Corund potters say EU money would mean a breakthrough. Most bake their wares in big old-fashioned, wood-burning ovens and use glazes that make most of the pottery unfit to eat from. The funds could help workshops make the switch to modern methods, increasing production and improving quality. Dina Kyriakidou reports from Corund, Romania Romanian village potters aspire to global fame

A Romanian pottery-making village that has survived centuries of poverty, near-isolation and even communist dictator Nicolae Ceausescu's "systematisation" is determined to become a global sensation.

"We want to be known all over the world," said Mihaly Katona, the mayor of Corund and a potter like most of the village's 6,000 people, most of whom are ethnic Hungarians.

The Transylvanian village plans to tap into European Union funds offered to Romania to prepare to join the bloc in 2007, to turn a cottage industry dating from the Middle Ages into a modern, booming enterprise.

Colourful shops full of pots and other tourist trinkets line the road criss-crossing Corund, set among rolling hills at the foot of the Carpathians, but on a winter morning few cars stop in front of its beautifully-carved wooden gates.

Locals hope that with a bit of investment their pottery can travel abroad, raising the living standards of the village backwater and bringing a centuries-old tradition to the world's attention.

Katona said most families in Corund - known in Hungarian as Korond - own a workshop and the rest trade the traditional earthenware. Ethnic Hungarians comprise seven per cent of Romania's population.

First documented by travellers in 1799, Corund's craft is passed down from father to son or mother to daughter.

"I watched other people do it and that's how I learned," said 50-year-old Erzsebet Bertalan as she carved flowers and birds on a large unbaked pot in her lap. "I know many designs. My daughters watch me and already know how to do it."

Corund's archaeology dates from the Bronze Age and documents show locals paid a papal tax as early as 1333. The poor soil discouraged agriculture and villagers dug the muddy banks of a nearby river to get raw material for their pottery.

This tradition and a 300 kilometres distance from the capital Bucharest spared the village Ceausescu's systematisation - a grandiose plan to turn the poverty-stricken Balkan country of about 22 million into an industrial powerhouse.

The communist dictator wiped out thousands of farming villages by forcibly relocating the population to city apartment blocks and making them work in mostly loss-making industries.

Inspired by Corund's tradition, the government founded modern pottery factories nearby but like many such communist projects, they collapsed.

"In the 1960s and 1970s the state opened three big factories here but they all failed," Katona said, indignant that anyone would try to industrialise such a traditional craft.

"This is hand-made art. Each piece is baked twice and is picked up for work by hand 23 times before it reaches the customer," he added.

Janos Ravasz worked at one of the factories as a young man before the 1989 revolt that ousted Ceausescu. When both the government and factories collapsed, he worked briefly in Hungary before returning home to start his own workshop with his family.

"After the revolution, business flourished," he said, his muddy hands transforming a lump of clay into a large vase on the potter's wheel.

Seen at most Romanian tourist spots, Corund's vases, cups, dishes and pots come in different shapes and sizes and are recognisable by their trademark Hungarian-inspired blue, green and maroon stylised natural motifs on a beige or dark background.

Although it spread through Romania and sells a few pieces through the internet, Corund's pottery has yet to make the boom villagers hope for, mirroring Romania's faltering efforts to reform its communist economy over the past decade.

Corund potters say EU money would mean a breakthrough. Most bake their wares in big old-fashioned, wood-burning ovens and use glazes that make most of the pottery unfit to eat from. The funds could help workshops make the switch to modern methods, increasing production and improving quality.

"All of the village could use the EU money. We can buy lead-free tints and glazes and get electric ovens," said potter Zoltan Ambrus, one of the few who export their products.

Foreign buyers usually visit the village shops, pick out what they like, fill up trucks and drive away to Hungary, Italy, Germany and other European countries, he said.

Accounting is primitive and locals say that although they export thousands of pieces a year, they have no figures on how large their business is or how much of it goes abroad.

Katona said 2002 tax accounts showed the village declared a $60,000 profit but admitted that the figure was nominal.

He said the potters were forming an association to assess their needs and draw up a study seeking a slice of EU funds from the Phare programme for regional development.

Phare is offering €250 million a year in 2002-2006 for Romania, the second biggest recipient after Poland.

His eye on the future, Katona said the village would make sure the money would not spoil its traditions. Some workshops and wood-fired ovens would be maintained for tourists to see.

"Because our next plan is to upgrade our infrastructure and bring people here for agro-tourism," he said.