View: Moldova

Scott's family at a fancy-pants restaurant in Chisinau.
Scott and I cooked garlic bread in the oven of my soba (fire) on my last night. More below.
We opened up our last bottle of wine from our vacation, a first cru wine from Beaune, France. We prepared a pretty damn good meal for what we were working with, but still couldn't help but laugh often at the fact that we're drinking such a serious bottle of wine in a house that is made of clay. (Note: I urged Scott to move the Kraft parmesian cheese off the table for the picture. I was feeling domestic, proud that we'd cooked all of this with the conditions we were working with. I didn't want to remember that we topped off our Moldovan-lifestyle meal with an American store bought product. But, alas, I've been revealed. You can see it there, right next to Scott on the bed.[Scott, what were you thinking??])
Is there not something hysterical about a baba talking on a radio phone?
This is how I moved my wood to my new house. Those boys are two of my basketball kids, and my new baba, Nina, is there in between them. Riding in that with my wood and coal, through the village, was full of laughs. From the boys, Sergui and Pavel, who couldn't get over how exciting it was for me. From all the neighbors, who had no idea why there was a foreign girl sitting on wood on their street, and more importantly, from the teachers at school who were outside when we passed by. I think the fact that the American was riding in this horse and 'carriage' was something they'll never get over. They felt accomplished, and so did I.