

The modernization of the landscape by tourism actors is as accompanied by the believe that not all tourists are interested in cultural tourism. Some guesthouse owners belief that tourists are not so much attracted by staying surrounded by traditions and traditional architecture, but are rather interested in residing under comfortable conditions, luxury and modernity. Indeed, a portion of tourists comes to Maramureş not merely with the same intention as most tourists do: cultural tourism and agro-tourism. Rather than those tourists, they are not so much interested in experiencing ‘rural life’ and ‘traditional life’, but just in having comfortable vacations and relaxation. 168

Accordingly, some guesthouses are constructed to be very modern and luxury resorts, both concerning its interiors as well as its exteriors, having a modernizing impact on the landscape as well. But the modernization of the landscape is also due to the less luxury guesthouses and the agro- touristic guesthouses, while all guesthouses need to provide comfortable conditions as indoor, modern bathrooms. Yet, in the place-conflict, the modernization of the landscape is not seen as due to tourism and tourism is rather framed as a solution to modernization. As such, there is also no debate on the modernization by tourism, apart from the claims from some agro-touristic guesthouses that the luxury guesthouses make it harder for them to keep the image and reality of a traditional Maramureş alive.

So, not only migration, but tourism as well is a major transformative driver behind the modernization of the landscape of Maramureş. This transformative process is also mediated via the change of ideas and values. In interaction with tourists and visitors, the people of Maramureş gain new ideas about life but as well about their landscape and about what exactly tourists expect from Maramureş. Hence, while tourism in Poienile Izei is often on a small-scale, that is, while most guesthouses have only few tourists at a time, there are lively conversations and interactions between visitors and hosts. They share many things, including the differences between cultures and life worlds and as well the expectations of tourists about life in Maramureş. This in turn impacts daily life in the village, while the hosts seek to adapt to the expectations of their visitors and seek to provide them with whatever they expect, following the logics of supply and demand. This is how the landscape became tailored towards the desires and expectations of tourist: gardens are equipped with ‘mushrooms’ to sit in, rather than the benches on the streets that the locals usually use; the gardens and balconies are decorated with flowers; wooden swings appeared and road crosses in gardens; the trees with pots and pans, element of a ‘traditional Maramureş’, which is hardly seen apart from touristic purposes; wooden gates in front of guesthouses; etcetera. Moreover, by following the logic of responding to what tourists expect from Maramureş, some traditions reappeared, like the wearing of costumes. All guesthouse owners stress that traditions in Maramureş have not been preserved, like the formal representation would like us to belief, but that due to the quick modernization of the early-1990s, traditions started to disappear. Rather, traditions have reappeared, due to tourism. While tourists come to Maramureş to see the traditions they are promised to see, traditions as wearing folkloric costumes to church on Sundays, religious festivals and weddings has been reintroduced. Local guesthouse owners say this is mainly due to the priest, who encouraged such traditions like the wearing of costumes to reappear, because he stresses the importance of tourism for the village. Yet, other traditions have never disappeared, including many religious ceremonies. Nonetheless, many of these traditions are far from meaning less to the locals themselves, as if they 169

are only performed as an act for tourists. By the locals the traditions as wearing the costumes and the traditional music and dances is much enjoyed, especially as well by the younger generations. Hence, such traditions are performed not only in sight of tourists or during tourism seasons, but as well ‘backstage’, having gained a new role and meaning in the lives of Maramureş. With the revitalization of the traditions, many traditions have also gained new forms, like the costumes which now have many new colours and fabrics and are combined with modern, high-heel shoes rather than the shoes that were worn in the past. Hence, Maramureş today is a mix of modernity and of traditions that are kept alive or revived. It is a hybridity of the past and the present and of local and non-local elements.

7.1.5 Tourism and the Place-conflict: Arena’s and Place-frames As discussed, perspectives present in tourism clearly reflect the identity-oriented place-frames: the tourism actors seek to protect the traditional identity of Maramureş. The current commonly employed practice of buying and rebuilding of traditional houses reflects the perspective of preservation by means of adaptation: the preservation-frame. Clearly, tourism is currently the main branch responsible for the introduction of new architectural elements to the constructions. The creation of comfort in the houses is regarded to be very important and as such, modern kitchens and bathrooms are created inside the houses. Therefore, the two rooms that the traditional houses usually have do not provide sufficient room and houses are extended. New architectural elements are introduced to the houses to make this possible, like the extending of the number of rooms in the houses, by creating dormers in the roofs. This trend now only appears to the tourism and leisure related wooden houses and not (yet) to the wooden houses used by the locals for permanent residence. Meanwhile, the tourism related houses are usually aimed to stay as close to authenticity as possible, meaning that the rooms are still made out of wooden shingles, while many locals’ houses have asbestos roofs. This solution of preservation-by-adaptation lies very close to proposals made by some cultural heritage protectors, like that of the architects of the Protection Program for Build Landscape in Maramureş. Yet, these houses are often rebuilt by their owners themselves and according to their own wishes and after their own discretion and as such, these houses are not acknowledged as ‘being of Maramureş’. Hence, in the contestedness of the spatial identity of Maramureş, cultural heritage protectors and tourisms actors and guesthouse owners have in common that they seek to preserve and (re-)construct a traditional architecture, but they differ and conflict over the outlook of such architecture. As such, the outlook of the houses created by guesthouse owners is in the end often so different from what the traditional houses looked like in the past, that some people wonder whether this is still representative for ‘Maramureş’ at all. Yet others belief that, using these houses for a target group that still likes to reside in them (i.e. tourists) 170

and by adapting them to meet the conditions which are required nowadays, is the only way to preserve these houses from utter disappearance from the landscape.

The difference between the traditional houses of the locals and these meant for tourists not only exists materially, but as well discursively. While the traditional houses of the locals became to symbolize poverty, backwardness and uncomfortable living conditions; a ‘traditional house’ means something else in the tourism circuit. There, a traditional house is a symbol of leisure and as such of money and of luxury, of owning second houses in the countryside for leisure purposes. The houses have become symbols of cultural desire: they represent membership of a world and a life which is idyllic, better and more desirable as compared to where these visitors used to live, like in cities or West European countries. Hence, traditional houses are as well status symbols, next to symbols of poverty.

Next to the preservation frame, also the interpretation-frame is present among tourism actors, while they introduce into the landscape modern architecture based on re-interpretations and re-constructions of old architectural techniques, elements and styles. As discussed before, within this frame exist two opposite positions. One position is that of the Protection Program for Build Landscape in Maramureş, which designed a neo-vernacular style of architecture, also a modern style, based on an interpretation of traditional architecture. The other opposite is formed by the tourist branch. Here again, the cultural heritage protectors and the tourist actors like guesthouse owners share the desire for a traditional architecture, but disagree on the manner of execution thereof. The architects disapprove the extreme interpretations and ‘disney-difation’ of the landscape. They state for example about the new wooden gates that currently appear in the villages of Maramureş, that these are not representative for the gates as they were in the past and that they find the decorations on the gates ‘too flashy and too busy’ (‘Catalogul cu case’, 2009: 28; my translation). Another example of how the interpretation-style is disliked by heritage protectors is provided by Laura Ghinea, from the University of Art and Design of Cluj-Napoca, who states in a local newspaper that she finds it ‘horrible’ to see how old wooden gates stand for modern Western-styled houses and how traditional symbols that were carved in wood, are now applied to concrete pillars as well (Marian, 2008). So, while the tourism industry – and the locals as well – try to keep some of the history of Maramureş alive in present-day architecture, this interpretation-frame is heavily debated within the place-conflict. Also some tourists do not appreciate this ‘disney-fication’ of the landscape, while they expect to find what they have seen and read about – i.e. what is promised to them by the formal representation: a rural and traditional landscape that is pure and authentic and as such not fake and counterfeit. It causes them to search for these guesthouses and resorts that do look ‘authentic’ in 171

their perceptions, void of signs of modernity and implanted tradition. For guesthouse owners as such, it becomes a challenge to balance between creating the right conditions to attract tourists, but not to look ‘counterfeit’ and as such distract them.

A strategic arena concerning the place-conflict in the domain of tourism is the construction arena, because constructing tourism constructions is booming business and mainly because construction is a major economic sector in Maramureş and there are quite some companies with expertise in building the tourism constructions. Although there exist not many craftsmen and companies that still have the experience and knowledge of how to construct according to the traditional techniques of centuries ago, many construction workers and companies can work to adapt traditional houses or to build the neo-vernacular and Disney-fication-styled houses. Also, companies produce and sell all other sorts of tourism related products, like road crosses, gates, summer-altars, swings, balconies, etcetera. The fact that such companies exist and make available wooden products in an increasing wide range of applications, from houses and gates (a traditional application) to even ‘traditional-styled’ terraces, flowerpots and bus shelters (modern applications) fosters landscape transformation. Besides, the introduction of such styles and wooden elements makes the landscape more divers and although its aim is to make the landscape look more ‘traditional’ and ‘like in the past’, it moves away from its former manifestation. Meanwhile, the construction arena also actively contributes to the preservation of traditional architecture because craftsmen still preserve and apply centuries-old-techniques and construct churches and monasteries exactly in the same way as was done in the past. As discussed in former chapters, architects in Maramureş involved in cultural heritage protection have developed a range of drawings of houses in what they call a ‘neo-vernacular’ style. These houses can also be build and are actually more modern houses. Hence, the construction arena offers a wide range of expertise, techniques, applications of wood, and as such of possible houses and expressions of ‘traditional’ styles. Hence, a multiplicity of interpretations of what is labelled ‘traditional’ spatial identities and architectural styles are available in Maramureş and within the place-conflict, there is contestation over which of these identities and styles is the most ‘proper’ manifestation. The main role of the construction arena in these politics of place is to make available all these different and competing styles, while if someone does not appreciate a certain spatial identity and practice, the construction arena is employed to introduce alternative styles. The fact that within the construction arena there is so much possibility for introducing so many different and competing styles is facilitated by the legal vacuum of a relative absence of regulations concerning constructions and the outlook of the landscape. Hence, because of this legal vacuum created in the political arena, because of the many different opinions and perceptions about ‘traditional’ architecture and its ‘proper’ manifestation and because of the wide 172

range of expertise and available options within the construction arena, a multiplicity of different styles labelled ‘traditional’ are added to the landscape of Maramureş.

So, because the construction arena offers so much options for ‘traditional’ styles to be constructed, a divers landscape is created. This is mainly due to the fact that there exists a legal vacuum created by the political arena, even though they, as compared to how the political arena reacted on cultural heritage protection, seem to increasingly realize the importance of tourism for the economy and are more willing to legislate accordingly. As we saw in preceding chapters, there hardly exists regulation on construction and demolishment of old and new houses and if so, these regulations are hardly maintained. Therefore, the political sphere does not mediate in the place- conflict on which forms of demolishment of old and construction of new buildings is acceptable and neither on what types of neo-traditional architecture can be constructed. Hereby, there comes to exist a legal vacuum, by which a chaotic and multiplied diversity of ‘traditional’ houses can start to exist and because of this, many different forms and claims of the ‘traditional’ Maramureş style can start to co-exist in the landscape. However, recently some political actors start to realize that tourism is very important for the socio-economic development of Maramureş. There have been subsequent calls for political action and legislation from some political actors as well, next to the many calls and pressure stemming from non-political actors that try to press for legislation and action. Again the media-arena plays a very central role as main meeting-place and play-ground for the on-going contestations and debates about the spatial identity and practices concerning the landscape of Maramureş, also as a channel for such political calls-for-action. Like for the domain of cultural heritage protection, the media form a sounding board that resonates the voices of them that are worried about the threats to tourism and the economy when heritage is damaged and disappears. As such, the role of the media in the place-conflict is to facilitate debate about the role of tourism in socio-economic development for Maramureş and as well about the importance of the civilization of wood for tourism and subsequently for the economy. By offering room to react on publications, media facilitate debate and discussions about the propositions that they bring forward. Moreover, besides facilitating debate, media also extensively give room for sharing and publicizing information on new initiatives in the tourism industry, that might inspire others as well to initiate sort-wise practices. Examples hereof are interviews with owners of guesthouses that lodge tourists in traditional houses or villagers that build and opened their own village museums to entertain tourists and make income.

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7.2 Tourism and the Formal Representation

7.2.1 Tourism, the Formal Representation and the Wooden Churches This chapter has discussed so far how tourism in Maramureş is an important driver behind the material landscape transformation in two manners: (1) it drives a trend of traditionalization of the landscape and (2) it drives as well the modernization of the landscape, although some actors believe tourism is rather the solution than the cause for these transformations. Yet, tourism is not only related to material transformations, but as well to the transformation of the spatial identity of Maramureş. Chapter 4 already discussed into detail the contents of the formal representation. This specific spatial identity, constructed since the 1970s by the promotion of tourism, has given rise to the discursive reconstruction of the landscape of Maramureş. This paragraph will discuss the role of the wood civilization in tourism in Maramureş and how the formal representation functions in the tourism circuit of Maramureş.

Since the 1970s, governors and tourism actors have actively branded the region as being still the exemplification of traditional life and European rurality. Maramureş is branded as a ‘living museum’, as a region were ‘time passed by’ and were people still live like they did for ages. Maramureş is branded as the region of the peasantry, of the absence of modernity, of nature and authenticity: a true rural idyll, in terms of Bell (2006). Besides, strong reference is made to the wooden architecture of Maramureş: it is the region of wooden churches, houses and gates. As such the wooden churches of Maramureş became the most powerful symbols and identity markers of the region. This formal representation states that Maramureş has kept its traditions alive as if the region lies before us as a living museum. Hence, this museum is a museum of wood, while the people of Maramureş are said to express themselves through wood in all spheres of live. The formal representation on Maramureş portrays the region as inherently connected to its past, as a mere continuation of its past, through an on-going repetition of its traditions and ways of living. Maramureş is called therefore the Land of Old and the Land of Wood.

The wooden churches of Maramureş are not only its prime identity marker in the formal representation, they are also the main tourist attractions and most famous objects of Maramureş in the images that tourists have of Maramureş. The wooden churches of Maramureş – primarily the eight churches that are included in the World Heritage List – attract many tourist each year and no tourist visits Maramureş without visiting at least some of the churches. Tourists also visit other important tourists sights, like the famous monasteries, the Merry Cemetery, the museums of Sighet, the old city centre of Baia Mare, the steam train of Viseu de Sus and the villages with the ‘traditional 174

outlooks and lifestyles’ and the wooden houses and village museums; but the wooden churches often form a theme in their visits and guide them through Maramureş, while they visit other sights on their way between the churches. So indeed, as the tourism operators from Maramureş also believe, the wood civilization is an important attraction for tourists who are very interested in the wooden architecture of Maramureş. Without this civilization of wood, tourism in Maramureş would be far less developed, because the wooden architecture is the main attractor of the cultural tourists. Informed and directed by the formal representation that came to them in brochures, tourist guidebooks, tourism-rubrics in newspapers, on TV and internet, etcetera; tourists visit Maramureş, the ‘land of the wooden churches’ and intend to visit those churches. Most interesting for them are the UNESCO-churches, whose parishes clearly benefit from the UNESCO-label attached to their wooden churches and which functions as a ‘certificate of authenticity and originality’, especially interesting to all visitors of Maramureş that are part of the cultural-tourism-branch. Hence, being part of the World Heritage List works for these like a marketing and branding strategy. Having built relations with UNESCO and related actors thus not only resulted in the advancement of assistance for the parishes in preserving these churches, but as well in the promotion of tourism and the portrayal of these churches as identity markers of Maramureş. Hence, the networks and interconnectivities build around the churches have also contributed to the discursive transformation, that is, to the redefinition of Maramureş and the construction of a (formal) spatial identity in which the wooden churches became the central symbols.

The impact of the formal representation on the landscape, as seeking to enforce its specific spatial identity on the material reality seems at first sight to be rather weak, because the architecture of Maramureş is modernizing rather than remaining or becoming a ‘living-museum’ and tourism is one of its main drivers. But although the actors of the domain of cultural heritage protection seem in unmovable positions to traditionalize the landscape according to their strict imaginations of ‘traditional’ and ‘authentic’ spatial identities and practices, the actors of the domain of tourism found space to move. For them, the problem with the clash between the formal representation and the everyday-reality of the modernized landscape lies especially in the threat that this might offer to tourism. Hence, actors in the field of tourism, in their daily practices, seek to meet this expectation of tourists and attempt to offer them ‘tradition’. This is reflected in practices as the introduction and preservation-through-adaptation of traditional houses in the landscape; the assistance that of tourism actors provide to tourists that want to buy houses in Maramureş; the construction of the interpretation-style landscape elements; the introduction of the flower gardens and the ‘mushrooms’; etcetera. But next to these material adaptations of the landscape for the sake of tourism, it is also important to stress the continuous re-construction of the formal representation in 175

interactions between tourists and hosts. Tourists come to Maramureş, informed by e.g. TV, internet and friends and full of expectations about Maramureş as a region that offers traditions, wooden churches, houses and gates, traditional food, traditional interiors, music, beautiful landscapes, clean air, traditional costumes, etcetera. Their hosts then try to meet these expectations and try to live up hereto by trying to bring the formal representation alive: they await their guests in traditional costumes, with ţuica (a local plum brandy); they organize evenings with traditional music and dancing; they provide them with horse rides around the village; take them with them to the field to show them how the hay is harvested; they dress the tourists in traditional clothes and take them to church on Sundays; they cook only traditional food from their own backyard for them; they make excursions to the wooden church, the mineral water sources, or take them to go pick berries in the forest; etcetera. In other words: the hosts seek to provide the tourists with a true ‘taste of Maramureş’: the formal representation is continually reconstructed and reinforced, both materially (by constructing ‘traditional’ styles of architecture) and discursively (by reinforcing the formal representation). As such, the presence of tourism in Maramureş has a profound effect on the landscape of Maramureş: both as a modernizing and as a traditionalizing driver of landscape transformation. Yet, in the interaction between tourists and their hosts, this is sought to be made invisible.

So, tourism promotion and hence, tourism actors as owners of guesthouses have been the main actors behind the construction and continual reconstruction and reinforcement of the formal representation. Yet, other actors and motivations as authorities and academics driven by their policy aims of socio-economic development have also contributed to the construction of the formal representation, as will be discussed in the next paragraph.

7.2.2 The New Rural Paradigm and Tourism Development in Maramureş While places have both material and discursive aspects, an important aspect of any place is how it is defined and perceived. As such, some places are defined as developed and others as in need of development. The rural is an example of a spatiality which is often constructed as backwards and in need of development. But not only is the rural often defined in contrast to the urban, even entire countries are defined in terms of (under)development. As such, most of the EU member states in Central and Eastern Europe became divided into regions and these became further envisioned as “development regions” in the latest EU policy circuits. Perspectives on place incorporate ideas about the state of advancement of a place and on how a place should be and what trajectory (i.e. policy) is needed to reach this ideal. The paradigms that inform EU regional development polices seem to represent the perspective that places should be ‘developed’, ‘sustainable’ and ‘equal to other 176

places’. Hence, place becomes the target, the subject of policy intervention (Collinge and Gibney, 2010). This is based on the belief that place matters to policies (Reimer and Markey, 2008). So, this EU objective of regional development is tied to two other major EU projects: place-based policies and inclusion policies. These different streams in the EUs policy paradigm together create the belief that place-tailored policies are necessary to enhance ‘regional competitiveness’. The European Union policies reflect what Collinge and Gibney (2010) have called the paradigm of a “new leadership of place”, which targets places in order to reduce inequalities between places and advantages some regions over others to correct for inequalities (Collinge and Gibney, 2010). “Competitive regional development” is done in a place-tailored way, with a focus on the uniqueness of the region itself, based on the unique characteristics of the region dealt with. It is in this way that policies aim to create “competitive, sustainable regional development” (Horlings and Padt, n.d.). So, the paradigm that informs EU policy portrays certain regions as underdeveloped and excluded from socio- economic benefits. As such, within this paradigm exists the perception that the future potential of these regions should be facilitated by ‘competitive, sustainable, regional development”.

This place-based policy paradigm of the EU reflects what Ward and Brown (2009) have called the new rural paradigm. They state that across OECD-countries, this new rural paradigm has replaced the old policy paradigm while globalization has so profoundly transformed ruralities that new type of policies and new type of thinking has evolved as a result thereof. The new paradigm is no longer concerned with agriculture primarily, but with a much broader spectrum of economic sectors, including tourism (Ward and Brown, 2009). Hence, not farm incomes and subsidies are core concepts anymore, but the competitiveness of regions and consequently, policies are concerned with the region’s unique assets and potential resources and focusses on the valorisation and exploitation of these assets and resources (Ward and Brown, 2009). This new rural paradigm is thus very much a place-based approach: a paradigm that approaches development as a process that takes best place through exploitation of a region’s unique characteristics. As such, the phenomenon of place-branding is closely related to such an approach, turning regions into brands and products to be branded and sold. Besides, Ward and Brown (2009) explain that in order to do so, the rural is expressed in binaries, to stress its deviation from the urban: it is traditional rather than modern, agricultural rather than industrial, changelessness rather than dynamic, natural rather than cultural.

The new policy paradigm with its focus on place-based development is very recognizable in the policies that are currently employed concerning Maramureş. The perception of stimulating socio- economic development based on creating a tourism industry, through marketing the region based on its unique assets, is common among the authorities and academic actors that are involved in 177

Maramureş. In preceding chapters, it already became clear that the authorities seek to stimulate the county’s socio-economic development by promoting tourism. In this same respect, also academic actors adopt the perspective that the preservation of cultural heritage and development of a tourism industry based on this heritage might prove an interesting opportunity for socio-economic development. As was discussed extensively before, Maramureş is branded as Land of Old and Land of Wood and as its main symbols are chosen its wooden churches, called ‘representative’ assets (Cianga, 2007: 59) and ‘true symbols of regional identity’ (‘Parteneriat intre administratiile’, 2012, my translation) for their region. When the mining and forest industries collapsed after the fall of communism in 1989, tourism was introduced in the region as alternative economic sector. In the decades after the Revolution, the development of the tourism industry has gone well and the number of tourism resorts has accelerated rapidly. Tourism has become an important economic sector indeed. The branding of the region has played an important role herein and while EU policies are more and more intertwined with local policies, especially since Maramureş became part of development region North-West, the place-based paradigm is increasingly reflected in policies. Ever since, not only the tourism sector itself has been involved in seeking to stimulate the industry and in promoting the region, but other actors – as the authorities and academics – have so as well.

So, the construction of the formal representation should also be seen from the perspective of place-based development: the focus on identifying and exploiting local assets in order to enhance the competitiveness of Maramureş of region as compared to other regions. The academic actors also stimulate the branding of Maramureş based on cultural heritage in order to advance the economy. They clearly advocate for place-based development and tourism based development, for example Muica and Turnock state that the region is rich in resources that are suitable for the initiation of rural tourism and which make it possible to exploit these for economic diversification. Also Ilovan (2010) and Cianga (2007) state that Maramureş has assets that are suitable for ‘touristic capitalizing’ (Ilovan, 2010: 46), including off course the wooden churches and that Maramureş is ‘one of the most representative and original rural tourist zones’ (Cianga, 2007: 62). Yet, while the focus of all involved actors clearly is on tourism, the formal representation is not merely a general representation, it is a representation that is caused and reproduced by and in circuits of tourism. So, although many different actors are involved in constructing and reproducing this formal representation, somehow all of them relate to the purpose of tourism and/or place-branding. We cannot understand the formal representation apart from the development of the tourism industry in Maramureş.

So, the authorities and academics have stressed the importance of tourism for socio- economic development in Maramureş and as such as well contributed to the creation of the formal 178

representation, by advocating for place-based development. There has been a strong development of the tourism industry in the recent decades. The balance between tourism and agriculture in the economy of Maramureş is shifting, especially because for younger generations, investing in and starting businesses in the tourism sector is more attractive than agricultural activities. This has caused a transformation of the function of the landscape: the landscape is no longer only used for the purpose of agriculture, but as well for the purpose of tourism and recreation. Ilbery (1998) states this is a wider trend in Europe, in which rural localities are gaining multiple and diversified purposes next to agriculture, like for example tourism. As such, ruralities are no longer just sites of production, more and more they also become sites of consumption (Ilbery, 1998). So, the landscape transformations in Maramureş also concern the functions of the landscape.

7.2.3 A Transformation of Landscape Functions While agriculture is diminishing and in some areas of Maramureş, the marks of the tourism industry are already more dominant in the landscape than the marks of agriculture, it is yet too early to conclude that the landscape of Maramureş has transformed from an agricultural landscape to a leisure landscape. For large areas of Maramureş, subsistence farming is indeed still the main source of daily activity and of income. These daily practices of production and consumption so impact the landscape of Maramureş that it is far too early to say that the landscape is no longer an agricultural landscape. But the marks of the tourism industry are so clearly present all over Maramureş, that it is inevitable to conclude that the landscape of Maramureş is no longer an agricultural landscape only. Its landscape functions have transformed, that is, they have diversified and the landscape of Maramureş is now both an agricultural landscape and a leisure landscape. With agriculture on return as well, now the youngest generations are no longer continuing the tradition of taking over the family farms of their parents and tourism is the sector currently most invested in, the landscape of Maramureş will in the future probably evolve only further away from an agricultural landscape to a leisure landscape. This trend is already visible in some places of Maramureş, where the tourism industry took over agriculture as a main source of income and subsequently restructured not only the economy, but as well the landscape.

Landscape functions are essentially embedded and dependent on perceptions. That is, landscape functions stem from the relation that people have with the landscape, the functions that the landscape has to them and the perceptions they have about the landscape. Buijs et al. (2006) did a study on landscape perceptions and their conclusions included that how people perceive the landscape depends very much on the functional relation that they have with the landscape: farmers have different perceptions of rural landscapes than tourists. Hence, they titled their study: ‘from 179

hiking through farmland to farming in a leisure landscape (…)’. This notion certainly applies to the landscape of Maramureş as well. Whether the landscape of Maramureş is an agricultural landscape or a leisure landscape depends very much on through whose eyes you watch. That is, the everyday lives of the rural matter very much to the functions of the rural locality, i.e. the landscape. While for the local residents whose primary relation to the landscape is that of producing a living the landscape will be a ‘farmland’ indeed, for tourists and tourism promoters, the primary function of the landscape is leisure and their landscape is a ‘leisure landscape’. The practices of production and consumption that go together with these different types and functions of everyday lives of the rural impact the rural locality also in different manners, resulting in a diversifying landscape: a landscape that is characterized by both the distinctive marks of agriculture and of tourism. For example, in the midst of the mountains with vast fields with haystacks stands a modern, large guesthouse, with a huge ‘Maramureş’ wooden gate and a touring car parked on its parking lane.

7.3 Conclusion: Tourism and the Politics of Place in Maramureş

This chapter has shown that tourism as well is an important driver behind landscape transformation in Maramureş. It contributed to all the trends of discursive and material landscape transformation: it is the main dynamic behind the construction of the formal representation and it is both a traditionalizing and a modernizing dynamic. Since tourism operators believe that tourism will cease when traditional architecture will disappear from the landscape, actors from the field of tourism also fiercely advocate for a traditional identity of the landscape in the place-conflict. Although tourism operators are thus one of the actors that advocate in proposition for heritage protection, they also find opposition from the heritage protectors while these perceive the trends of modernization and re-interpretation introduced in the landscape by tourism as destructive. As such, the position of tourism in the politics of place is somehow ambiguous and multi-stranded.

After the Revolution in 1989, Maramureş has went through considerable transformations while the borders were opened and now, the people of Romania could start to build relations between Maramureş and other places in the Occident that had before hardly been connected with. Besides, the economy of Maramureş collapsed and other economic activities were employed by the people of Maramureş, including tourism. Throughout the years, also political transformations took place, like the inclusion of Romania in the European Union in 2007, which made possible as well the application to EU-budgets and subsidies by civilians, like owners of guesthouses and farmers. All these practices have led to the creation of new relations and interconnectivities and hence, have contributed to the transformation of Maramureş. The domain of tourism comprises a series of such 180

interconnectivies and transformations discussed here. Firstly, when the economy of Maramureş had collapsed, the people of Maramureş started to seek other forms of income. Already before the Revolution, visitors used to come to the area for leisure purposes, although in rather limited numbers. After the Revolution, tourism increased and also foreign visitors started to come to Maramureş. In the relations that were built between the people of Maramureş and the visitors, the wishes and expectations of the tourists were expressed. Hence, the desire for a certain type of landscape and for traditional styles of life motivates tourists to come to Maramureş. In the networks of global cultural tourism, the cultural desire for landscapes that represent the rural idyll are present. A landscape as Maramureş is culturally desired because it symbolizes everything modern man has lost, including tradition, authenticity, romanticism, nostalgia, rurality, time, nature, purity, etcetera. While many cities and Southern regions of Romania and many countries of Europe and the West increasingly lack landscapes that meet these desires, places like Maramureş become the havens of leisure were modern men seeks his tradition, rurality and nature. Hence, the cultural desires of some cultures and societies, absent in some places become imposed – discursively and materially – on landscapes in other places, via connectivities established by the dynamic of tourism. While tourism actors increasingly were aware of the wish of tourists for this landscape and traditions, they increasingly tried to meet these expectations. Besides, they also used the cultural desire to attract tourists and brand Maramureş in order to lure other tourists to Maramureş. Herefore, they constructed the formal representation and distributed this representation in place-networks via books, brochures, internet, TV etcetera. Meanwhile, the formal representation was also reconstructed and reinforced because of practices like tourists publishing blogs and photos on Facebook, representing Maramureş as in the formal representation. Hence, the relations and connections established by tourism are crucial for understanding both why and how the formal representation became constructed and reconstructed.

Secondly, not only tourism actors and tourists and their connections are important for understanding the construction of the formal representation. Political processes and relations are important as well. After the collapse of the economy and the relative underdevelopment of certain regions of Romania, political actors and academic actors co-joined in designing projects for development. In the networks established between political actors like Romanian authorities and the EU, policy paradigms were exchanged, like the new rural paradigm. Like academic actors, it was argued by authorities that tourism is an important source for socio-economic development. Besides, while Maramureş is not the only region involved in tourism, it needs to find ‘unique assets’ to be ‘competitive’ in the networks of tourism. Hence, also the authorities and academic actors argue for place-branding and the marketing of Maramureş based on its wooden architecture and traditions. 181

Hereby, a European network of authorities, academics and tourism operators and tourists are all together behind the creation of the formal representation, although from different perspectives. Hence, within the domain of tourism, relations and connections have been built and are build; and new, hybrid assemblages created of different actors ranging from tourists, tourism hosts, authorities on different levels and academics. It is those assemblages and in those networks that facilitate and mediate the exchange of ideas and paradigms, the establishment of cooperation, the definition of representations, the development of place-marketing strategies, the creation of policies, etcetera. Hence, in these assemblages and networks, spatial identity and spatial practice is redefined and reconstructed and as such, place is re-made.

In this formal representation, the wooden churches of Maramureş are the prime symbols of the formal spatial identity. As discussed, without these wooden churches – or wood civilization in general – the tourism sector in Maramureş would be far less developed. Despite the fact that wooden churches can be found all over Transylvania, the formal representation portrays the churches as if they are unique to Maramureş and representative components for the region. As such, the wooden churches are used as symbols to demarcate Maramureş from other places. This reveals the significance of non-human elements as styles of vernacular architecture in the process of place- making in ruralities (Woods, 2007). Human actors may use such non-human elements as the wood civilization, but they will be unable to reach their aims unless this wood civilization performs its assigned role (Woods, 2007). That is, non-human actors have an agency of their own. Without the churches for example, tourism would not be so developed in Maramureş. And it is a fact that the churches that are preserved in a better condition attract more tourists and the same is true for the churches that are better accessible because they are more centrally located in the area or closer to main roads. These examples illustrate the agentic role that vernacular architecture has, together with human actors in the creation of the ‘Land of Wood’: the human construction of the touristic circuit of Maramureş, based on its wood civilization, depends on the very characteristics and conditions of these architectural constructions. Hence, these non-human actors have an agency of their own and co-determine the outcome of this specific construction of place, i.e. of Maramureş as ‘Land of Wood’. Especially the recent landscape transformations and the disappearance of a specific and important part of the wood civilization – i.e. the wooden houses – shows the importance and agency of non-human actors: human actors can portray Maramureş as traditional, but will not reach their aim of attracting tourists, as long as the wood civilization does not ‘cooperate’. Hence, such processes of constructing certain spatial identities are the outcome of complex interactions and relations between both human and non-human actors. That is, the construction and re-making of place is based on hybrids of human and non-human actors and agency (Woods, 2007). 182

The recent landscape transformations in which the traditional wood civilization starts to gradually disappear, stands in contradiction with the formal representation, which keeps portraying Maramureş as Land of Old and Land of Wood. This threatens tourism, while tourists will cease to visit Maramureş if the wooden architecture disappears altogether. As discussed in former chapters, the cultural heritage protectors find hardly possibilities to protect and preserve cultural heritage as they would like to see it. Yet, the actors in the domain of heritage protection found way more room to move, while they redefined ‘traditional architecture’ and not only adapt and rebuild the wooden houses still left in the landscape, but also introduced styles that are interpretations and imitations of ‘traditional’ houses. Although these styles are contested and some call it a ‘disney-fication’ of landscape, it is clear that the tourism actors are about the only actors in Maramureş that have the ability to influence and impact the landscape in traditionalizing sense. So, next to trends of decrease in wooden architecture and of modernization of architecture, a new trend of ‘traditionalization’ of the landscape is now taking place, facilitated and channeled by relations and connections built by tourism actors as guesthouse owners and tourists. Because of the need of a ‘traditional outlook’ of the landscape that is in accordance with the formal representation and with the cultural desires of the tourists, facilitated by tourist-host relations and interactions, this new trend and spatial practices came to be. Hence, this illustrates that the outcome of the politics of place is not pre-determined but that a place-conflict as in Maramureş can open up existing situations and create new forms of spatial identity and spatial practice. These new spatial practices become visibly manifest here, while a diversity of new styles, applications and interpretations of ‘traditional architecture’ are the result of relations and connections between hosts and tourists but as well as a result of relations in the construction arena, like between architects and owners of touristic resorts. Not only does the conflict open up existing patterns for new spatial practices, it also creates new forms of spatial identity. In the ongoing contestations and discussions about identity and traditions related to how Maramureş should be portrayed to visitors, but as well in interaction between hosts and these very visitors, place-meanings are developed and as well transformed. While mainly tourism actors, in contradiction to cultural heritage protectors, do not intent to keep a strict interpretation and application of the ‘traditions’ of Maramureş alive, there is room for traditions to be adapted and for spatial identities to hybridize. ‘Traditional houses’, for example, are adapted to modern needs but retain ‘traditional’ elements and the ‘traditional’ costumes are not-longer solely hand-made and enriched with modern fabrics and shoes. So, within the domain of tourism, expressed in the modern- day expressions of ‘traditions’ in for example architecture, and costumes, it becomes clear that spatial identity and spatial practice is re-made. This re-making of place is facilitated and mediated in relations that stretch out over space, in interconnectivities fostered by tourism. That is, in negotiations taking place in the relations between tourists and their hosts about tourists’ desires and 183

expectations – cultural desires – and about what hosts have to offer – formal representations – etcetera. Besides, such re-making of place is taking place in contestation taking place in relations between disagreeing actors that contest over place-meaning and manifestations of ‘traditions’ and ‘traditional architecture’. Moreover, such re-making of place is a process of hybridization, with hybrids of human and non-human actors, hybrid assemblages of increasingly different and distant actors and is resulting in hybridized outcomes with landscapes characterized by a mix of styles, representing a plurality of new spatial identities and new spatial practices. Hence, place-making in Maramureş under globalization – that is, in a situation of increasing interconnectedness – is a process of hybridization, negotiation and contestation, rather than of domination or subordination to some abstract, homogenizing forces. Furthermore, place-making under globalization as such does not lead to the homogeneity of places or the erasing of specificity of place; rather, due to such process of hybridization, places are different from how they were before, but keep their uniqueness (Woods, 2007):

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Chapter 8: Conclusion

This chapter discusses the thesis’ main conclusions. It answers the main research question and sums up the main features of globalization. It will introduce some considerations that for future research.

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8 Conclusion

8.1 Relational space, politics of place and landscape transformation

This thesis has examined landscape transformation in Maramureş and has focussed on the main research question of how the landscape of Maramureş is redefined and reconstructed in interconnectivities established by migration, tourism and cultural heritage protection. Besides, this topic has been explored from a relational perspective to place. This chapter seeks briefly summarize the answer to the research question, to summarize the main conclusions of the thesis and to make recommendations both concerning academic research on ruralities and globalization and concerning the place-conflict and heritage protection in Maramureş.

In a relational understanding of place, places are understood as the points of intersection of social networks that stretch out over and span the globe (Massey, 1991). Maramureş should also be understood as being embedded in relations and interconnectivities. After the Revolution of 1989, mobility has increased substantially and many new relations and assemblages of actors have been established. Hence, Maramureş is characterized by a multiplicity of actors and relations, ranging from returning migrants, tourists, authorities and cultural heritage protectors to guesthouse owners, academics and many others. This multiplicity of practices can be divided into three domains: cultural heritage protection, migration and tourism. In their daily lives and practices, they build and exploit relations, interconnectivities, coalitions, co-operations and assemblages of actors; this has caused transformations of spatial identity and spatial practice.

Interconnectivities and relations established in the domain of tourism, between tourist hosts, tourists, authorities and academics, have mediated the exchange of cultural desires for tradition landscapes and policy paradigms about place-based development. Hence, these assemblages have facilitated the branding of Maramureş by the creation of a formal representation of the region as Land of Old and Land of Wood, since the 1970s. This formal representation clashes with the landscape as it lays before us in Maramureş, due to the transformation of the architecture of the build landscape since the 1950s. Hence, two opposite spatial identities dominate the place-conflict, labeling Maramureş either traditional or rather modern. Many residents prefer the modern spatial identity and spatial practices. This modernization of architecture is driven by new spatial identity and practices, co-constructed in the relations and connections established by migrants, based on the new values and ideas about styles of residing that they brought in via these interconnectivities. As a 187

reaction on the modern houses, cultural heritage protection started off since the 1970s. The contestedness of spatial identity and spatial practice stimulated cultural heritage protectors to exploit existing relations and to start building new assemblages of actors, relations and interconnections in order to preserve ‘traditional architecture’ and a ‘traditional Maramureş’. Such interconnections include relations with UNESCO, but as well European authorities, other heritage protectors and museums. Hence, the politics of place has transgressed place and the reconstruction of spatial identity and spatial practice, that is, the re-making of place, takes place in the many assemblages and interrelations of which Maramureş is part; while place is in essence the sum of its relations: place is relational. Moreover, the cooperation, discussions, contests and negotiations between all these actors from these three domains – channelled and mediated by the interconnectivities of which they are part – have caused transformations of spatial identity and spatial practice. Hence, place (‘Maramureş’) is re-made in sets of assemblages of actors and interrelations and their practices. Place is a product of practices and interrelations (Massey, 2004a: 5).

The landscape of Maramureş is redefined and reconstructed as follows. Firstly, concerning the transformation of spatial practices, there are three trends of transformation in architectural styles taking place: (1) the exclusion of traditional houses and architecture from the landscape since the 1950s; (2) the modernization and urbanization of architecture since the 1960s; and (3) the preservation of traditional houses and architecture and introduction of a plurality of neo-traditional and Disney-fication styles of houses since the 1970s. Concerning the transformation of spatial identity, there are two main trends of transformation taking place: (1) the construction of a traditional spatial identity of Maramureş, including the construction of a formal representation of Maramureş since the 1970s; and (2) the formation of a modern spatial identity of Maramureş, which is a new, urban and modern identity which represents new definitions of status and comfort.

Due to the clash between these traditional spatial identity/practice and the modern spatial identity/practice, a place-conflict arose in Maramureş over the outlook of the landscape. Herein, actors meet and seek to influence each other in three arena’s: the media-arena, the political-arena and the construction-arena. The media-arena is characterized by its discursive power – that is, the ability of the proponents of a traditional Maramureş to use the media to influence the public opinion and facilitate public debate. The political-arena is characterized by its legislative power – that is, the ability to influence and steer the conflict by constructing a legal vacuum through non-legislation and non-execution of regulations. The construction arena is characterized by its material power – that is, by being the only area that has the ability to influence the landscape in material sense, by designing 188

and implementing architectural styles. So, although proponents of a traditional spatial identity/practice have the ability to set a representation and spatial identity, like the formal representation, they do not have the ability to translate this into spatial practices and material realities, because the proponents of a modern Maramureş have all opportunity to build whatever they want. On the other hand, proponents of a modern Maramureş have the ability to perform the spatial practices that they desire and to construct whatever they want, but do not have the ability to express their spatial identities and represent their architectural practices as ‘being of Maramureş’. Hence, this results in the re-making of place through a complex politics of place: all actors conflict over the landscape discursively in the place-conflict, meanwhile, in their daily practices, they all act towards the landscape as pleases them. These diverse and uneven spatial practices result in the re- making of place and hence, a heterogeneous, chaotic and multi-styled landscape comes to exist, in which also new styles are introduced like neo-traditional architectural styles. This also illustrates that the outcome of the politics of place is not pre-determined but that a place-conflict as in Maramureş can open up existing situations and create new forms of spatial identity and spatial practice, resulting in diversified and hybridized landscape outcomes.

8.2 Relational space and globalization

So, the relational analysis in this thesis has shown that the remaking of place cannot be understood apart from practices and interrelations, built and exploited by actors. The importance of interrelations in the transformation of place points at the relevance of examining globalization in reference to the transformation of rural places (and place in general) – as was done in this thesis. However, as this thesis has illustrated as well, understanding the proceeding of globalization should also be done in relational terms, doing away with the understanding of globalization as an abstract, dominating and homogenising force, ‘acting upon’ places from an abstract ‘outside’ and un-placed sphere. This paragraph will sum-up the features of globalization that the case of Maramureş has illustrated, from a relational perspective to place.

In developing the relational approach to place, Massey wants to do away with a false binary of dichotomizing the local and the global. Firstly, because the ‘global’ should not be seen as an abstract force which is ‘un-located’, but as embedded and emplaced in the ‘local’ (Massey, 2005: 101). The case of Maramureş has illustrated that globalization is not such an abstract and ‘un- located’ force, but proceeds by embedded practices of building and exploiting relations and interconnections and is thus embedded in concrete practices of actors and therefore also en-placed and embedded in the ‘local’. While the ‘global’ is actually the sum of relations and connections, the 189

‘global’ is very much rooted in the ‘local’ and thus in the practices of actors and in the ‘local’ – that is, in places.

Secondly, in a dichotomizing view to the ‘global’ and the ‘local’, places are always the victim of the ‘global’, as if places are devoid of agency. The case of Maramureş has illustrated that places are not just victims, but also not just defenders. Places have an active role in globalization, that is, they co-constitute globalization processes. By establishing and re-fashioning relations across space, the actors involved make that the re-making of place in Maramureş forms an expression of globalization. Hence, this exemplifies the active and agentic role of places, their actors and their practices in globalization. Hence, places constitute both themselves and ‘the global’ (Massey, 2005: 101).

This is not only true for global cities, a claim established in global city theory, but also rural places play an agentic role in globalization, as the case of Maramureş illustrates. In recent decades, the idea that places are not only victims, nor defenders, but co-constitute globalization processes has been developed and applied in global city theory, by authors as Sassen and Castells. However, as Woods (2007) has hypothetically suggested with his term ‘global countryside’ and as the case of Maramureş has illustrated, rural areas are not per se geographies of exclusion, i.e. places that are victims or at best defending themselves against the ‘forces of globalization’. Rather, rural areas as well co-constitute global interconnectivity and globalization processes. Hereby, the urban bias in globalization studies is unjust, although Woods correctly states that ‘there are no rural localities that can be labeled at present as ‘global countryside’ in quite the same way as London and New York are described as ‘global cities’ (Woods, 2007: 492). Hence, the role of cities as compared to rural areas in shaping global processes will be uneven, but we need to acknowledge that rural places as well have agency in the globalization process and we need to include the rural in globalization studies, next to the urban as object of study and also develop research comparing the role of the urban and the rural in globalization processes.

In a perspective of a global/local dichotomy where places are depicted as defending themselves against globalization, place-conflicts are analysed in terms of the politics of resistance against globalization. The case of Maramureş has illustrated that place-conflicts in a context of transformation, embedded in interconnectivities, does not necessarily mean that actors resist and oppose globalization. Different logics of globalization might stand in tension and therefore, some of these logics might be contested in order to advance some other logics of globalization. In the case of Maramureş, modernization of architecture brought in by mobility is contested because it stands in tension with the logics of tourism. However, this politics of place are not a politics of resistance 190

against globalization, but rather a politics over the engagement with globalization. this illustrates how places are not just victims, but also not centres of defence against the ‘powers of the global’. Rather, the ‘global’ and the ‘local’ stand ‘not in opposition to each other, but in negotiation’ (Woods and McDonagh, 2011: 156).

Thirdly, the increasing interconnectedness of places makes that the boundaries of places are increasingly fluid. Fluidity of place causes that no longer coherent place identities and single senses of place exist, and actually a place exists out of different places at the same time: one location, different places. This problematizes the notion of boundaries. As the case of Maramureş has illustrated, it also causes that the re-making of rural place involves conflicts over place-meaning: while places become increasingly fluid, its boundaries erase and its experienced identities multiply, causing negotiation and contestation over the identity of place and the most appropriate spatial identity and practice. Hence, the re-making of place involves a politics of place and is always a process of contestation and negotiation.

Moreover, a relational perspective to place reveals that globalization proceeds through hybridization. In the first place, new assemblages and interconnections of actors are created, so that places become constituted by ever new and unique formations of relations. Hereby, globalization is not creating homogeneity, but heterogeneity, hybridity and a plurality of places. Secondly, rural places consist of hybrids of human and non-human actors, while human actors depend as well on non-human actors and agency in their construction of place. Thirdly, the re-making of place results in hybridized outcomes, in which places are not the same as they were before, but are always unique and distinct from other places. So, a relational perspective to place, applied to Maramureş, exemplifies that the relation between globalization and ruralities is not one of domination, subordination, nor victimization; but of hybridization, negotiation and contestation.

8.3 Future directions

A relational perspective to place, applied to Maramureş, exemplified that the relation between globalization and rurality is not one of domination, subordination, nor victimization; but of hybridization, negotiation and contestation. As such, application of a relational perspective to place to rural places, rather than to urban places solely, is very promising indeed; not only in theory but as well in empirical studies, as this thesis has shown. Such an approach offers analytical power to understand and unravel how places are remade and offers tools to study the actors and processes that contribute to the re-making of place. The research agenda of the ‘global countryside’, introduced by Michael Woods, as such deserves more attention in coming years, especially while the 191

European countryside increasingly transforms. Overall, the relational perspective to place has been picked up by some authors already, but should be further developed in coming years, while it is a promising theoretical perspective to better understand the functioning of globalization and how it relates to the re-making of place, as well as the complexity, innovation and resilience of places and in particular ruralities. Let me introduce some considerations that I think might be especially interesting for future research.

Firstly, this thesis has discussed and shown that the notions of ‘territoriality’ and ‘scale’ becomes increasingly problematic entities for understanding processes of place-making. While we can hardly speak of ‘boundaries’ to place and while the world is becoming increasingly interconnected, it is hard to speak of ‘local’ and ‘non-local’ and ‘local’ and ‘global’. Although Ash Amin already suggested move towards ‘non-territorial’ ways of defining space and place, most analyses still do not radically overcome such boundedness to territoriality, also within relational approaches. If for example a migrant from Maramureş lives in Spain, would we divide that person into the ‘local’ or the ‘global’ actors of the re-making of place in Maramureş? Or both? And a local head of parish, who connects with international networks to have his church included in the World Heritage Lists, is he only a ‘local’ actor or as well a ‘global’ actor due to the fact that he is so connected into global spheres? Hence, interconnectivity, flows and the fluidity of place obscures the old notions of defining place in terms of scales and boundaries and new ways of defining place need to be developed, no longer in terms of territoriality, but in terms of relationality. Ash Amin’s ‘length of relation’ instead of scale might provide a good starting point.

Secondly and connected hereto is the need for more and different case-studies. My case- study in Maramureş is one of few case-studies employed from a relational perspective to place. I like to argue for more case-studies, because application of the theory and reflection hereon offer a useful strategy for the critical evaluation and improvement of the approach. I would like to stimulate other researches to take a slight other approach than I did concerning the selection of the study area. As I argued above, a relational approach to place should do away altogether with defining place in terms of territoriality and scale and define place in relational terms. Hence, we should also develop methods accordingly. My study was, for practical reasons, based on a territorial unit of research, that is, a county and more specifically one village within this county. It might be interesting for other case studies to research sets of relations rather than a territorial area, to reveal what such relations mean to places and the constitution of place.

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