My name is Elena, and when I was a child my parents and relatives used to call me Cocuța.
I was born and raised here, in Golești, in the 300 year old lordly house.
On a rich large valley, guarded in the north by the vineyards and in the south by the silvery and winding Argeș river, magestically lays the Golești Lordly House, with its wide windows, through which the sun peers in the generous jolly rooms.
Come, my dear ones, and gather around me if you wish to know how we lived, how we rejoiced, how we suffered, how we loved, how we fought and how we died. There are so many memories hidden between the walls of this mansion, so many bright ideas that were spoken and so many secrets that will be forever sealed in the old and wise Golești Lorldly House!
I grew up in a large family, surrounded by many relatives – grandparents, uncles, aunts, cousins-which offered love and endearment. We used to gather here, at Golești, the heart of our nation, around our great-grandmother Zinca and grandmother Anica and later on, after they departed, around aunt Felicia.
We were four brothers, 2 girls and 2 boys, the children of a local Golești woman, whose name was Ana- a peculiar beauty with a kind and compassionate soul. Father, Carol Davila, was a frenchman but his heart was of a romanian patriot. He was a doctor and had many responsabilities, trying to solve the issues of a medical system that was newly formed. Nevertheless, our father never forgot to play with us, caress us, discipline us when needed and most of all to inspire us with his love for the country and show us the tough reality of the romanian society’s life, guiding us to fight, so that our people would progress.
Along with Lică, my brother, we used to wander around the grounds and gardens all day long, followed by our hounds ( Ursu a happy, faithful, sturdy, black dog, Lupa with its long red fur, that had a fox-like hidden personality and Griveiu the sweetest of them, that had a soft spot for our great-grandmother’s flowers), which were our friends and playing companions, our confidents and the accomplices of our shenanigans.
Come, and be the witness of a marvelous garden, full of flowers and tall trees- hornbeams, oaks, sapphires (Japanese acacia), platans, catalpas, firs, peats, carps, spruces, tall poplars, white birches- which were arranged by my good uncle Alexandru ( Albu), as if they were characters of a script written on immortal ground, that offered never-before-seen faces, because up to now, each tree has its own posture and its own in-the-breeze song.
Castle sands, wooden constructions, carved pumpkins, dolls, drums, war trumpets and a magical garden, that echoed of happiness and good tidings were the elements that followed us throughout our childhood. However, our garden has never lost its magical powers. We used to come back to it every year, as if it were an everlasting spring, replacing the dolls with tennis games, fencing, painting, photography and riding.
Today, you’ve entered my home, my spirit being the sole host to honor your visit. Let the old lordly house tell its story, wander in the gardens, enjoy the fresh air, the rose scent, the shade of trees and the children’s joy that gives heart to my home!
We loved this house, it was the anchor that helped us prevail in difficult times.
Cherish our legacy, enjoy it and take our memory further!
Elena Perticari Davila