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Voronet Monastery

Blog entries, Locations

the monastic church of Voronet, dominantly blue-coloured

Voronet Monastery, painted in Voronet-blue, contains one of the most famous external frescoes of all Bucovina Monasteries, and there is a look inside, too

fresco showing that IS isn’t that original, after all: Ottoman Turks killing a Christian

The Voronet Monastery is one of the older ones, built in 1488 at the initiative of Stefan the Great, as a token of gratitude for Daniil the Hermit, who “advised (Stefan) in a time of distress” – likely to refer to yet another battle with the Ottoman Turks. The building has a tower, and several external additions dating from 1547.

The key fresco here is the Last Judgment, covering an entire wall, and still in excellent condition. There is no doubt that blue is the dominant colour in this church.

impressive Last Judgement fresco on the side of Voronet monastry church

detail of the Last Judgment (1)

detail of the Last Judgment (2) – the left corner, procession with a cross

detail of the Last Judgment (3)

detail of the Last Judgment (4)

frescoes inside the church

and all the way in the cupola

the iconostasis separating the nave from the sanctuary

looking back through the church, with various individual chambers

Sneakily, I managed to take some pictures inside, too, just to be able to share the fabulous quality of the inside decorations of these churches, too.

The other monasteries included here are Humor, Moldovita and Sucevita. See also ‘the painted monasteries of Bucovina‘.

frescoes on the outside of the sanctuary

detail of frescoes with beards

fresco of the burial of a king

Humor Monastery

Blog entries, Locations

defense tower on the wall surrounding Humor Monastery

The church of the Humor Monastery in Bucovina, with its fabulous outside frescoes

The Humor church dates from 1530 and was built by one of the noblemen of Petru Raresh, son of Stefan the Great. There is no church tower, but this is compensated by the presence of a defense tower, constructed some 100 years later, when the monasteries were fortified to withstand Ottoman attacks.

the outside wall showing the Hymn of Our Lady

The most important outside fresco is that of the Hymn to Our Lady, a kind of a cartoon but then a serious one – you know what I mean. I haven’t counted them, but there are supposed to be 24 scenes. Whilst we were around, the sun came out, giving a totally different flavor to the frescos than if overcast. With the bright sunshine, I can actually recognized the predominantly red colours – which turn to blue as soon as the sun is gone again.

the centre piece of the Hymn to Our Lady, in the sun

same thing, in the shade – which changes the colours significantly

The other monasteries visited are Voronet Monastery, Moldovita Monastery and Sucevita Monastery. See also ‘the painted monasteries of Bucovina‘.

the church of Humor Monastery

frescoes on the outside of the sanctuary

detail

further frescoes outside

33. the painted monasteries of Bucovina

Blog entries

Humor church, the painted church of Humor monastery in Bucovina

The brilliantly painted monasteries of Bucovina, in Northern Romania, have been remarkably well-preserved, despite a long history.

monastic buildings and tower of the fortified Sucevita monastery

One of the most striking tourist attractions in Romania are the Bucovina Monasteries, built and painted in the 15^th and 16^th Century under the patronage of Stefan the Great, the Romanian prince not only revered in Bucovina, but throughout Moldavia province and the rest of Romania, as well as the Republic of Moldova. In fact, we are talking about relatively small orthodox churches, inside a compound wall that forms the fortification around the monastery. The churches are spectacularly decorated with frescos, not only inside, but also – and unusually so – outside. The most quoted reason for the outside paintings is that the churches wanted to educate the illiterate populace, and crowds were far bigger than what fitted inside the church – which leaves the question why this method was not developed elsewhere, of course. (The only other example I know of is the monasteries around Lake Tana in Ethiopia.)

Humor outside frescos, the sun makes a difference

fresco above the door of Humor church

impressive Last Judgement fresco on the side of Voronet monastry church

detail of the Last Judgement fresco, a crowd of icons, all-important people

detail of frescos on the porch of the Humor church

Whatever the reason, the churches were painted on the outside, which was a rather tricky business. Teams of painters applied a fine plaster, and then had only a few hours to paint the plaster with pigments based on clays, minerals and semi-precious stones; once the plaster dried, it reacted with the pigments, creating the long-lasting decorations still clearly visible today. Each of the main monasteries claim to have a different colour – although, in all honesty, that wasn’t blatantly obvious to me -, the three most famous ones (Humor, Voronet and Moldovita) sporting red, blue and yellow, respectively, which, miraculously, also come back in the Romanian flag. Suggesting that this is a coincidence, is not done.

We were a little concerned that we would experience an overkill of monasteries, taking a full day to travel to many of them, but the opposite is true. Each monastery is different, a distinct architecture, a unique interior, and its own external frescos, although obviously there is some overlap in the subject matter, like Bible scenes and Ottoman battles. The north-facing walls have suffered the prevailing winds and rain and snow, but the other sides are still in remarkably good condition. Even the 19^th Century graffiti is still very readable – what is it that makes people write their names across someone else’s images?

19th Century graffiti in Moldovita

even 18th Century graffiti

Moldovita monstarey church, with dominating yellow colours

inside the Voronet monastery church

Even better are the inside frescos – but unfortunately inside photography is forbidden, which left me with the occasional sneaky shot only. Orthodox churches are decorated from top to bottom, so walls and ceiling, all the way into the domes, have been painted. In addition, intricate iconostases have been installed between nave and sanctuary, with multiple icons and paintings inside wooden frames.

The individual monasteries have been described in travel guides and on websites, so there is little I can add, save a few pictures, here and in individual entries of some of the monasteries (to allow for even more photos), which do not even start to do justice to the experience of visiting these remarkable monasteries for real.

my favourite: Siege of Constantinople (Moldovita)

detail of cannons in Siege of Constantinople (Moldovita)

detail of horsemen in Siege of Constantinople (Moldovita)

the tower of the Solca monastery

church windows in the back, waiting to be restored (Solca)

We went to see the small Humor monastery, the equally small Voronet Monastery – which indeed is overwhelmingly blue -, the Moldevita Monastery – with my favourite fresco, the the siege of Constantinople -, and the much larger Sucevita Monastery, as well as the less impressive Solca Monastery and Tower, all UNESCO World Heritage sites. Follow the links to the monasteries for more photos.

Next: next to Bucovina is Maramures

Sucevita Monastery

Moldovita Monastery

Voronet Monastery

Humor Monastery

church in the village of Cipriam, just outside Suceava

32. to Bucovina

Blog entries

satellite dishes are indispensable

metal-roofed house for sale outside Suceava, Bucovina

Even after three weeks Romania we still encounter new forms of housing, including those with metal roofs and with car windows, on our way to Suceava, capital of Bucovina

We are on our way back home, but before we set our minds to long distance driving, we have two unique areas to visit still, Bucovina with its painted monasteries, and Maramures with its wooden churches.

house with decorated metal roof

even a small roof window has been decorated

and what about the drainage pipes?

even water wells have a metal roof cover

In the villages around Iasi we notice quite a few houses that have been built with sheet metal roofs.

Apparently, this was in response to lack of affordable building materials in communist times, yet, people have made considerable effort to not just cover the roof, but decorate it, too – at a cost, obviously. Drainpipes and roof windows have been intricately worked, in a way that suggests longterm skills development, rather than applying a cheap solution. Quite attractive, these houses! And likely a longer lasting solution that the wooden shingles we noticed on rooftops of other houses in this area, for instance.

another house, with lots of wood

a window

In the towns, more palatis. But strikingly – you know my obsession with these buildings, and with the various ways people have closed their balconies to create an additional room – strikingly, closing of the balconies is here rather universal, as if a factory for car windows had gone bust and gave away its remaining stock. Really, rather strange windows for an apartment.

palatis with car-window closures

now, are these car windows or are these car windows?

frescos in a Suceava church

the couple is also decorated, and gets a little more light

the Suceava citadel

The influence of the car window factory continues all the way to Suceava, the main town of Bucovina. Bucovina is another one of those Romanian territories that has changes hands many times. Initially firmly part of the Moldavian Principality, which at that time – we are talking Middle Ages, here – had Suceva even as its capital, it was conquered by the Russians in one of their many wars with Ottoman Turkey, and then transferred to Austria in 1775 as a ‘thank you’ for their assistance during the war. In those days you could just do that, transfer a piece of territory. Austria being on the wrong side in WW I, Bucovina was returned to Romania, only to be split in a Northern and a Southern part at the start of WW II, the north being claimed by the Soviet Union, and despite short-lived Romanian war efforts to reclaim the north, after the war the status quo was maintained, and Bucovina was permanently split. Interestingly, whilst there is the occasional rumblings in Romania for reunification with Bessarabia, present-day Republic of Moldova, nobody seems to care about Northern Bucovina, at all.

this is a general store, with wooden shingles as roof cover

Anyhow, Bucovina. Technically, Southern Bucovina, but in Romania it is just Bucovina.

Suceava is an allright place, not particularly attractive. A few old churches, frescoed inside, a citadel which is closed for renovation, and a small centre with excellent Italian restaurants. But mostly, Suceava forms the base for exploring Bucovina’s painted monasteries.

and then there are the wooden houses

another favourite product, for sale along the road

31. Bicaz & Ceahlau

Blog entries

narrow, winding roads in the Bicaz, no overtaking, yet traffic in the gorge is a free-for-all

Romanian natural beauty is well-represented in the Eastern Carpathians, but so is the local tourist industry

Even though we have some four weeks for Romania, we cannot expect to see everything in the entire country, it is simply too big, and there is too much to do. One place we don’t want to miss, however, is the Bicaz Gorge and the Ceahlau Massif, perhaps the most picturesque mountains of Romania.

The Ceahlau Massif is a fairly accessible mountain complex in the Eastern Carpathians, with a couple of well-marked tracks from the base, the village of Izvorul Muntelui, to the top at just over 1900 meters. Old and unfit as we are, we turn around after a couple of hours, without reaching the top, instead opting for the comfort of our simple, but pleasant cabana in Izvorul, with balcony view of the mountains – and home-distilled tuica to clarify the view. Izvorul lives from cabanas.

Ceahlau Massif, from the balcony of our cabana

another view of the Ceahlau Massif

and this is about as far as we got

the Bicaz Gorge

The next day we drive up to the Bicaz Gorge, indeed a very narrow crack in the mountains, flanked by steep walls, permanently in the shade. Wherever there is space to stop, entrepreneurs have set up their stalls with tourist trinkets – the gorge is obviously a very popular spot. This is confirmed a little further west, where we arrive at the Lacu Rosu, the Red Lake.

food stalls at the shores of Lagu Rosu

selling delicious Hungarian bread

There is really not a lot to it, this lake, not much more than a shallow pond, really, but the place has been thoroughly developed, hotels and restaurants, and a string of food stalls – most demand is for some type of Hungarian sweet-tasting bread, cooked on demand and really nice. The lake itself is full of rowing boats, rented out by the hour.

boating on Lagu Rosu

the Bicaz Lake, generating hydro-electricity behind a no-photos dam

no photograps as the Bicaz dam, despite the busloads of camera-touring tourists being offloaded here - difficult to enforce

no photograps at the Bicaz dam, despite the busloads of camera-touring tourists being offloaded here – difficult to enforce

At the other end of the gorge is Bicaz Lake, a quite sizable artificial lake behind a hydro-electric dam, perhaps far more suited for boat trips, yet almost abandoned. There is a bit of traffic on the lake, and plenty tourist infrastructure, but somehow people prefer the smaller pond.

Unfortunately, the day is not very bright, dark clouds have been accumulating for a while and rain starts falling, affecting not only the photos, but also our plans for a walk into a smaller valley, away from the many tourists. You cannot win them all.

Next: to Bucovina, yet another Romanian highlight

30. the Moldovian tourist attractions

Blog entries

the modern stained-glass windows of the Capriani Monastry church reflected on the floor

A quick visit along what is supposed to be the creme-de-la-creme of the Moldovan tourist attractions.

There aren’t any. Well, there are no tourist attractions to write home about, but I will attempt a few lights – cannot call them highlights. Not surprisingly, Moldova doesn’t have a tourist information service, and we didn’t have a guide book either, so information was internet-derived, only, Tripadvisor. Don’t believe it.

Moldovan landscape is lovely, rolling hills and the lot, but it is not very spectacular. And it is fairly monotonous – at least the part we saw, and I don’t expect huge variety elsewhere in this, after all pretty small, country.

Chisinau, I already discussed, doesn’t have a lot either, even though it is a pleasant enough town. So the real interest needs to come from the monasteries, of which Moldova has plenty.

the blue church in a rural village

one of the churches of the Curchi Monastery

and the other one, also Curchi complex

frescos inside the Capriani Monastic church, pretty bright, pretty new

bring on the water, Capriany Monastery

some of the frescos have been drawn, but not yet painted

To control the amount of driving somewhat, we had selected a few monasteries not too far away from Chisinau. Capriani Monastery was described as “one of the oldest monasteries founded in Bessarabia…. the last bastion of voivodal architecture in the Republic of Moldova, belonging to the Romanian cultural space”. Now, what else could you possibly want? Voivodal architecture or not, the monastery is heavily restored, and the churches in the complex newly decorated with fresh, bright-coloured frescos, some still to be completed. Not a lot of historical evidence, notwithstanding the obvious popularity of the place, attracting many visitors from afar on some kind of a pilgrimage – cars from Russia, Belarus, and even some busloads, albeit mini-busses. And the same counts for the Curchi Monastery, another lovely, landscaped complex that may, or may not, have a deep historical meaning, but not very visible. Again, everything well-maintained, newly painted – you know, not that interesting for the non-believing, casual tourist. Quite different from the Romanian and Bulgarian churches and monasteries we encountered earlier.

the church in Orhei Vechia

one of the barns near Orhei Vechia

which is quite an attractive construction in itself

This left us with the biggest tourist attraction, Orhei Vechia, claimed to be a UNESCO World Heritage Site – even though it doesn’t appear on the UNESCO list. Perhaps by now we were a little cynical, perhaps we didn’t find half of the attractions – we never got to underground monasteries, or medieval villages -, but this complex was also a rather disappointing affair, the restored monastery, merely a church (closed, of course) with a wall around it, and a clock tower some distance away, admittedly located in a beautiful setting on a ridge overlooking the river valley. No infrastructure to speak of, there are some sign boards explaining the history, but others, explaining the next part of the history, have disappeared. No office, only a gift shop, which is abandoned. To their credit, the Moldovans have signposted this national treasure, from the motorway all the way to the site – the only tourist attraction signposted in the entire country.

well, the setting of Orhei Vechia is spectacular

Is there then nothing worth our while, in Moldova? Wait, Moldova also has the second largest wine producer in the world, the Cricova Winery, which sports no less than 128 km of underground tunnels, where wine is produced, and, more importantly, stored; tunnels are hard to beat for constant temperature and high humidity. By the way, the largest wine producer, Milestii Mici, is also in Moldova, but is apparently less attractive, or has poorer marketing and public relations. Why Moldova produces so much wine? Favourable climate, and for a long time Russia as its main market, which took 80% of the annual production (until Russia decided to embargo Moldovan wine, and its market collapsed – although they claim that Poland has taken the place of Russia, it is difficult to imagine Poles drinking as much as Russians, individually as well as as a nation).

Right, Cricova, here we come! Well, not just yet, you first need to book your tour, for us the ten o’clock English-language tour. And pay upfront, in an office somewhere in Chisinau. Which we find, after having been directed from the Cricova head office, which was obviously the wrong office, to a bank opposite, which pointed to another office, across the street, which turned out to be next to the shop, where we were supposed to pay.

one of the haphazard tourists in our group, waiting for the train to depart

the tunnels in the limestone, part of the 128 km

Cricova is some 20 minutes drive from Chisinau, and is admittedly, the second tourist attraction that is well signposted, perhaps even better than Orhei Vechia the day before. We are the last ones to arrive, the rest of the ten o’clock tour is already on location, ready to board the open-carriage electric train – the type of train that is being used to transfer tourists at city events. What follows is absolutely amazing. The tour is utterly uninteresting, about how wine is being made, and who all has been here to admire the process, or store their personal collection of Cricova wine in the cellars. It actually took a while before we realized that we were, in fact, on the English-language tour. But the complex itself, cave after cave, linked by an intricate network tunnels, complete with road signs, right-of-way, pedestrian crossings and bicycle paths, some 80 meters below surface, the complex is quite something, even though we only see a tiny amount of it – in fact, only about 25-30% of the caves are used, at present. Funnily, the origin of the cave complex, obviously man-made, is never revealed, but I am pretty sure that it wasn’t dug for a winery. Mutterings about limestone building material aren’t that convincing.

barrels lined up along the tunnels

this is bottle storage for professionals

these have been there for a while

pink champagne, plenty of it

the tasting room in Cricova; note the ‘windows’, at 80 meters below surface

At the end of the hour-long tour there is the tasting session, like Romanian tasting you pay for a fixed number of wines, and no choice. The room, also 80 meters below surface, has windows, well, non-transparent glass behind which a few lamps have been placed, to create the impression of daylight outside. Really! The wines themselves? OK-ish, nothing spectacular, and again, like Romania and Bulgaria, contrary to expectation the better ones are not particularly cheap. We buy a few bottles; after all, we have by now quite a collection of personal imports.

After two days we have seen the place, and we return, back across the Prut River, into Romania. What a contrast, suddenly!

Next: back in Romania, the Bicaz Gorge and the Ceahlau Massif

the Prut River, border between Moldova the country and Moldavia the Romanian province

the Prut River, it is really called that way

29. into Moldova

Blog entries

a blue church window in rural Moldova

An empty country, with little outward indication of progress, although the capital Chisinau is a lively, relaxed place

Being so close, we couldn’t resist hopping across the border into the former Soviet republic of Moldova. The link with Romania comes from one of the Wallachian princes called Bessarab, who, in the 16^th Century, established the principality of Bessarabia, between the Dniester and Prut rivers. In the days of Stefan the Great Bessarabia was united with Moldavia (the Romanian province), but the territory has long since been annexed by the Russian, later the Soviet Union. The reunification with Romania proper at the start of WW II, which Romania managed with German help, was short-lived. When war fortunes turned, the Soviets occupied Bessarabia again, in 1943, and they didn’t see any reason to return this territory at the end of the war. And at the break-up of the Soviet Union Bessarabia went on as the independent country of Moldova (except a small sliver, what is now the Russian-supported break-away territory of Transdniestria – essentially the area along to the Dniester river, and quite possibly the next Eastern Ukraine).

rural Moldova

the country is, in fact, not entirely empty

So there we are, in a former Soviet republic. Can’t get away from the idea that they have missed the boat, where Romania and Bulgaria have just caught the last one. This is Europe, all right, and it looks like it, too, somewhat. But Moldova is at once different from its western neighbours, it is empty, it is much poorer than the poorest part of Romania, undecorated, not even flowers; lacking the colourful new constructions that Romanians have created all over the country; houses are basic, simple, undecorated, and generally smaller than next door. It is clear that Moldovans haven’t been to “Europe” yet, haven’t made the money their neighbours have. Roads are in worse condition – even though there seem to be fewer cars, to start with; fewer horse-drawn carts, too. Where Romania, even in the poorer areas, seems to show progression, Moldova stagnates. Even the palatis – newer than in Romania and Bulgaria, it looks like they are still being constructed as before – even the palatis are more uniform, less individual creativity exposed. And significantly fewer satellite dishes, too.

I need to reiterate this: the country, the size of The Netherlands, is empty, there are very few villages, even fewer towns, and everything in between is empty. No people, no houses, no traffic, no cattle, no nothing, although the land, most of it, seems to have been cultivated, pre-harvest. It is erie.

central Chisinau, and note the discipline, nobody gets onto the square in front of the parliament building

my favourite building in Chisinau, the football stadium, or perhaps that is obvious?

the fountain in the central Chisinau Park (the one with the sockets and free wifi)

the fountain in the central Chisinau Park (the one with sockets and wifi)

this gives the place away: what do you mean, ex-Soviet?

also here, ‘palatis’, and each balcony is different

cute balconies

Chisinau is the capital, and quite unlike the rest of the country. A firmly communist-era town, with several huge, 1960s-like structures housing parliament, the municipality and the National Opera, as well as several communist era hotels where the time seem to have stood still. And yet, Chisinau is a relaxed town, with a youthful atmosphere, lots of small business being developed, youngsters with tablets in the park – which has free wifi, as well as electricity sockets! Others drinking Mojitos on the terraces, or eating shushi. There is nothing specifically beautiful in Chisinau, or it must be the occasional tasteful balcony, or the tree-lined streets and avenues, and still, this is a place with its own character.

small business is booming: the back of the van is the coffee shop

Chisinau traffic: getting in line for the traffic lights

this is Chisinau’s main avenue, centre of town, close to rush hour

Next: Now see whether there is anything to do, here.

apple store, Moldova-style

28. an industrial heritage

Blog entries

this steam heating system in Iasi’s industrial complex still seems to work

By now you know about my obsession with decrepit factories and with ‘palatis’, in reality called ‘blocks’, here, but ‘palati’ is a much nicer word. A view of what is left of Iasi’s industrial complex, and why.

the place of a former factory, now gone to dust – literally

A tour of the old industrial complex of the city is an eye opener. I have already commented on the senseless destruction of capital, huge factory halls falling into disrepair, but here this has been taken to a different level, less visible perhaps, because entire factories have disappeared! Apparently, the privatization mechanism after the 1989 revolution was to sell a factory lock, stock and barrel, preferably to a foreigner with money – not necessarily an investor -, so as to draw less attention to the deal. The buyer would be interested in a quick buck only, and focused on selling the machinery as scrap iron, obviously huge business at the time – and still, presumably, because everywhere in Romania we encountered ‘fier vecchi’ signs pointing to yards full of metal waste. Further metal was to be had from the factory walls: gypsies got rich by spending their time meticulously taking apart the buildings, salvaging the iron bars from the reinforced concrete, and leaving nothing but a heap of dirt on the spot of the privatized factory. Which is why you don’t see those factories anymore. Even the manhole covers also made of metal, have all disappeared. Which makes driving here pretty hazardous!

another factory skeleton

and one still standing, just

and another one, which is unlikely to ever produce anything again

Not all the factories have been taken down, some of the complexes still sport buildings in various stages of collapse; broken windows, whole parts of the outer walls missing, you know what I mean. None of those are working, there is nothing being produced anymore, from an industrial base that must have had quite some capacity 25 years ago – even though production at the time may not have been the most efficient. Yet, some people have managed to patch up a few corners of those buildings, or some of the smaller sweatshops, and rent them out to Romanian small enterprise, any type of business, really. Car parts, garages, building materials, that sort of thing. In itself a positive development, of course, but what is really needed is some form of legal structure that can be enforced – without it, it will only be the big guys, well connected politically, who will invest. Which also happens: on some of the flattened land new, cheap buildings – corrugated iron, mostly – have arisen, and are being rented out to supermarkets and retail outlets.

and the old textile factory admin building

the green building, which I was not allowed to photograph from the public pavement

And then there are the few factories that have been saved, or that have been modernized and are still, or again, producing something. Almost always with foreign capital, but also occasionally with indigenous funding – which, in the eyes of the locals, is immediately suspect, of course, and probably for good reasons.

The dodgy-ness of some of this business was illustrated when I almost got arrested, in one of the complexes. As soon as I had stepped out of the car, to take some pictures, a guard – why do you need a guard, there, in the first place? – approached, rather menacingly. My quick-witted friend told him that I was a potential foreign investor, at which moment his attitude changed completely, and he enthusiastically started to call his boss. Not exactly what we wanted, either, so my friend told him that, really, my first visit had to be kept very low-key, as not to scare me, and my money, away. Which he perfectly well understood, of course. Of course? Elsewhere, I was on the public pavement, taking another picture of a building, when yet another guard appeared, telling me that this was forbidden. Based on what, he couldn’t explain – and even if I had been speaking fluent Romanian, I don’t think that would have changed anything -, but the fact alone that someone comes to tell you to back off means they must have something to hide. Or think they have something to hide.

prototype, 5-story palati, where half of your life happens outside

bunch of satelite dishes, outside one of the palatis

window onto the world

ground-floor apartment being exploited as a cafe-bar

inside corridor of a palati

and storage cupboards on the corridors, as well as one plant

In the communist days that built these factories, they also needed people to staff them, and people needed to live, so around the factories, extensive ‘palatis’ were built, with one- or two-room apartments. And a two-room apartment is really that, two rooms, not two bedrooms. But often they came with a balcony. Which, of course, could be closed off, to create extra space. One of the fascinating elements of these palatis – well, the thing that fascinates me – is the creativity and ingenuity with which people have made changes to their individual apartments – and I can only see the outside, so just imagine how this must look inside. We did make an attempt to see some of this inside, but we didn’t get much further than the corridors – indeed, where everybody has their outside cupboard, locked, because they have no room for that in the apartment itself.

You can read about all of this, these days, and I have done so, but seeing it with your own eyes, and having somebody who lived through this telling you about it, is a whole different experience. And I am still not sure that I can imagine all of it, the concept of living under communism and the subsequent rape of an industrial complex by the happy, non-scrupulous few.

And the saddest thing? We came across one factory building that was almost entirely intact. Built much longer ago, in the 1920’s or so, and with bricks, so there is no scrap metal value in the walls. Fabulous structure. Unused. Forgotten, it seems. Like so much from before communism. It seems.

Next: we go into Moldova, the Republic, not the province

brick 1920’s factory building

of which the windows have been smashed in, but for the rest, excellent condition

27. Iasi

Blog entries

the tower of the Palace of Culture, Iasi’s signature building

One of Romania’s biggest towns and its surroundings, with an insider’s view

Driving from Ploiesti to Iasi, after a few hours we decided to abandon the highway – which in itself is a big term for the two-to-four lane road that connects Bucharest with Romania’s second, or third, or fourth-largest city, depending on whose statistics you believe, and whether you count the student population. On the highway, bicycles are not uncommon, and despite signs forbidding them, horse-drawn carts are also a frequent sight. Most of the road is two-lane, with a fairly narrow hard shoulder, which is used as extra lane, allowing cars to overtake even when there is oncoming traffic, a perfectly normal concept in Romania. Which does nothing for the oncoming car overtaking the truck that stopped on the hard shoulder to buy grapes, or apples, or anything else that is sold along the road. Or for the car that has to turn left or right and moves at snail’s pace on the hard shoulder, or no pace at all on the main lane. In short, reason enough to abandon the highway.

poor quality photo, but still: on the highway, moving house

colourful pumpkins in the yard of a Moldavia village house – for decoration

way on top of things, or at least on top of the horse-drawn cart

beautifully decorated horse, in front of a simple cart

Which brought us into a much more attractive part of Moldavia, the third main province of Romania. Forests, as well as extensive agricultural land, small villages, some excruciatingly poor, others well-off; again, we observed this stark contrast, within a relatively short distance: in one village we find a man approaching us for a Euro, or for some money for a drink – his own words -, whilst in neighbouring villages the new economy was in full swing, new cars, new houses. Although the horse-drawn cart is present everywhere, rich or otherwise.

pedestrian centre of Iasi

the Palace of Cuture, in its (almost-)full glory

part-wooden houses in a Iasi courtyard

retro as retro can be: 1960s cinema, one of many in Iasi

roadside kiosk, out-of-order

a beautiful round bath house, still in use

and inside the bath house

palatis, one of my fascinations, for the dominant housing in Iasi

palatis, one of my fascinations, form the dominant housing in Iasi

Iasi itself is a pleasant enough town. The central axis is formed by a pedestrian street, along which the sites are aligned: an orthodox church from the 17^th Century, invaded by a group of Italian tourists – the church was a very peaceful place minutes before -, the somewhat unfitting Moldavian Metropolitan Cathedral, and nearby both the old, and the strikingly modern new Catholic Cathedral. The pride of Iasi is no doubt the Palace of Culture, a turn-of-the-century, neo-gothic giant, and the very modern redevelopment behind it, complete with apartment buildings and a shopping mall and an attractive park. But the town also sports several less celebrated, yet equally interesting buildings, like the 1960’s-type cinemas, and a real bath house, still in use.

village house

barn, with guard dog

the barn has openings and a resting shelf for pigeons

decorated fences are the rule, rather than the exception

metal roof windows, equally nicely decorated

this yard is populated by turkeys, amongst others

Thanks to friends from Iasi we have the opportunity to experience not only the city, in particular its post-revolutionary industrial past, but even more so the villages around, on a much more personal level, visiting grandparents, uncles and aunts in the country side. Many of these villages have fewer ostentatious new houses then we have seen in other areas, like Curte de Arges and also in Transylavania, and seem more authentic – but perhaps this is just another way of saying that progress is slower to penetrate, further away from the main roads, further away from the big towns. The traditional houses we visit are made from earthen bricks – local material – and have a humble, single floor set-up with a verandah connecting several rooms. Others are bigger, with a number of different entrances, but still ground-floor only, no need to expand vertically. Well, perhaps a little higher would have helped, to accommodate a tall Dutchman. Humble or not, houses have been constructed carefully, and people have made the effort to decorate, whether it is the fences or the roofs and the windows.

every self-respecting house has grapes

and it is harvesting time!

home-distilling set-up

and there it is, liquid gold with a faint plum taste

The yards are usually surrounded by subordinate buildings, barns and storage. They hold a variety of animals – chicken, turkey, geese, chained dogs, and there is room for pigeons -, and the garden is practical, for growing vegetables and fruit. Each and every house also has its grape vines: any self-respecting Moldavian family produces its own wine – with varying levels of success. But not only grapes, all other garden produce is being processed, too. Most villages have no shop, and people are much more self-sufficient that we can even begin to imagine. Peppers and cucumbers are conserved for use later in the year, milk is traded for bread, or a chicken. And plums, well, there are so many of them, the only way to process that satisfactorily is to turn them into alcohol. Tuica, the home-distilled plum brandy, is a big hit, not only in terms of popularity, but also as the result of copious consumption. We were fortunate enough to witness the production process, in something that in first instance looks a rather amateur-like set-up of a distillery column, cooled by a leaking barrel of water. And indeed, we smell the alcohol long before its starts dripping from the end of the column, suggesting that not only the barrel is leaking. Yet, thanks to experience and improvisation, the process is salvaged, so that at the end of the evening several buckets of tiuca can be transferred into plastic bottles. And the stuff tastes remarkably good; after a while, the pure alcohol is even replaced with something vaguely resembling plums!

Next: the factories and palatis, the industrial heritage in Iasi

26. the Prahova Valley

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colourful boxes used to bring the grapes to the Prahova Valley wine estates

Romania’s wine route, and its business model, is quite different from the ones in Western Europe, but interesting in its own right, as well as somewhat challenging

Romania is working hard on its tourist appeal, and one of the attractions being developed is the Prahova Valley Wine Route. An initiative not wasted on us, as you may have expected. Internet resources – there is no tourist information in Ploiesti, the nearest larger town, essentially because there are no tourist attractions to speak of, in Ploiesti -, provided some information, either praising the wine route, the Drumul Vinului, in general, or highlighting the individual estates. No detailed map, just a group of villages lined up from Filipesti in the west to Tohani in the east. There is a slight concern, in most wine houses require three days notice, and a minimum group size of 4, or 5, or 8, or even 20. But hey, what can go wrong if you just knock on the door?

The previous day, driving to Ploiesti, we had already scouted the western part of the route, which wasn’t very promising. No grapes along the road, no wine houses promoting their wares – don’t expect anything like Burgundy or the Alsace. But with a few firm addresses is our GPS system, we decided to give the route another try and picked up where we left, in Baicoi. Here we had spotted a sign pointing to the Drumul Vinului. Which turned out to be the last sign for a while. We did find a wine shop, one where you buy wine by the plastic bottle, from a barrel, but the owner vehemently denied that she was part of the wine route, that was somewhere else.

the wine route, signposted (sometimes)

the local wineshop, selling directly from the box into a plastic bottle

nodding donkeys in between the vines: cru crude

So we decided to head to our first firm address, Casa Seciu, which in fact turned out to be a restaurant located on a hill overlooking not only wine country – the first grapes of the wine route! -, but also an oilfield: nodding donkeys every few hundred meters, in between the vines. The wine here probably tastes somewhat crude. Despite being advertised as a Complex Turistica, it took a while for somebody to appear, and talk to us, initially every employee ran away as soon as they saw us arriving. Wine tasting? Yes, of course, Casa Seciu arranges wine tastings. For groups of 20 people or more, you get five or six wines to taste, from white to red to sweet dessert wine, no choice, and you pay 5 Euro per person. So what if we are only the two of us, can we still taste? Of course we can, only, we will have to buy each of the bottles we want to try, before opening them. The idea that this defied the whole reason for wine tasting didn’t ring home.

no paper copy of a map, but not to worry, this is the whole route

some of the grapes are just being sold along the motorway

But from here things got better. For starters, we managed to pick up the signs for the wine route again, only to lose them after a few more junctions, they just vanished. To miraculously reappear along the motorway, when we are heading for Valea Calugariasca, another wine village in our GPS. The motorway is part of the wine route! The closest the motorway comes to contributing to the wine route, is providing a space for the sellers of grapes along the shoulder, inviting enough for cars and trucks to stop – which they typically do half on the shoulder, half on the motorway.

our guide taking some wine from the barrel

our guide taking wine from the barrel

merlot only, at Mihail Rotenberg’s estate

Still no wineries. Finally, at the village of Urlati, we see Halewood Wines signposted, amongst two or three other wine houses. The others we fail to find, but Halewood turnes out to be a slick, well-organised business, part of an international wine conglomerate. Our host first takes us into the cellar, where she pipets some wine from one of the many oak barrels into a few glasses, for us to try. Excellent stuff, made from the indigenous Romanian grape Fateasca Neagra. From here it is to the tasting room, where we are presented with no less than five different wines, all of them of prime quality. No choice, unfortunately, we can only taste the five bottles that are open, but at least we don’t need to get a group of 20 together. Undisciplined as we are, we buy three boxes. Of course, we are still required to pay for the tasting, as well. As I said, this is not Burgundy or the Alsace.

wooden barrels lined up in the cellar of Rotenberg’s estate

each barrel carefully marked

Yet things are getting better still. Next, we arrive at the estate of Mihail Rotenberg, who happens to be there, himself. Mihail is a very interesting character, clearly passionate about his wine. Harvest is in full swing, but he still manages to make time for us, show us around and enthusiastically tell us about his hobby, wine making. In his own words, he tries to recreate a past that never was: although Romania has been producing wine for thousands of years, it was never done with sufficient patience and dedication, and he tries to turn that around, and go back to the roots of wine making. Everything – almost everything – is done manually, using the gravity to separate the liquid from the most, then store the wine in hand-made oak barrels of 225 liters each – he claims that even though each barrel is hand-made, the contents doesn’t vary by more than 1 or 2 liters! -, and once matured to the required taste, guide the wine to a simple bottling device. 120,000 bottles a year, no more, and Merlot only, sometimes mixed with a little Cabernet Franc, just like in the Bordeaux. Unfortunately, the tasting facilities are out of order – the lady who manages this part of the business is celebrating a birthday somewhere else, and the rest of the staff is too busy with processing the harvest -, but Mihail gives us two bottles, to try in our hotel room. Which we did, with great pleasure.

Mr Rotenberg himself handling the wine on his back-to-basics estate

this is the state-of-the-art processing facility at Budareasca estate

At the other end of the wine production process is Budareasca, a hyper-modern estate near the village of Mizil. By now it is close to 5 pm, and the people are about to go home, but one of the managers – with equal enthusiasm and pride as demonstrated by Mr. Rotenberg – takes us on a quick round of the premises, to show his ‘state-of-the-art’ wine factory, where everything is automated. Budareasca can handle 3 million liters a year, and a series of huge steel vats testify to that. Here, too, we don’t get to taste the wine. We are late, on a Friday afternoon, but even so, I suspect that two people would not be enough to trigger the tasting process, groups of 4-7 people are the minimum, 8 during the weekend, and once again notice is required. But the brand-new building is exquisitely equipped to receive groups, with large tables in a central hall, from where the oak barrels down below are visible. All very business-like, very professional, although it misses the human touch a bit. By now we begin to understand that the business model of the wineries here is not to make you taste in order to stimulate sales, no, the tasting itself is what makes the money.

the vine yards at the eastern end of the route, near Tohani

some ancient carts in the yard of hyper-modern Tohani estate

not everything is wine-related, in the fields

more grapes, ready to harvest

The last part of the wine route, which is very well signposted, is the nicest, most beautiful also. Here the hills start rolling, and vine yards extend as far as the eye can see, a pretty picture in the later afternoon sunlight. The Tohani winery is the one furthest east, and is closed already when we arrive. It is no doubt another ‘state-of-the-art’ enterprise, but in their back yard I find some jewels of long gone times, which I assume are for display purposes only.

Tohani wine shop in Mizil village, you cannot miss it

Back in the village of Mizel we find a Tohani wineshop, a small enterprise where wine is being sold from the barrel. This is where the average Romanian comes, with his empty plastic bottle of 1 or 2 or 5 liters, and receives a top-up, for 1.5 Euros a liter. The shop owner is very relaxed about wine tasting. No fancy rooms here, no fancy tables. No glasses either, we get some wine presented from the barrel, in small plastic cups. On the house, of course! Great stuff, at an unbeatable price. We buy another few boxes.

Next: to Iasi, the capital of the Romanian province Moldavia

more grapes, being sold along the road rather than processed into wine

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first-hand travel experiences and impressions of travel destinations

Voronet Monastery

Voronet Monastery, painted in Voronet-blue, contains one of the most famous external frescoes of all Bucovina Monasteries, and there is a look inside, too

Humor Monastery

The church of the Humor Monastery in Bucovina, with its fabulous outside frescoes

33. the painted monasteries of Bucovina

The brilliantly painted monasteries of Bucovina, in Northern Romania, have been remarkably well-preserved, despite a long history.

32. to Bucovina

Even after three weeks Romania we still encounter new forms of housing, including those with metal roofs and with car windows, on our way to Suceava, capital of Bucovina

31. Bicaz & Ceahlau

Romanian natural beauty is well-represented in the Eastern Carpathians, but so is the local tourist industry

30. the Moldovian tourist attractions

A quick visit along what is supposed to be the creme-de-la-creme of the Moldovan tourist attractions.

29. into Moldova

An empty country, with little outward indication of progress, although the capital Chisinau is a lively, relaxed place

28. an industrial heritage

By now you know about my obsession with decrepit factories and with ‘palatis’, in reality called ‘blocks’, here, but ‘palati’ is a much nicer word. A view of what is left of Iasi’s industrial complex, and why.

27. Iasi

One of Romania’s biggest towns and its surroundings, with an insider’s view

26. the Prahova Valley

Romania’s wine route, and its business model, is quite different from the ones in Western Europe, but interesting in its own right, as well as somewhat challenging

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Voronet Monastery, painted in Voronet-blue, contains one of the most famous external frescoes of all Bucovina Monasteries, and there is a look inside, too

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The church of the Humor Monastery in Bucovina, with its fabulous outside frescoes

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The brilliantly painted monasteries of Bucovina, in Northern Romania, have been remarkably well-preserved, despite a long history.

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Even after three weeks Romania we still encounter new forms of housing, including those with metal roofs and with car windows, on our way to Suceava, capital of Bucovina

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Romanian natural beauty is well-represented in the Eastern Carpathians, but so is the local tourist industry

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A quick visit along what is supposed to be the creme-de-la-creme of the Moldovan tourist attractions.

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An empty country, with little outward indication of progress, although the capital Chisinau is a lively, relaxed place

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By now you know about my obsession with decrepit factories and with ‘palatis’, in reality called ‘blocks’, here, but ‘palati’ is a much nicer word. A view of what is left of Iasi’s industrial complex, and why.

Share this:

One of Romania’s biggest towns and its surroundings, with an insider’s view

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Romania’s wine route, and its business model, is quite different from the ones in Western Europe, but interesting in its own right, as well as somewhat challenging

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Recent Posts

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