Moldavian farm — a brief introduction
This is a story about our trip to a farm in Paicu, a super tiny village on the border with Romania, somewhat 10 km away from the city of Cahul.
If you’ve read the story about our brand, then you know that white color from the logo is meant to stand for soft cheeze, or Brinza in romanian. I insist that Brinza is one of the cornerstones to understanding Moldova, and the story takes us to the place where that product originates — the typical, rural, undeveloped, and truly authentic moldavian farm. You’ve heard that more that half of population lives in rural areas, but you had no idea what those people are up to over there. Beware: this is a private farm and we do not suggest you travel there on your own.
Getting there
Spending night at Cahul, there is a morning bus at 5:10 towards Chisinau which is making a stop near Paicu. We’d agreed with Vasily, a man working there to pick us up a the bus stop, near an abandoned gas station.


Weather was dramatically colder than in town, and 15 minutes passed like 45. Luckily for us, Vasily came with just a little delay.

At the farm
We are on the farm. It’s not big, pretty small. We stay in the car whilst Vasily takes care of the dogs. A difference between the role of a dog at the Moldavian farm, and say, New Zealand, is that here dogs are for the safety reasons. They make sure no one steals anything by pretty much keeping everyone at a distance from the farm, including wolves (which are rare, but probable).






Milking routine
Animals are being milked twice a day: in the morning before grazing and in the evening, after. In order to get livestock ready, they need to be moved into separate collectors. And here is a big difference again: dogs are not doing anything. In New Zealand it’s dog who move the herd in desired direction, not the farmer.










Then to pastures, again
Now it’s time to let the sheep go grazing. Vasily is opening up the gate and managing to direct them towards the pasture.



Farm economics
Money come from selling end products such as: soft cheese, cottage cheeze and sour cream, as well as selling meat, wool and sheepskins. There are many farms (3 in the tiny Paicu alone), but there is virtually no competition. You might expect to find a name, a brand or a tagline on one of these farms but you won’t — they simply do not behave like mature businesses.
You might’ve noticed that I’ve called this location a farm, but in fact it is not a farm, it is something that’s called “Tirla”, or a sheepfold in a remote location animals spend time during the mid-day whilst being close to pastures. And in colder days animals are supposed to come back to the fully equipped farm with proper shelter, which Vasily and Constantin unfortunately do not have. In fact the whole business side is not much different than if you had a few sheep in your back yard. On top of that, farmers rarely have choices as of where to sell wool and sheepskins. The only option they have is an intermediate economic agent that is willing to pay them 6 lei (about 30 cent) per kilo of raw wool, that does not even cover sheep shearing, which costs about 10 lei per kilo.
Moldavian farm is key to understanding Moldova’s economic relations, and their rustic nature. It is also a place of constant labour and everyday struggle.
Going home
Milk is in the wagon and Frunze is taking us home. It is just about 9:15, and many people are still asleep, but there.


Constantin and his son back home to take care of the milk. Us — back to Cahul. See you later on one of our following trips.

