|
|
They told us of their attempts to visit Cricova, the famous Moldovan wine cellar. Apparently, large numbers of foreign dignitaries were visiting this week, and it was not possible for any mere human to visit – not even ones from Australia . Luckily, John's wife's aunt knew someone who worked at Cricova, and so she had arranged for us to visit the very next day. We invited the Australians along too. At first they couldn't believe that we could actually fulfill this promise – they had tried VERY hard to there and failed. They were so doubtful that we actually started to doubt ourselves if we'd get in as well. After all, when you're told ‘no way', in Australia at least, it means ‘no way'. In the evening while walking along the main road, the women got trapped in a souvenir shop for hours again. Me and Kenny, having seen the power of these shops to trap tourists before, ran across the road to McDonalds which also happened to be the closest bar. Buying beer in McDonalds was very novel, and we had an excellent seat outside. I was again boasting of my Russian language skills, and how I could now manage to order beer without Dorina's help. Although Kenny also managed to go inside and return with beer without any problems at all. Learning Russian really now seemed like a bit of a waste of time. All it had managed to do for me so far was to let me into pieces of conversations between average Moldovans which told me just how displeased they were with life. Overall, I really think that I had a better time in Moldova when I had absolutely no clue what has happening. Indeed, the only use my Russian language skills were at McDonalds was when I went inside to order yet more beer, and the guy at the counter sold me a bloody CD. That's what you get for learning a language. It's a good CD – Romanian songs with pictures of smiling (strangely American looking) people on the front cover. I made sure that they weren't Americans before I brought it, and it only cost $1.50. Really, I like McDonalds, but helping to erode interesting foreign cultures with their own crappy American ideas is not something I support, no matter how innocently or well intentioned. It just makes the world more boring, and there's really no need for it. The Australians that we had met earlier walked past and said they'd never be caught dead in a McDonalds in a foreign country the cultural treasures of which they had come to explore. Fair enough, and ordinarily I'd agree with them, but these were extenuating circumstances. We had to escape being stuck in a tourist shop – and this was the closest bar – and beer! In McDonalds! It certainly had to be tried out. Plus, it was in a good location, right on the main street in Moldova 's largest city. It had to be done at least once.
One of Dorina's friends came. She was very nice. I don't remember much else because by this time I was a bit drunk.
Later we all decided to go to Pizza Pazza, my favorite pizza restaurant in Moldova . Unfortunately this was the only time we went to it, and I was too drunk to remember much about it. I think I got my favorite pizza – pineapple with an egg in the middle. Yum. Somewhere during this pizza experience I decided to go and call John. We had to make plans for visiting Cricova the next day anyway, and also the usual thing to do when drunk is to call people, so I thought, why not? I had not been able to find a phone card for the public telephones despite two days of searching, so I had no way to call. Everyone pointed this out to me, but I was determined to try. My family was a bit worried about me, so decided to send my sister with me for some reason. Fair enough. I stumbled out into the night, and found some drunk guys sitting at a table and somehow one of them agreed to let me use his calling card. So, I did, made my call (Natasha answered and they were both tired, so I didn't even get to talk to John), but I had made the call, and that was the main thing. Then I decided to buy my sister a phone card to call New Zealand with, and I succeeded, even though it cost me a good $20 (Moldovan money seems so insignificant when sober, let alone drunk). Triumphant, I said something loudly which the drunken guys at the table and one policeman standing on the street agreed with whole heartedly, and I stumbled back to Pizza Pazza with my sister. Later we left, and some youth accosted us for money in an insistent manner. I yelled at him in Russian and he was suitably scared. Success! I could now intimidate small homeless children in a foreign language. A very useful skill. We then agreed to walk Dorina's friend home. That was very good - a nice walk in the warm Moldovan night. Dorina had previously had the habit of making us all get onto public transport of various kinds for exceedingly short distances which confused us immensely, but apparently she was worried about us walking or something. I really have no idea what she was thinking. Her poor brain must have been very scrambled with random worries about our well-being, trying to keep us happy despite our tendency to speak out loudly (which can be misconstrued as complaining to the Moldovan mind, and then of course they try to make things right for you, which may involve changing plans mid-course which further confuses you). So tonight we walked, and walked, and walked some more. We walked a very long way. In fact, it was so far that I think Dorina was deliberately making us walk to teach us some kind of lesson – a lesson to something that we had no idea about - because no one ever tells us anything, and when they do it's usually in some random foreign language. I didn't mind, but Kenny did. In the end, I understood his complaining as a call for action, so put them into a taxi and sent them off. Dorina had always been telling us the dangers of Moldovan taxis for foreigners, but tonight was not very concerned, and off my family went into the night, never to be seen again. Well, not until the next day at least.
During the walk, I was trying to explain the concept of nothingness to my sister. Not Buddhist emptiness, which is completely different, but if, as atheists believe, when you die, nothing happens at all, and you're completely gone. I explained that if the atheist's were right, then you have absolutely nothing to worry about when you die, because nothing happens, so it's therefore not possible to worry or have any other kind of conscious thought. She completely didn't get it. It wasn't like I was saying that this is what happens after death – indeed, I'm of the opposite opinion, but just explaining it as a concept, she couldn't grasp it at all. In the end I told her that some people just couldn't grasp certain concepts because there minds were too small, and that they'd have to wait until they grew. Hmmm. Am I a bit egotistical? Yes, it certainly seems so. But on the other hand, come on, it's not that hard of a concept to grasp, is it? Dorina's friend, Marcella, had an average Moldovan apartment. One bedroom, by our standards. It costs $100 a month to rent, and she makes $200 a month, both of which are average for Chisinau. Actually, rent was approx $70 a month two years ago, so I suppose that's gone up. Marcella has an 11 year old daughter, who was watching soccer on TV. Her daughter assured me that she liked it when the players bent over, which is, I think, the main reason why women watch men's sports. The next day (Thursday) we woke early to go to Cricova. The Australians showed up, excited that we were able to pull the trip off, but sadly, Nikoli and his family, who we also invited, were not able to come. Apparently there was an accident in the family involving a relative and a horse, and Nikoli's assistance was needed. Buggar. Marcella had arranged a van for us, and it showed up on time. Off we went to Cricova, which is a small town just on the edge of Chisinau. We passed a new super-store, like Wal-mart I'm told. It's far away from town, so of course you need a car to visit it, and although I wanted to visit, we never got the chance. Maybe next time. I'm not very keen on the idea of making people buy cars in order to go shopping, but hopefully there will be enough buses and such to make it easy for most car-less Moldovans to get there. It just seems a bit stupid though. Make a super-store, with all kinds of products with low prices, which is a good idea, but the only place you can build it is far away, which means people then have to own a car, with its associated expenses, in order to conveniently get to it in order to save money . . . It's like, western economies are only so huge because we've made daily life so much more complicated that we need all kinds of stuff in order to purchase things for low prices, which then themselves eventually go up in price because of the increasing order of magnitude of complexity. Then again, I'm not one to live in a simple village, but seeing this change in a society beginning to happen first hand is worrying, especially as since living in America with all it's riches has shown me just how busy people can get, and how boring they end up, and in my opinion, it's a huge waste of a precious life, of which more time could be spent with friends having a good time. Just think – in a few more years, there might not be any Moldovans left who will drop by your house unexpectedly, or always be available for a lengthy chat on the telephone, or be willing and free to go out with you for a walk in the park or to get trashed at the local bar, because they're tired from working all day, trying to pay for their new car which they had to buy because the grocery store is now too far away and the public transport was cut and no longer goes out there. Anyway. At Cricova, we were indeed allowed on the tour. We were to do the short tour – shown around the place a bit and then leave, because of the foreign dignitaries who were to show up later. The full-tour apparently involves wine tastings and such. A family of Americans had shown up. They had hosted a Moldovan student, and now that Moldovan student was marrying their son, so they had come to Moldova for the wedding. I felt a bit sad at this fact, but only because I'm biased. I'm sure they are really nice people. Actually, I get bitter about peoples no matter where I am, so it's really nothing personal. Leave me in Moldova long enough and I will find things to dislike, as in fact this trip was to show me. Cricova was very interesting. It's a huge series of underground tunnels, and was very famous in the Soviet Union . It was very cold in the tunnels, which was a welcome relief from the heat of Moldova in August. All kinds of wine are stored in the tunnels, and we saw only a few of them. They have many different rooms too – tasting rooms – all decorated differently, with huge long tables and many different chairs. The different scenery of the rooms is meant for different types of wines. We also saw the sea-shells embedded into the rock – more evidence of Moldova 's underwater past.
After a tour of about an hour, we left and wondered into the main part of the town to wait for a bus back to Chisinau. It showed up after about 20 minutes, and we had a nice cramped ride back, and then went to the wonderful ‘Mon Café' on the main street. A bit of a rest after that, and we'd agreed to meet John and Natasha at a beer place later on. Later on came, and off we went. The place was pretty nice. A bit too American though for my tastes – it was all inside, no windows, and the tables were set as such that it made it difficult to talk with the others down the end of the table. A bit expensive, too – American prices! But the beer was pretty good, and food, what I remember of it, was also. The Australians showed up too. After that we went to another bar, in the top level of a mall. It was another ‘American-type' bar. John had found it. My sister was not in the mood to visit American-type bars in Moldova , and was also a bit tired, so went off home. Although it was pretty cool – a bar in a mall! Again, no windows though. The Australians in Australian fashion pounded back some drinks. I had not so much, having become weakened and pussy-fied by living in the US for too long. Some Moldovans in the next booth became annoyed with our loud foreign happy sounds, and complained. We complained back, but to no avail. Generally while in a foreign country I like to abide by the local customs, but no one else was having any of it. The Australians in particular were against this idea, and although I disagreed with them, I suppose they have traveled a great deal more than me, and so probably know a bit more about what is appropriate and inappropriate in foreign settings. I just don't really know. Also generally though, I think it's good not to annoy people because they might kill us. I like to pretend that this is another habit I picked up in the US , what with everyone running around with guns and loving doing so, but in fact I am really just a bit of a coward. What can I say? I like remaining un-bruised and un-shot, and a great number of our fellow men seem to like behaving erratically at times. We then pissed off to yet another bar, close to where John was staying. This was more my style, out doors but covered with a roof. There were many Russian-speakers here, and the beer was acceptable. Somewhere along the line we got onto the discussion of politics, and here liberal John took an ear-bashing from the Australians. Yes, liberal Americans are almost Nazi-like compared to Australians (and I believe, most of the rest of the world). Poor John sat there apologizing for a good 20 minutes or so. I asked if women would be better at running the world, or if it would just become a big shoe store. This comment didn't sit well with Michelle of the Australian couple, and I took a bit of an ear-bashing myself. It took a bit of explaining that I seriously meant nothing bad (I'm so equal rights that I don't even consider the issue an issue), but some of the male persuasion are a bit more chauvinistic, and the females are rightly sensitive about it. Fair enough. Michelle was of the opinion that women wouldn't run the world any better, but I do disagree (Chris was talking so much at this point that I never got to express my opinion, but seriously – most criminals are men, most men are in power, and look at all the wars! Surely women, without rouge male hormones raging through them and thousands of years of battling wild animals and being ‘tough' would do a better job of running the world? I for one would be happy to let them have a go.) I had to finish my beer rather abruptly as we had all decided to leave, and the sudden influx of delicious gases didn't sit well with me, and a billboard by the side of the road met some stomach contents. That always happens that way. Me and the Australians stumbled off back towards our various accommodations after saying goodnight to John and Natasha, and that was the night! I must say, I enjoyed seeing typical Australian behavior again, both the good and the bad of it. It reminds me of all the things I like, and don't like, about Australia . It's all very interesting. It's also why I live in the USA – experiencing a different culture over many years never ceases to amaze me – for all the good and bad things that occur. The next day – we're up to Friday now. We went to Orheiul Vechi . We had procured the services of a tour van, which promised air conditioning and a comfortable ride. Well, there was no air conditioning, but the ride was more comfortable than the other vans we had traveled in, but with Moldovan roads, nothing can be completely comfortable short of a hovercraft. When we got close to Orheiul Vechi we stopped on the side of the road, with a view of the caves in the distance. You could clearly see the cliff and the cave entrances. There was seemingly nothing else around. Or so we thought – we walked to the other side of the road, and down below a large drop was an entire village. It was amazing. On top of the road, you'd never know it was there. But going to the edge, and looking down, you got a view of a large village along with all of the sounds. Quite a remarkable experience. We went to the Orheiul Vechi tourist center (lovingly funded by Americans), and ordered our lunch (which we had later). Off to the cave monasteries, and there's an Orthodox church there too, with the sticky out bit on top, and a funny monk in there, who appears to be an actual monk dude. We saw the caves – well, they are caves – made of rock. There isn't anything else there. This is where monks lived and prayed most of the day, trying to get in touch with God (this was before Pat Robertson was available to tell you about him on television). There were souvenirs there, and the church part was all very elaborate. I don't know much about the Orthodox church, but with all of the saints, all of the practices and such, it seemed rather similar to Tibetan Buddhism. Very interesting. In fact, all of this elaborateness was one of the things that some American missionaries were telling me was so wrong with their religion – too much crazy stuff going on, too complicated – too – shallow? Whatever, dudes. I sort of doubt that they'd actually been into an Orthodox church before. Below the caves was a sort of tourist village, featuring typical Moldovan houses and such. Actually, there was a real village there too, so I wonder what they thought about tourists tramping through their village all of the time? Who knows. One thing they could learn from the Americans is to set up some kind of souvenir stand – actually, cancel that because they'd set up something tacky and sell crappy merchandise in order to maximize profits and please shareholders – better to set up a bar instead. Hooray! My sister thought that it was ‘really cool man' that people were driving around in horse drawn carts. This is also what I thought on my first visit to Moldova too. I had since learned better. These people looked pissed off. And indeed – I'm sure if any one of us had to scoot around on a horse drawn cart instead of driving in a comfortable van, we'd be pissed off too. And when the horses fart? Bloody hell. But oh well, my sister has hippy tendencies of which she hasn't been ridded of yet. She's even looking after trees in New Zealand ! As long as she doesn't start a drum-circle I suppose. And to be fair, horse drawn carts are probably cheaper to own than cars, so getting to Walmart might be a possibility after all.
After this, we discovered that our very nice tour guide was empowered to drive us to other places which we didn't initially book. Fine with us. He drove us quite far away, on these dodgy roads, way out to the eastern part of Moldova . We saw another church, in a very poor area of Moldova . It had some magical sin-washing-away pool, where we watched people dunking themselves in this to wash away their sins. The church was very cool, and I think there were monks living there too, or something. The toilet was not very pretty. My mum had fear of this toilet, due to the flies. I was quite happy when we left, but only because I wasn't feeling very well (the previous night I had been a bit drunk, so that's why). With better health, I would have enjoyed it all even more, not to say that I didn't enjoy it pretty much regardless. (Page 3/4)
|
Home/Дом | Trips! | Links | Moldova & Bananas | Relationships | Contact