The Polish village of Stircea
On the next day we head towards Balti. The ride passes quickly as there are few cars on the road. In Balti I take a pill for the headache that has been haunting me for a few kilometres. As I am standing outside a supermarket, waiting for the drug to start working, two bikers approach us. One of them – Wasia, invites us to stay at his place for the night. He says that for the past 3 years he has been the owner of a local bike shop – one of just three cycling shops in Moldova. His business is quite small – approximately 30 square metres, but as he says: "some day it will be better". This certainly sounds familiar to us! Wasia is shocked to hear that in Poznan alone, there are about 15 bike shops.
Next day, we are planning to cross the Romanian border. Unfortunately, I have a headache again, so we make a stop in the village of Stircea, mainly inhabited by Poles. When we reach the church, we already know that we want to spend the night here. We go inside and notice sheets of paper with Polish hymns lying on the pews. We ask a nun about accommodation in Stircea. She sends us to the Polish House, situated at the end of the village. The lady who looks after the building allows us to stay here for the night. We meet Ignacy – a PhD student from Warsaw University. The rest of the WU crew will arrive tomorrow. He says that they have been coming here for years, conducting ethnological research and taking care of the local Polish museum. They started when they were still ethnology students and now they try to involve next generations of undergraduates. He invites us to the museum. We spend an hour there, listening to stories and touching exhibits, after which Ignacy announces that his neighbour has invited us for a drink. We find ourselves in the kitchen of Mr and Mrs Kotulewicz. On the table, there are plates with cheese, butter, cottage cheese with cream, bryndza cheese, salt and garlic, tomatoes, cucumbers, meat, bread and delicious placinte – pies with pumpkin filling. Of course there is vodka and peach compote drink. Everything is home-made, except for vodka. The unbelievable pace of eating, drinking and conversation caused us to forget about the passing time. Luckily, we decide to go back in due time. It is almost 10 pm. We receive provisions for the road and they bid us farewell as if we were their closest family. And this is how I took a rest from cycling (although not exactly as I planned it ;-)
Next day, we are planning to cross the Romanian border. Unfortunately, I have a headache again, so we make a stop in the village of Stircea, mainly inhabited by Poles. When we reach the church, we already know that we want to spend the night here. We go inside and notice sheets of paper with Polish hymns lying on the pews. We ask a nun about accommodation in Stircea. She sends us to the Polish House, situated at the end of the village. The lady who looks after the building allows us to stay here for the night. We meet Ignacy – a PhD student from Warsaw University. The rest of the WU crew will arrive tomorrow. He says that they have been coming here for years, conducting ethnological research and taking care of the local Polish museum. They started when they were still ethnology students and now they try to involve next generations of undergraduates. He invites us to the museum. We spend an hour there, listening to stories and touching exhibits, after which Ignacy announces that his neighbour has invited us for a drink. We find ourselves in the kitchen of Mr and Mrs Kotulewicz. On the table, there are plates with cheese, butter, cottage cheese with cream, bryndza cheese, salt and garlic, tomatoes, cucumbers, meat, bread and delicious placinte – pies with pumpkin filling. Of course there is vodka and peach compote drink. Everything is home-made, except for vodka. The unbelievable pace of eating, drinking and conversation caused us to forget about the passing time. Luckily, we decide to go back in due time. It is almost 10 pm. We receive provisions for the road and they bid us farewell as if we were their closest family. And this is how I took a rest from cycling (although not exactly as I planned it ;-)
