Adventures in Europe: Chisinau, Moldova

The Cosmos Hotel proved to be a real experience.  It has something like 19 floors, with at least 10 rooms a floor--possibly double that--so it is a pretty large hotel, and maybe the tallest building in Chisinau.  It is also in a really prime location, and has a nice square in front of it.  This was the view from my room on the seventh floor:

So, the hotel was probably quite nice at some point, and still has potential.  But, the reality is that it is tired and poorly kept up and, frankly, dirty.

Nonetheless, it gave me exactly the post-Soviet experience I was looking for.  There was a souvenir shop in the lobby, somewhat surprisingly since a) the Hotel Cosmos does not appear to get a lot of guests and b) Moldova generally does not get a lot of tourists.  It was, however, closed by the time I arrived.  I could see postcards behind locked glass, and asked the girl at the reception desk if she could sell me one.  No, tomorrow after 8:00, she said.  Tomorrow (today) was Sunday, so the post office would be closed, so I headed over there last night to get a stamp.  On the way back to the hotel I stopped at a grocery store in one of several shopping malls around the hotel to get some dinner.  The mall was very nice as malls go, but I understand "Malldova" (clever, eh?) is even nicer.

I ate dinner in my hotel room, including this Ukranian beer (I was trying to make up for the lack of Ukrainian experience from yesterday).

Despite all kinds of things wrong with my room, including visibly dirty/stained blankets, I slept wonderfully.

I woke up to make sure I maximized the sun.  Breakfast was supposed to be served at 7:30, so I went to the restaurant at 7:35: locked, and no one seemed to be inside.

"Well, I'll come back," I decided.

I checked out from my room and hit the quiet streets of Sunday morning Chisinau.  I was leaving Moldova early in the afternoon, so I was wanting to make the most of the morning to see some of the city.  The first place I went was Cathedral Park, named for the cathedral below.

There is also a triumphal arch at this park, and across the street is Government House.

There are also these monuments, very reminiscent of the anti-communism memorial monument in Bucharest.

From Cathedral Park I drove to the main train station.  I thought there was a possibility I could maybe find a postcard there.  This monument is in the square in front of the train station, a memorial to the victims of communism.  No doubt this is a simplification, but at least in terms of public expression, the feelings about the Soviet past in Moldova versus Transnistria appear starkly opposite.  

The difference is also emphasized by the fact that, despite not being an EU member, EU flags are flying all over Chisinau, and in Tiraspol I saw at least a dozen Russian flags--and certainly no EU ones.

The train station, while an impressive building, did not have anywhere selling postcards.

It was now 8:20, so I returned to the Hotel Cosmos.

The souvenir shop, which supposedly opened at 8:00 was not open; the girl at the reception desk shrugged when I asked.

The restaurant, which supposedly opened at 7:30 but was not open at 7:53, was now open at 8:20.

I ate a breakfast that was as sad as the building it was served in.  Mostly the food was low quality and not fresh, but what was most sad to me was its presentation--entirely haphazard with absolutely no apparent attempt at anything resembling beauty or even logical organization.  It was a far cry from the incredible pride I had been served with yesterday in Butuceny, where I was not allowed to even sit down at the table until it had been made up with tablecloth, candle, and so on.  Anyway, I ate, and went back downstairs to see if the souvenir shop was open.  Still, no.  

"Maybe 9:30," the girl told me.

Since I really wanted a postcard, I decided to wait.  Anyway, the Hotel Cosmos is something of a museum in a way, so I explored.  Yesterday, when I parked my car, a doorman had led me through some of the back hallways.  He spoke no English, but he was friendly and excited to show the hotel to me.  It seemed obvious he did not think it was a lovely building, either.  He used the word "imperial" to describe its construction which of course could just be the best word he could come up with, or, I think, might be indicative of how Moldovans view the USSR's role in their history.  In any case, today I was on my own, but I wandered all over, not once finding a door locked.  In fact, some of the unoccupied hotel rooms not only were unlocked, but had the doors wide open!  What was just as hard to find as a locked door was light--most of the halls were unlit.  Overall it reminded me a lot of the hotel I stayed at in Pyongyang, DPRK.

Finally at 9:45 a new girl at the reception desk told me what was becoming pretty obvious: the souvenir shop probably was not going to open today because it was Sunday.

Very well.  I still had over an hour before I had to be at the airport, so I decided I would continue exploring Chisinau and also continue looking for a postcard.  

I headed to some museums.  I never found a postcard, but saw the military museum:

And the national history museum:

As well as the national art museum, which for some reason I did not photograph.  Lastly I went to a bookstore, which, while lacking in postcards, had an impressive collection of Jung books (I am always looking for Jung books, and they do not seem to be this popular in Edmonton!).

Having given up on the postcard, I drove to the airport to catch my flight to Istanbul.

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.