Moldavian farm — a brief introduction

Dmitri Moruz
Aug 24, 2017 · 5 min read

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.

My brother, checking weather forecast at the Paicu bus station. Village is 1 km away from the road. Waiting for Vasily to pick us up.
Sky, somewhat 50 minutes before the sunrise. Autumn is approaching.

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

Vasily’s dogs went a few kilometers from farm to meet him and follow him back.

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).

My first encounter were little piglets.
And another one
That’s the entire herd, some hiding on the left. According to Vasily there are about 195 livestock total.
Walking around the fence spotting surprised faces.
Another one
Constantine and his son arrived. It’s time to get ready for milking.

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.

Family business
Livestock ready to be milked. One by one they pass through a door, where the milker man (today it’s Constantin) meet’s them with caution.
Bespoke milk container hand-made out of aluminum barrel with a suspended aluminum cup in between. It fits about 5–6 liters inside.
At about 7 am Constantin and his son started milking.
A goat is gazing
Another portion of stock is waiting for their turn. It’s sheep’s turn now.
Collected milk is being poured through a layer of fabric into a larger barrel. Air smells fresh milk.
It leaves out foam and unwanted particles.
Milk is ready to be delivered further. Taking a break in a horse wagon.
By the way, meet Frunze, a horse! Translated from romanian Frunze means “Leaf”.

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.

A jump into freedom
Herd disappeared in dust.
Just about time to make a team photo.

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.

Barrel full of milk. Weather is still chilly, but the metal is warm.

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.

This is Moldova

Modern Moldova for everybody. Insights, facts, stories from travelers and locals, destinations and other things making up modern Moldova.

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Dmitri Moruz

Written by

This is Moldova

Modern Moldova for everybody. Insights, facts, stories from travelers and locals, destinations and other things making up modern Moldova.

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