Adventures in Europe: Butuceny, Moldova

Yesterday I flew from Bucharest to Chisinau, Moldova, on a little Tarom ATR-42.

I picked up a rental car at the airport.  I had made my reservation with Enterprise, but Sixt is their agent at the KIV airport.  Apparently I was lucky, because Enterprise does not actually communicate to Sixt when there is a reservation; Sixt had a car for me, but it was definitely an upgrade over the economy car I had reserved!

I drove through Chisinau (the airport is south of the capital) and north.

After leaving the city, I began noticing wells along the highway, and eventually I stopped to check one out.

Inside the shelter was this inlaid wooden carving, which obviously showed St. George slaying the dragon.  Later I learned that St. George is Moldova's patron saint.

I have never drawn water from a well, so I figured I may as well try it!

I left the highway shortly after the well, and made my way through the countryside until I reached the village of Butuceny, where I found my bed and breakfast.

There was still a little daylight left, so I went for a walk through the village (with a beer named after Moldova's capital!).

There is a ridge above Butuceny, and on top is a church.  I walked up to it and looked around.  Butuceny is famous for an ancient monastery in a cave in this ridge (apparently it is Moldova's biggest tourist attraction!), but I could not find it last night.

The thing that most interested me last night was that manger type thing with the Christmas lights on it in the picture below.

This is what was inside:

The church itself was closed, so I walked back down.  It was getting dark now, anyway.

Back at the bed and breakfast, I ate dinner from a menu entirely in Romanian.  I ended up with way too much food and a glass of Moldovan wine (believe it or not, Moldova produces a lot of wine!).

The borscht was lovely, and the bread is fried with a goat cheese inside so it was, of course, delicious.  I also ordered rabbit, but I did not realize that was what I was choosing when I picked it from the menu.

After a massive dinner, this morning I had an equally massive breakfast.  I am not sure if I was expected to eat everything, but I pretty much did.  

Here is what was laid out in front of me:

• fresh carrot juice
• fresh orange juice
• coffee
• homemade yogurt
• two freshly baked muffins (literally straight from the oven)
• two slices of bread with butter and some incredible jams
• a bowl of freshly made cheese-stuffed mini crepes

And even then I might be forgetting something.

Absolutely stuffed, I paid my bill and headed back down the village road . . .

. . . and back up to the ridge.

I assumed the monastery was somewhere below the church grounds.

It was quite cold, so after looking around for ten minutes or so I was really disappointed and ready to give up when I could not find it.  

Then I realized maybe it was below the bell tower.

I was skeptical, but figured I should at least check.  I found this door, and pessimistically tried it.

In fact it opened.  It was pitch black inside, but I could just hear some singing or chanting, so I figured I might be on the right track.  I turned on my cell phone flashlight and made my way down a dozen or so stairs.  There was a faint smell of incense now, and this picture above another door.

I pushed the door; it creaked badly, but swung open, and, sure enough, I was inside the monastery.  Now I could see a monk, and realized there were worshipers or pray-ers inside as well.  I felt like I was intruding, but nobody seemed to pay me much attention--even as I made an even more ridiculous racket closing the creaking door.

I was extremely surreptitious about photography because  I was clearly invading a sacred space.  Anyway, the cave light and candles made for poor photographic conditions.

As I stood inside, I figured out that there was the monk, with a long beard and black clothes, who seemed to be going about his own business--working on a book, or something.  Meanwhile, there was a priest in white clothes, chanting and waving incense around, and he was mostly behind a screen, but came out once--which is how I knew what he looked liked.  In front of the screen were two women, who were praying and also occasionally responding or perhaps joining into the chanting.  

This video provides a sample of the sound--but of course cannot capture the underground, wooden, incense smell, nor the warmth from all of the candles.

I felt very uncomfortable being in the space as a tourist, so I did not stay long, and unfortunately made such a commotion leaving through the creaking door that the monk came over and shooed me upwards, taking over closing the door himself.  The monastery is apparently from the 13th century, and I wondered if the door was perhaps 700 years old as well.

Back outside, I walked back through the village to where my car was and climbed in.  I had plans for a road trip, and I was eager to get started, but soon after I left Butuceny, I passed this World War 2 memorial, which I pulled over to photograph.