The Orheiul Vechi Hermit
Leaving the cottage, we climbed the ridge running down the centre of the meander.
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| On the path up to the central ridge above Butuceni |
On the top there is a small bell tower…
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| The bell tower (and cross on the right) and a view of the much higher surrounding bank |
and a cross.
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| Cross on the ridge above Butuceni |
Nearby a tunnel leads to a chapel hollowed out of the rock.
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| Hermit's chapel, Orheiul Vechi |
The resident hermit did not welcome us, nor did he seem to resent our presence, he largely ignored us and carried on with his routine. The small cell at the back of the chapel equipped with a blanket and pillow did not look particularly comfortable, but it was an improvement on the bare cells in the next chamber. No one lives there now, but occasionally they provided shelter to travellers trapped in the village by bad weather.
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| Hermit's cells, Orheiul Vechi |
N said that the man used to be an engineer and lived in Odessa with a wife and children. Always religious, he went on a retreat and discovered he had the vocation to be a hermit. How his family reacted to this news I can only guess. He duly found his way to Orheiul Vechi where he lives a simple life but claims not to be a proper hermit as he goes to the monastery for lunch every day.
A hole in the far side of the chapel led onto a ledge above the River Răut. There was, N said, an entrance here once, but it collapsed in an earthquake so it is now just a photo op.
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| On the ledge outside the hermit's chapel, Orheiul Vchi |
Back inside we distracted the hermit long enough to buy a candle. Lynne likes to light a candle in these circumstances, whether those in her prayers benefit from the process is a moot point, but it can do no harm.
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| Lynne lights a candle, hermit's chapel, Orheiul Vechi |
Orheiul Vechi Monastery
Leaving the hermit to his own company, we followed N towards the monastery further up the ridge.
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| Following N towards Orheiul Vechi Monastery |
I am not sure how old the monastery is but the buildings are modern. There are only half a dozen monks, young men who were chatting and working outside.
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| Orheiul Vechi Monastery |
Inside the brightly painted church, signs assured us that Christ had risen, but that we must not cross the barrier – my Romanian must be improving.
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| Orheiul Vechi Monastery Church |
Piles of printed sheets were available for visitors to take away, each one detailing a sin worthy of exclusion from paradise - pornography, swearing, pride, crossing barriers and more. They were only in Romanian (and my Romanian has not really improved that much) so we contented ourselves with a graphic depiction of the Judgement, Heaven and Hell.
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| Judgement, heaven and hell, Orheiul Vechi Style |
Lunch in the 'Butuceni Eco-Resort'
Returning to the village, we walked to the rather grandly title Butuceni Eco-Resort. Full of restaurant and B&B signs, the village is geared up for the tourist hordes, but on this sunny Tuesday morning there had been no one but us.
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| The main street of Butuceni and the entrance to the 'eco-resort' |
The ‘Eco-Resort’ was a couple of freshly painted village houses.
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| Butuceni Eco-Resort |
We sat in the courtyard and lunched on coffee and apple tart (tartă de mere) – or was it apple cake (prăjitură cu mere). The apple is a humble and generally unexciting fruit, but sometimes, in a well- made French apple tart (tarte aux pommes), Portuguese apple cake (bolo de maçã) or Dorset apple cake it reaches unexpected heights. I will happily add this Moldovan tart (or cake) to my list of apple delights.
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| Lynne and a Moldvan apple cake (or tart), Butuceni Eco-Resort |
All around was a frenzy of activity. In the kitchen to our left a woman was filling an army of pickling jars from steaming vats of vegetables, while her companions prepared the next batch. To our right house martins flew to and from a row of nests beneath the eves, beaks full of insects. Only we were idle.
With our apple cake reduced to a few crumbs and a small bill settled, we rejoined N and Leonid and reluctantly left the bucolic delights of Butuceni.
Cricova Winery
Cricova is half way back to Chişinău. Like most Moldovan towns, it seems largely invisible, but the vineyards were easy to find, as was the large car park and ticket office at the entrance to the tunnels.
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| The Cricova vineyards |
The winery was on the other side of the elusive town, but we were at the quarry – or rather, mine – which provided the limestone to build Chişinău. The workings left 120km of tunnels below ground, with a steady temperature of 12° - perfect for wine storage. The winery acquired the tunnels in the 1950s and now uses about half for storage and a ‘wine emporium’.
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| Bottle store, Cricova tunnels |
Some of the bottles here are special because of their provenance….
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| 1936 Pommard, Cricova |
….others because of their owners. Below is Vladimir Putin’s wine – he celebrated his 50th birthday here in 2002 – and for balance there are also the collections of Angela Merkel and former US Secretary of State John Kerry.
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| Vladimir Putin's wine collection, Cricova |
Yuri Gagarin visited in 1966 and, according to legend, was in the cellars for two days before being assisted out. His letter of thanks (or apology?) is on display.
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| Yuri Gagarin and his 'thank you' letter, Cricova |
Cricova Tasting
Eventually we were shown into a room for our own tasting.
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| Lynne waiting for the tasting, Cricova |
The were four wines:
Cricova Chardonnay was a strangely fruity wine considering it had spent (wasted?) 6 months in oak barrels. More an attempt at a new world style than traditional Burgundy it was let down by its lack of acidity.
Cricova Rosé, a 50/50 blend of Cabernet Sauvignon and Merlot was darkish in colour but very light on the palate. Dry enough, but it was another wine which needed acidity to provide focus.
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| Three of the wines at the Cricova tasting |
Codru Roşu (Red) Codru is the name of the local wine district. Also a Cabernet Sauvignon/Merlot blend, but this one 70/30, it was a run of the mill cheap Cabernet. I would be happy to drink a bottle of this any day, as long as I had not paid too much for it.
Muscat Sparkling Wine is made by the Charmat method (where secondary fermentation takes place in a tank rather than the bottle) used for Prosecco and Asti Spumante. I do not like Muscat at the best of times, but when it is this sweet I would pay not to drink it.
The wines we tasted yesterday at Purcari were individuals with carefully nurtured personalities, wines I would go out of my way to buy for a special occasion. Cricova, however, produces good solid commercial wines, like thousand of others on our supermarket shelves, pleasant and cheap enough to open without thought. They are rarely seen in the UK; although production costs are low in Moldova, after adding fixed costs they would be little cheaper than so many similar wines from closer to hand.
Back to Chişinău
It was a short drive back into Chişinău. ‘The older apartment blocks are limestone,’ N observed, thinking of the Cricova tunnels. ‘They are cooler in summer and warmer in winter than the newer concrete apartments.’ N lives in the northern suburb, so Leonid dropped her off as we passed.
In Soviet days all apartments were rented from the state. When Moldova became independent, tenants could buy their apartments for $100 and proof of residence. Home ownership rates are thus extraordinarily high. N’s grandmother had bought her apartment, and when she died N became the outright owner of a limestone apartment.
Leonid stopped to show us the State Circus building.
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| State Circus building, Chisinau |
It looks modern, innovative and impressive from a distance, but closer to the cracks were showing.
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| Close up of the State Circus building, Chisinau |
It is a metaphor for Moldova. The country’s population is officially 3.3 million, but N suggested there were really only 2 million, the rest were ‘elsewhere’. Her figures may have been plucked from the air, but any Moldovan of Romanian heritage – the vast majority – can legally obtain a Romanian passport, giving access to the whole EU. Even N, with a well-paid job (her description) and her own home said that when her Australian boyfriend goes home, she expects to go with him.
Diner at Plăcintă, Chişinău
We dined at Plăcintă, where we ate lunch on Sunday. Stewed chicken with mamaliga, Moldova’s universal polenta-like dish, suited me fine, the chicken was well cooked and the salty grated cheese perked up the mamaliga. Lynne was happy with her chicken sausage and we enjoyed a bottle of Chateau Vartely Cabernet Sauvignon. The price/quality ratio in Moldova is outstanding. Vartely - Cricova standard or maybe a little classier - is available in the UK from Laithwaites and The Sunday Times Wine Club – but a bottle costs almost twice the Chişinău restaurant price.
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| Dinner at Placinta, Chisinau |
Later we strolled up to the Arcul de Triumf where people were launching Chinese lanterns. It may have been connected with Sunday’s demonstrations about the mayoral elections, or, there again….
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| Chinese lanterns at the Arcul de Triomf, Chisinau |
Moldova (and Transnistria) Posts
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