Off to Moldova by bus, with long pauses at the border. The kindness of strangers! I had an address in Chisinau near the opera, Peter's German language school. A man on the bus got me on the right minibus to the center and another youth directed me to the right bus for the opera. I found the right street but not the address, and a schoolgirl, Zulifira pulled my luggage and asked passersby, gave me her number and email and promised to find me a bed if this didn't work out. I had Peter's fiancee's number, Aline, but she didn't hear the phone. Finally we found it and the secretary (Aline has a travel agency in the same suite), offered me coffee, tea and internet, so I was relaxed and happy,
Handsome Peter arrived and taught group classes in another room. Lovely Aline came, welcoming and friendly, and at last we three took a bus and then a taxi to their spacious, luxurious second floor apartment in a house just outside the city, Dumbrava. I had the bedroom of a past roommate and we all enjoyed Peter's cooking.
Aline had advertised for a German-speaking female roommate some time ago, and Peter was the only response she got. He promised to behave but eventually Aline changed the conditions and they were planning to marry soon in Denmark, where the paperwork was less onerous. They looked at flights and car rentals and decided to leave that Sunday, leaving me with the keys and the beautiful apartment.
Moldovans don't trust banks, so the next morning we walked up the hill to a bank where she deposited stacks of 50 lei notes, then took a bus back to the office for documents they needed for the trip. Aline showed me cheap restaurants (closed), helped me purchase a ticket to the Nutcracker ballet for the next day, and change money. Peter took his pants to a poor seamstress in the neighborhood and we went to a shopping center for soup and shopping. Aline was getting over a cold and needed a blanket for their trip. Peter and Aline speak to each other in English and German. Later we met a Moldovan German teacher at a Andy's pizza, a chain, for a business meeting, and then it was back home for them to pack. They took a taxi to the bus station, a bus to Kiev, a visit to Peter's mother and a flight to Denmark. They wanted a good reference on Couchsurfing from me to increase their chances of finding a couch in Copenhagen, and I gladly filed it. I got to finish all the leftovers in the fridge!
I had bequeathed my wonderful collection of Somerset Maugham stories to them and found a 400 page novel, The Memory Keeper's Daughter, I had no trouble finishing before my departure.
Alone the next day, I followed directions and found the bus to the center. Early for the 4 pm ballet, I sat in the park across the way where a sheet reading Hyde Park was hung, and Moldovans were speaking into a microphone without harassment. There were lots of children in the audience for the Nutcracker, and the little girl next to me in the second row bounced and talked and watched me enjoy a dark chocolate bar but the star ballerina smiled throughout. On my other side was a student intern from New Jersey sitting with German, Belgian and English colleagues. The modern opera house lobby was full of photographs of stars past and present.
Monday I hauled my luggage uphill to the bus stop and left it with the girls at the travel agency, to walk around and visit the market, My VISA card didn't work in the ATMs so I dug into my cash and with the girls' help figured just how much I needed to change to pay for the night train to Bucharest. Moldovan money has no value anywhere else. In fact there is a small breakaway republic Transnistria with its own currency and that is where Zulifira's alternate accommodation was. The Russians heavily subsidized this place and are now presenting Moldova with the very considerable bill. It seems an impossible situation, Moldova has a very high rate of alcoholism.
The girls escorted me to the bus to the train, and another girl on the bus helped me too, revealing herself to be a Jehovah's witness. I spent my last change on cheese danish and gum, then made myself at home in my train compartment, the usual 4-bunk set-up all to myself. I read short stories, finished my wine, suffered in the heat, and wore my nightgown as we went through customs. Moldovan trains have smaller wheels than normal; the wheels had to be changed before entering Romania!
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