Soroca

We went on a mini-vacation to a small city in the north of Moldova. Soroca lies across the Dniester river from Ukraine. We journeyed with friends and stood out as foreigners before we even opened our mouths. Maybe it is the baby carrier I wear Alexander in that seemed especially out of place. At any rate, as soon as we spoke, it became obvious that we were not from around these parts. We stayed in the Nistru Hotel, which is not a marvel of modern convenience but clean enough. It was only $30 for a sitting room, kitchenette, bathroom (shower only) and large bedroom with fuzzy local channels – a great price.

For lunch, we stepped into a restaurant that was smoky even by Moldovan standards. We were asked where we are from and I told the owner that we are American. She nodded and took two menus and waved for us to follow her around the corner, past the back room and through a skinny door into a tiny room just large enough for a table and five chairs. We speculated as to the original purpose of the tiny room (janitor’s closet?) and whether we were there to save us from the smoke or to save the other patrons from our conversation. Americans are typically thought to be rather boisterous, and I tend to agree with this stereotype. In the States, being loud in public is not annoying or rude as it is in much of the rest of the world. As a traveler, I do my best to be conscious of my noise levels.

The cafe/bar menu was not representative of traditional cuisine so we ordered a pizza (hold the mayo) and fries. Another stereotype about Americans is that we like ketchup. We did order ketchup with our fries. Our waitress was almost laughing as she served us two cereal bowls full of ketchup. We laughed when we were left alone with our bowls of ketchup for a few minutes before the order arrived. I am a bit embarrassed to report that we and our friends did make some major dents in the gratuitous pools of ketchup.  In part, I do not like to waste food and the house-made fries were fantastic so we ordered more… you know, to go with the ketchup. We were also given a few more drinks than we actually ordered.

Our next stop was the History and Ethnography Museum. The museum is closed in the winter months but the people we asked in the office next door happened to be the curators and offered to let us in if we did not mind the cold.  They found the key and we all went over to venture inside, although the key was not working. It was the right key but would not open the door. We undoubtedly looked suspicious huddled in front of the museum so the police stopped and asked for an explanation.

Once inside we were encouraged us to touch things in the museum. This goes against everything we have ever experienced in museums so we were reluctant. The curator hoisted Chloe up onto a stuffed wild boar (?), and insisted she touch the owl, old key, wicker furniture, rugs, and indigenous antique tools. We will have to reteach her how to be an observant museum patron and not climb the displays.

Gate key with a working lock mechanism.

We were asked if there are museums in the United States. Our friend replied with a simple “Smithsonian.” There was a nod of recognition.

At the end of the tour they lined up an English speaking tour guide for the next day. The museum entrance fee is 3 lei (20 U.S. cents) per person but they would not accept the fee or our donation attempts. We later took them a coffee and tea assortment with biscuits and cookies. As our friend Bailey put it, “They can refuse money but no one can turn down a gift of food.” Good point.

After a bit more exploring, we had a great dinner in the restaurant at the hotel. Our friend ordered “a glass of wine” (un pahar de vin). Taken as a literal translation, she was served a tall pint glass full of wine. Apparently we need to brush up on our language skills. The meals were served on tiny little plates like tea cup saucers with garnishes of pickled watermelon and spicy beet strings. Everything was fantastic and inexpensive. It was less than twenty dollars for all five meals and multiple drinks, plus we received extra food items that we had not even ordered.

The following morning we had omelettes and potatoes, and once again, we received more food and drink than we ordered. I am noticing a trend here. I wonder if this is a local hospitality management technique to increase the tourist’s bill.

After checking out of our rooms, we walked to the Soroca castle/fortress. Our guide was Nicolae Bulat. He is very personable, knowledgeable, funny and speaks absolutely perfect English. In fact, he probably speaks better than many native speakers as he was an English professor in the U.S. for many years. The tour was not just about the stone and mortar, as he explained the social, economic and political climate from when the castle was built. It was a fantastic experience, well worth the trip.

A view over the Dniester river to the snowy shore of Ukraine.

Icy rain made everything slippery but we were resilient and made it to the top of the tower.

On our walk back to the mini-bus station, we noticed a miniature building with a title sign almost as big as the building saying “hamburgers” in English. If you are in the States right now, a hamburger may not seem like a big deal, but here, hamburgers are not typically on the menu in any restaurant. For members of our party, a hamburger stand is like an oasis in the dessert. We walked inside salivating as we ordered our much anticipated hamburgers. It turned out to be a mirage, because the woman said “no hamburgers, only hot dogs and chicken'”. “When do you have hamburgers?” we asked.

“Never,” she said. “We have hot dogs and chicken.”  She might want to change the name of her stand.

We pressed on until we came to a little ‘Gogosi Dulci’ shop. Doughnuts! Each order is a plate of ten, accompanied by a chorus of angels, and topped with powdered sugar. We ordered more and subsequently overindulged. I would love to say “When in Rome…” but I don’t think Moldovans eat Gogosi in lieu of lunch.

Our friends are from New Orleans and said the Gogosi tasted like beignets. Highly recommended.

It is an odd sense to be in a foreign country, at a loss for language, yet still feel comfortable. It was not the scenery or the service that put us at ease. It is the warm generosity of the people we interacted with that created a sense of familiarity. People on the street do not smile at you. Smiles are not freely given – they are earned – and when the ice is broken and we have a chance to interact with the Moldovan people, we are made to feel like family.

On the way home we and two other couples took a man up on his offer to drive us back to Chisinau. He had a comfortable van with a dining room chair in between the two front seats so he could accept more fares. There was slush and fog but that did not slow him down. He drove on the opposite side of the road unless we were right in front of oncoming traffic. Seatbelts are not really used here in Moldova (most backseats don’t even have them) and I am surprised by the low percentage of traffic fatalities considering this and the driving style. I think I’ll stick with the mini-bus even though we made better time in the van on the way back.

When we walked in the door of our apartment it felt more like home than ever before. The familiarity of being back in our own space combined with being grateful for surviving the return trip makes us excited for tomorrow’s next adventure in Chisinau, Moldova.