A Romanian successful writer in Australia, lives in Sydney and evokes her grandparents’ village

Published in Newsweek Romania by Florin Budescu, September 30, 2024

A Romanian successful author in Australia, lives near Sydney and tenderly recalls her grandparents’ village. Anişoara Musteţiu departed from her hometown, Bucerdea Vinoasă, nestled near the Apuseni Mountains, and now resides by the sea after a life journey that took her through Germany.

“Timișoara—the place I was destined to be born and where I was raised—remains, to me, a mirage,” says the Romanian woman from the Antipodes.

“When I return to Romania, I have a little corner of paradise. It’s the village where my grandparents lived—Bucerdea Vinoasă, in Alba County. For me, it is a sacred place,” affirms Anişoara Musteţiu.

 

In 1990, she left Romania during the wave of mass emigration following the Revolution. She settled in Germany, where she lived and worked for 24 years—a country where, she says, “human qualities are respected and appreciated.”

She moved to Sydney in 2014. “Sydney is also the land where I once again established strong ties with Romanian culture, and where I began a vibrant activity as a writer and publicist,” the Romanian woman explains.

Living in Sydney, within a dynamic multinational community, she was surprised to discover “a little Romania—dynamic, creative, inspirational.”

“The Romanian churches in Sydney contribute greatly to preserving our homeland’s traditions and customs. The Romanians in this metropolis (around 3,000) carry in their hearts a deep longing for home. I believe they often soothe this longing in church or at Romanian cultural events,” Musteţiu says.

She is the daughter of poet and sculptor Romulus Musteţiu.

“When the scorch of longing pierces my being, the steps of my heart turn toward a place called ‘home.’ They turn toward that house with windows framed in smiles of love,” she says.

She continues, as quoted by ziarulunirea.ro:
“I return in thought to my grandparents’ village, to the place where their sacred existence once infused the room with fragrance. My gaze lingers in that little chamber bathed in their endless kindness. I can still feel it there—a warm, benevolent light. Such peace! I rest beside memories that flicker like a lit candle, burning with an eternal flame of the past. Grass has grown in the courtyard. Tender blades of bright, intense green now cover and protect the footsteps of my grandparents, of my mother, and my childhood steps.”