My shitty pictures from Moldova
Unlike previously I will start with the English part and then give a Polish translation. The reason is simple – this post is actually an answer to the e-mail I received a few days ago: “Where are your Moldavian shitty pictures? Michel lost his camera stupidly (he forgot it on the roof of his car before driving back home). Ciao!” So well – here they are all right! From Chisnau and from Soroca .
Anyway – this e-mail reminded me that not only I have never posted pictures from this trip but also mentioned the escapade only once.
Last summer I went on the lonely trip to Ukraine, Romania and Moldova. After I got back I was busy with preparations for my studies in Barcelona and in Barcelona… well I was THERE. So now it is high time to write something about this trip and as I was asked about Moldova, I shall start with it, although it was the third country on my list back then.
Flavienne and Michel were the two French guys I met in the hostel in Suceava (Romania). We went for the same trip around medieval monasteries which make the whole Bucovia neighborhood famous and in the meanwhile decided to move on to Moldova together. Guys planned to visit Chisnau and some little village known for it’s wine production but I managed to convince them to go with me to Soroca instead – the Gypsy capital of the country and I shall say - the whole area.
Unfortunately Chisnau soon turned out to be one of the ugliest cities I have ever visited in my entire life. All made of concrete, almost without plants or decent green areas. The center – all built in soviet style reminded me of some forgotten suburbs of Warsaw. We couldn’t even find a proper party to drink ourselves silly on the Saturday night.
So the next day we moved on to Soroca. At first sight it also was a sad, grey, little town totally burned with South-European sun. All there seemed to be was an old medieval castle, unattractive and empty inside, empty streets and few hungry dogs. Nothing that would look like exceptional examples of gypsy architecture described by Polish writer Andrzej Stasiuk in one of his books.
As the place seemed to be deserted, with only one open bar we decided to follow two guys from Belarus that we met earlier that day on the bus from Chisnau. They were inviting us on the hippie festival – “Rainbow” was it’s name if I remember well.
We left our stuff at the hotel and went to the bus station where we met the Russian Hippie Girl who spoke really good English (which was much of a relief for me as my Russian – spoken in Moldova more often than Moldovan – is rather poor). In the group of four we took a bus to suburbs where we were supposed to start hitch-hiking.
And when the old, used-out bus started climbing up the hills through narrow almost street-like roads, I saw what Stasiuk was describing – gypsy palaces on the dumping ground. It was sunset and I was taking pictures from the bus so they really are shitty but I hope they will let you imagine how extraordinary the place is.
By the time we reached the road leading out from Soroca it was almost dusk. And I have to admit that I had no intention of hitch-hiking at night – first because I had an early morning bus to Odessa, second – because I started being jealous for the Russian girl who attracted too much of my companions’ attention, haha… Luckily the problem solved itself – the songster of the “Rainbow” community left us with the first car that stopped by and did not seem worried about the fact that there was no place for us.
We decided to get back to the hotel and drink the wine we bought for the road. I knew that guys were not very happy about the sudden change of plans – especially with Michel constantly repeating “fuck the hippies” but a nice surprise was waiting on our way – on the whereabouts of the center we bumped into a Gypsy Orchestra. To be honest the party was just coming to an end but it made the whole trip to Soroca simply worth it.
And I am still grateful to the guys for joining me – you made really good company!
Well, we go with the Polish "translation":
Post first published in English for the simple reason that it is a response to an email which I received a few days ago: "Where are your crappy Moldovan photos? Michel stupidly lost my camera (left it on the roof of the car and went home.) Ciao! "The so my pictures I present: the Chisinau and Soroca .
However, this email reminded me that not only are they never pictures of this trip did not publish, in addition to just about it once mentioned.
During the last holiday I went alone on a tour of Ukraine, Romania and Moldova. Upon returning I was busy preparing for departure to study in Barcelona, \u200b\u200bin Barcelona ... I was just. So I guess it's time skrobnąć few words about this escapade, and that Flavienne asked about Moldova, it is from the start. His
and Michel met in a hotel in Suceava, Romania. We went to the same objazdówkę the nearby medieval monasteries, praising all of Bukovina and in the meantime we decided together to go to Moldova. Guys were planned visit to Chisinau, and some a village famous for its vineyards, but I managed to persuade them that they went with me to the Soroka - bohemian capital of the country, actually - in the region.
Unfortunately for us, Chisinau quickly proved to be one of the most ugly cities I have ever seen - it was a real Soviet concrete behemoth, no green, gloomy. Center looked like some forgotten suburb of Warsaw. And despite Saturday night we got not even for a decent pub, where you would wash down the nasty impression.
far we were to grief when Soroka went to on Sunday morning. But on the spot waiting for us another disappointment - the gray, sad town with empty streets, whose only attraction seemed to be very attractive medieval castle, which was not even something to watch. Barely a few starving dogs went our way. Nothing looked as promised in Andrzej Stasiuk's book "Coming to Babadag.
remained not us, then nothing else but take the advice of two boys from Belarus, which met on the bus from Chisinau to a neighboring town to the festival hippie "Rainbow" (if this is called - memory no longer is.)
rubbish we left the hotel and headed to the bus station, where he met Russian girl who speak it pretty good English, which for me was a real relief, because, unfortunately, a shame to admit, my Russian (Moldavia and often speaks in Russian than in their native language) had already largely evaporated. So the four of us boarded the bus that drove to the outskirts of town, where we catch a further rate journey.
And when that old, worn out jalopy he ascended the narrow bumpy road, which did not resemble the street, I understood what Stasiuk tried to describe. On both sides of the road every now and again began to grow Gypsy palaces - the kingdom of the junkyard. As the sun was setting and the pictures I did on the bus, they really are crappy, but I hope that, although some weak will give an idea of \u200b\u200bhow amazingly beautiful this place is.
When we arrived finally at the last stop, dusk. I had less and less want to stop driving at night, mainly because that morning I had to catch a bus to Odessa, and moreover - our Russian companion consumed far too much attention to my colleagues, so I became jealous. Fortunately, the problem solved itself - piewczyni community under the banner of "Rainbow" had left the first car that has stopped and is not worried that we ran out of space. So
bought wine on the road and went back - Michel kept saying "fuck the hippies", but I knew that they were disappointed by the sudden change of plans. Before a condemnation saved my gypsy orchestra, for which we found already reaching to the center. And although it was the end of the event, the music made the entire trip, however, these parties took on meaning. Miss Disaster