Before leaving Chisinau we had arranged to stay our third and last night of our driving trip in Ivancea, a small town 45 km north of the city. We made plans through Marisha, a one-woman dynamo who arranges lodging, tours, et al for people visiting Moldova. It's a family affair--her father Boris let us into the apartment when we arrived in Chisinau, and her mother Katya was our host in Ivancea. She is our third Moldovan muse.
When we arrived in Ivancea (after getting lost for an hour and a half), we were treated to a late, traditional lunch of stewed beef over mamaliga (like polenta) and a light cabbage, scallion, and jalepeno pepper salad (all from their garden) with Katya. The three of us in ate in the kitchen that Boris and Katya built away from the house--a small room lined with pine panels and toasty on the brisk fall day from a small heater in the corner. Over lunch and a bottle of Katya's home-made wine (delicious; Moldova is known for its light red wine and sweet sparkling whites), we got to know each other through our favorite language--photo album + hand gestures + small Russian phrase book (Katya speaks Russian and a little Moldovan; these days Russian is not taught in schools). Katya and Boris moved to the country ten years ago after living and working in Chisinau, where Katya was a librarian. We bonded over sweaters and cooking and farm life and babies (Marisha has two young ones and we had pictures of our sweet nieces and nephews in our photo album).
The first image is two photos of Katya and her family that hang in her kitchen. The gentleman on the right hand side of the lower photo looks a heck of a lot like Lesley's grandfather (see second black and white image).
Sunset stroll around Ivancea.
This was one of our favorite meals thus far. These are ґолубцьї (pronunced galubtsi), steamed cabbage stuffed with a mixture of rice, carrot, and a little pork. They are then steamed in broth. This is a common Eastern European dish that you find in Poland, Lithuania, Ukraine, etc. Joe had these twice in Vilnius and Katya's galubtsi made the Vilnius galubtsi seemed like hm, bricks wrapped in newspaper. They were actually quite good, but Katya's galubtsi were light, brothey buttery, velvetty pillows. The fact that you could fit an entire galubtsi in your mouth was heaven, they melted. We were still full from lunch but we enjoyed seconds, which included a small red pepper from Katya's garden filled with galubtsi filling. My oh my, good home cooking tops it all.
In the morning, Katya showed us around her garden. This stash of corn will keep the cocoros (chickens) well fed during the winter.
Katya and Boris keep around twenty cocoros.
Katya's root cellar, filled with jars of preserved vegetables, strawberry compote, a barrel of wine (plus lots of random bottles full of wine), six crates of small red potatoes, cooking oil, and carrots and beets stored in the sand. We were envious and inspired.
A farmer's breakfast. Clearly local sausages, farm fresh eggs, and that delicious cabbage salad with scallion and jalepeno.
We left Katya's place at 9 in a blissful state. Back in Chisinau, we provisioned for a 24-hour train ride, returned the car at 11, and boarded the 11:50am train to Poland. The platform was packed with people sending their loved ones off. Only our car headed west from the Moldovan/Ukraine border to Poland; all other cars headed north to Moscow. It was a totally different feel than the happy-returning home train ride we took into Moldova; it was a poignant way to end our short exploration of Moldova.
A practically empty car this time, with a cabin all to ourselves. And a door.
This train ride was like a quiet, slow movie or painting of the Moldovan countryside. The train never gets above 40 km an hour and we spent a lot of time staring out the window. It was peaceful. We also missed the people and liveliness from our train ride down.
Multsumesc, Moldova. Pa!
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