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Day 7


 
 
 
Monday, 13 August 2012
 
Start: Tergu Neamt 09:00
Arrival: Chișinău 18:30
Total: 285 km
 
 
 

 
We woke up really early after a night of tossing and turning. Sonia felt like a train had run over her, and I don't mean any of the cute little trains we had seen yesterday. We decided to skip breakfast and have something to eat on the road. I just wanted to leave this hotel as fast as possible. So we clambered with our luggage down the narrow staircase and gave the keys to the receptionist, along with our thanks and best wishes. We didn't want to raise a fuss about the bed, after all the accommodation had only cost 40 euros. Maybe that was all you could expect for the price. But the girl wouldn't let us leave. They had made us pay in advance, so what else did they want? The girl stayed with us in the hall to make sure we didn't up and leave, and another employee went up to the room to check whether everything was ok. We were flabbergasted: they were afraid that we had nicked the phone, or maybe a vase or a bedcover. These people knew how to make their guests feel welcome. So we waited patiently for them to inspect the room, which they took their sweet time to do, and then we were allowed to leave. Ciau!
 

 

The citadel

 
We stepped out into the early morning sun. There is not a situation in the world that isn't made better by stepping out into the morning sun. The air was fresh, the wind played in our hair and the world was smiling on us again. We were ready for the first visit of the day.
 
We left the car at the parking lot and headed for the nearby castle on the hill. Another steep walk uphill, but the sleepless night had somehow given us plenty of energy. The walk through the forest was wonderfully invigorating. At a few minutes before nine, we arrived at the castle. An impressive high bridge led to the castle gates. I craned my neck to see. Did I really have to get up there? The answer to this question is of course, invariably, yes. We were the first visitors and as the ticket booth only opened at 9 o'clock, we had to wait for the castle employee to get his stuff together. In the meantime, we got acquainted with his dog, a good-natured fellow who was probably looking forward to a quiet day lazing in the sunshine.
 
Armed with our tickets, we faced the bridge. It was really high. Sturdy stone beams supported a wooden bridge with a flimsy railing. Mentally, I could just about manage to stand on one of the pillars, but the wooden planks hovering over the abyss were quite another matter. But once you're past the first few pillars, there's nothing for it but to run as fast as possible along the entire bridge. The solid castle entrance at the end was beckoning, and I made it. Phewh!
 
The castle itself looked like a brandnew ruin. Meaning it was crumbling along the edges, but in a we've-just-built-it-this-way-yesterday fashion. Everything was neat and tidy and nicely renovated. From the inner courtyard, you could enter several rooms with furniture and lifesize waxwork figures to depict scenes from the feudal period. Other rooms were darker, with nooks and crannies and uneven stone steps to explore. One felt transported back to the times of Stefan cel Mare (Stephen the Great), the famous Moldavian ruler who built this castle in the 15th century. We liked this new-old castle quite a lot and would recommend it to anyone visiting this part of Romania.
 
Now it was time to head for the Moldovan border. On the road, we saw many old women sitting at the wayside selling grapes and other fruit. As we had some Romanian money left, we decided to buy a bunch of grapes off an old lady. But the fruit was so cheap, the old lady bent over backwards to give us enough fruit for our money. Adjusting her scales, she meticulously calculated how much we were entitled to and finally bestowed what looked like a kilo or more of grapes onto us. We would never be able to eat that many grapes, but we didn't want to offend her, and in any case she didn't seem to understand us, so we accepted the fruit. That way, the old lady was happy and so were we.
 

 

Iași

 
In Iași, a Romanian town on the border to Moldova, we got into a traffic jam. Time to marvel at the many uniform apartment buildings along the main street. They looked exactly the way I had pictured buildings in Moldova. Slowly inching forward, we noticed a sign for a shopping mall. Maybe it was a good idea to make a stop and have something other than grapes to eat.
 
The shopping mall was small, but new and pleasant. There were very few people around, which maybe isn't that astonishing on a Monday around noon. We walked around the shops and as I could do with a new pair of shoes, I spontaneously tried on a pair. They cost only 12 euros and were comfortable straight away. I still have them and use them, three years later, while some more expensive shoes have been discarded long ago. Here's to Romanian shoes, then!
 
We had lunch in a little pizza shop inside the mall. When we were ready to pay, we learnt that their credit card machine was broken. We needed to pay in cash. But we didn't have any money, we gave our last lei to the lady selling the grapes! No problem, the friendly young waiters directed us to a cash machine further down the corridor. Sonia left to get some money, while I sipped my latte. When I had finished the coffee, she still had not returned. I didn't dare leave, in case the waiters thought I was making a runner. Where on Earth was my sister? At last she came back, explaining that the ATM had not worked either. She'd had to find a bank, wait in line and change 10 euros there. It had been a Raiffeisen bank, the same we use back home. What a sweet coincidence. We paid for our food and were finally ready to brave the Moldovan border.
 
That meant leaving the European Union. This was that first time we would be driving into a former Soviet country, and this particular one was the poorest nation in Europe to boot, with an ongoing civil war smouldering in its eastern part (which, of course, we wanted to visit too). Were we crazy? Were we naive? No, my rapidly beating heart came from the fact that I had read too much nonsense written by scaremongering media and foreign offices.
 
Just before the border, we spent our last lei on a handful of apples sold at the wayside. They were tiny, green and sooooo good. Just like the apples back home in our yard when we were kids. None of them would have made it through the normed rigour of EU-regulationitis, and yet they were so good, so much better than the big, sickly-sweet standardized apples in our supermarkets.
 

 

Chișinău

 
I was a bit tense, not knowing what to expect at the border. Sonia was much more laid back, as always, but then she didn't have to deal with the border officials first hand. But it all went smoothly. The guys understood a bit of English and all in all, they were efficient and friendly. They asked to see our passports and let us pass quite easily.
 
After the very bad road situation in Romania, we had steeled ourselves for the worst in "the poorest nation of Europe". But what was this? The roads in Moldova were a charm. Very broad, asphalted, with nicely trimmed grass on the side and resting places from time to time. Who would have thought. Pleasantly surprised, we continued our journey towards the capital, Chișinău.
 
Chișinău is a bustling modern city with all the traffic congestion that this entails. Unfortunately, our sparse Google Maps printouts did not allow us to find the hotel right away. We cruised for about an hour through the town to try and get our bearings. Mostly, the traffic was not too bad, but one street was really mean: Strada Ion Creanga, a medium-sized street with traffic in both directions and, unfortunately vending stalls along the kerb. The traffic was so dense and hectic that suddenly the drivers had converted the two lanes into three lanes, with buses and taxis trying to squeeze in between. It was loud, it was chaotic, and yet it somehow did not end in gridlock. Cars to the left, cars to the right, a bus nearly on top of me ... I felt like a lemon in a squeezer and just wanted to get out of this madhouse. I made a right at the lower end of the street and Sonia screamed in delight: "Here it must be, we've almost found the hotel!"
 
Almost being the magic word. I turned right again and headed up a quiet side street, but the street we were looking for did not materialize. Sonia furrowed her brow. "It has to be somewhere in this area, though." We arrived at a roundabout and she instructed me to take the first exit. Which turned out to be none other than Strada Ion Crianga. Oh no, not that again, please! But there was nothing to be done, I couldn't turn around, so I had to do the whole length of the street once more.
 
When we arrived safely at the bottom, Sonia had made up her mind: "Turn right, then right again," she instructed me. Wasn't that what I had done last time? But really, there it was, the street we had been looking for. Just, unfortunately, barred to traffic because of roadworks. We should have driven around the block further down. An error that could not easily be corrected, as this was a one-way street. So I had to drive up to the roundabout once more.
 
"Oh no, I'm not going down that street a third time!" I protested, when I saw where this was heading. "You have to, now at least we know where we need to go. Or do you want to be lost in Chișinău again?" my sister warned. Moaning in protest, I once more turned into Strada Ion Crianga, once more feared for my side mirrors and once more made it to the bottom without a scratch. After this, we found the quiet side street with our hotel easily enough. But no matter what wonderful short stories this famous 19th-century Romanian author had written, I swore to myself that I would never ever read a single line by Ion Crianga! Now, three and a half years later, I still remember his name. So the experience did have something positive. And maybe I will one day read one of his books.
 
Our hotel was charming and quiet, the bed comfortable and our hosts most friendly. They provided us with a map of the town and we set out to explore the capital of Moldova on foot.
 
As we wandered around the streets, we soon found ourselves on the main boulevard, named after their famous ruler Stefan cel Mare. Here were all the main buildings, the city hall, government offices and theatres. We found its famous Triumphal Arch, a mini version of the larger Arc de triomphe in Paris, next to a small park. The arch was a monument to commemorate the victory of the Russians over the Ottomans in the early 19th century. As Moldova had long been a part of the Russian Empire and the Soviet Union, most inscriptions were in Russian as well as Romanian. We were deciphering the writing on it, when a young man asked us to please take a picture of him next to the arch. We obliged and got talking: he was a tourist from Lebanon, visiting Eastern Europe. Neat, that was a change from your usual American tourists.
 
Finally, we became hungry and went in search of a restaurant. We found a place with a large terrace and cosy tables underneath trees. Unfortunately, when we tried to order food, they explained that the kitchen had already closed for the night. It was barely nine o'clock! Disappointed, we left and tried another eatery. My hopeful "Mozhno yest?" was answered by a friendly "Mozhno, koneshno". Yes, we would not have to go to bed hungry! Luckily, everyone in Moldova spoke Russian, and mostly slowly enough that we could easily understand them. The menu was in Russian too, so we knew what we were ordering. This was the first time we handled a whole transaction in the language of Pushkin and we were proud how well it went. We had been learning Russian by yourselves for about a year, but this was the first time we actually tried to speak it. We ate an excellent dinner of chicken, French fries, peas and coleslaw.
 
It was well past 11 o'clock when we called it a night. The way back to our hotel was a bit of an adventure, because there were no street lights on, except on the main boulevard. We carefully put one foot in front of the next, because the sidewalk was quite uneven, with lots of treacherous bumps and holes. We passed a few people, presumably also on their way back home, and we all nodded to each other in a friendly manner. It made you feel like being a local. When we finally reached our hotel, I had already fallen in love with this beautiful city.
 

 

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