Our First Proper Morning in the Chișinău House

This morning we woke up in our house in Chișinău.

What a marvellous feeling.

For months the house has primarily been a renovation project: builders, materials, furniture, problems to solve, things to buy, things to correct and an apparently endless list of details before we could really live here. This weekend, however, we finally crossed that rather important line between working on the house and actually living in the house.

And this morning we slept until 08:30.

That alone felt like an achievement.

The luxury of sleeping until 08:30

We have been staying with Vita's parents while the work here progressed. They are very nice people and have looked after us extremely well, but their house comes with a completely different morning schedule.

There is a rooster that apparently considers 05:00 the correct time to announce the beginning of civilisation, while the local dogs seem to regard most of the night as an appropriate period for extended discussions with one another.

It certainly helps you wake up early.

It is less useful when Saturday or Sunday arrives and your only ambition is to sleep for a few more hours.

So waking naturally at 08:30, in our own bed, in our own house, surrounded by relative quiet, was wonderful.

There is a point during a renovation when a building stops being a project and starts becoming home. I think sleeping there, waking up and beginning an ordinary morning is one of those moments.

The night itself had not been entirely peaceful, however.

We now have underfloor heating, and we discovered very quickly that the house was far too warm for us. We eventually lowered the temperature to 20°C and opened the windows.

That might sound strange to people who like a warm bedroom, but Vita and I are exactly the opposite. We both sleep much better in a very cold room. Around 10°C is perfectly comfortable for us, and even less does not bother us.

Apparently one of the first things we are going to have to learn in the new house is how to control the heating properly instead of accidentally turning the bedroom into a tropical environment.

There was another problem as well. For some reason I could not identify, the area around my patellar tendon had become inflamed and extremely painful. I spent much of the night waking up because of it.

So it was a strange combination: physically quite an unpleasant night, but psychologically a very nice one. Each time I woke up because my knee hurt, I was also conscious of the fact that I was waking up in our new home.

The first breakfast — and the first mystery

Morning brought another small surprise.

The gas supply to the house was working, but for some reason there was no gas reaching the hob. We had no idea why.

This was not exactly a catastrophe. A large supermarket is directly across the road, and we already had enough food for a very simple breakfast.

So our first proper breakfast at the house consisted of tea, bread, cheese and salami.

Nothing sophisticated, but somehow exactly right.

We took everything outside and ate on the still semi-finished deck. I rather enjoyed it. Vita decided quite quickly that it was too cold and returned inside.

I stayed outside a little longer.

There are moments when simplicity is more enjoyable than perfection. The deck is not finished. The garden is certainly not finished. The house still has issues to solve. The hob did not work. My knee hurt.

But we were sitting outside our own house having breakfast.

That was enough.

Sunday morning, gas pipes and the unmistakable smell of KVINT

Between finishing breakfast and midday, we received a visit from two men who had come to inspect the gas installation and discuss modifications to the pipework around the new deck.

Yes, on a Sunday morning.

That was already a pleasant surprise. Getting people to come and discuss construction work on a Sunday is not something I automatically expect.

There was, however, a rather entertaining detail.

Both gentlemen appeared to have enjoyed a considerably more festive Saturday night than we had. Judging by their manner and the unmistakable smell of alcohol, I suspected that the previous evening's celebrations had not entirely finished with them.

And if I had to describe the aroma, I would say there was a distinctly KVINT-like character to it.

For those unfamiliar with Moldova, KVINT is a well-known producer of wine and divin, the local wine spirit often compared with brandy or cognac. The company dates back to 1897 and is based in Tiraspol.

Now, I cannot say what they had actually been drinking, or even how much. But my nose was certainly suggesting that the weekend had been enjoyable.

And there we were, on a Sunday morning, discussing gas engineering.

I love Moldova.

But first, a little background is necessary, especially for readers unfamiliar with older gas infrastructure in this part of Europe.

In Moldova, as in several other countries with a Soviet infrastructure legacy, it is quite common to see natural-gas pipes installed visibly above ground. Rather than disappearing underground or inside walls, sections of the distribution and service pipework run outside buildings, along walls and sometimes across courtyards.

They are frequently painted bright yellow.

They are everywhere.

It is a practical arrangement in various respects, particularly because the pipework remains visible and accessible for inspection and maintenance. From an architectural perspective, however, these yellow pipes are not exactly beautiful.

And in our particular case, they are also inconvenient.

The existing pipework crosses the area where we have built the outdoor deck. As things stand, we have to duck beneath part of the installation when stepping into the deck area.

That might be tolerable once or twice, but it is hardly an acceptable long-term arrangement for a place we intend to use regularly.

We therefore need the gas pipes to be rerouted so that the deck can be accessed normally, without having to bend down every time.

What initially sounded like a fairly simple modification quickly developed into a much more complicated discussion.

First, there was the actual route of the gas pipe. It had to be compatible with the new deck structure and its roof.

Then there were the gutters. We cannot install the pipe in a position where it interferes with rainwater drainage.

Then came the outdoor lighting. The new pipework must not conflict with the electrical installations or their planned positions.

And, of course, we still need reasonable accessibility for future inspection and maintenance.

In other words, we were trying to coordinate several systems at the same time: the gas supply, the deck structure, the roof, the gutters and the lighting.

But that was not everything.

Apparently we also need to install a safety device that can shut off the gas supply automatically if a problem is detected. The discussion concerned what they called the cazan, the Romanian term for the boiler used in our heating system.

From what I understood, the proposed protection would involve some form of automatic gas shut-off arrangement. The precise technical specification still needs to be established.

Finally, we also want the existing gas meter moved to the outside of the house, which would make the installation more practical and accessible.

So our supposedly simple Sunday-morning discussion eventually covered rerouting the gas pipes, relocating the meter, introducing a safety shut-off mechanism, avoiding the gutters, accommodating the lights and respecting the new deck structure.

All of this was being inspected, considered, explained, discussed and occasionally explained again with two gentlemen whom I strongly suspected were still recovering from an excellent Saturday night.

It was quite an experience.

The amusing part was the Sunday-morning atmosphere. The serious part is that gas installations require proper technical planning, authorised work and safety checks. Whatever was discussed informally, the actual modifications must be completed and verified professionally.

To be fair, the fact that they came on a Sunday to examine the situation was genuinely appreciated. We need this work done, and having somebody come to the property, look at the physical constraints and discuss possible solutions is progress.

As for the rest, well, Moldova continues to provide those little experiences that make living here interesting.

The entire episode reminded me that renovating an old property is not just about choosing finishes and installing furniture. Sometimes it means reconciling an existing infrastructure arrangement with a completely different use of the available space.

And sometimes that technical coordination happens on a Sunday morning, accompanied by what smells suspiciously like the previous night's KVINT.

Only in Moldova? Perhaps not. But it certainly felt very Moldovan.

Then reality returned: rubbish, timber and an ancient shack

After the gas discussion, the romantic part of the morning was definitely over, and we returned to the much more practical business of finishing a house.

We skipped lunch altogether.

Vita concentrated on cleaning and organising things inside. I went outside.

There is still a considerable amount of construction material and rubbish around the property, so I started carrying as much as possible to the rubbish container in the street.

At the same time, I was consolidating the useful construction materials into one of the small structures at the back of the land. There is little point having boards, pieces of timber and other materials distributed randomly around the property when they can all be kept together in one place.

I also started dismantling a very old God-knows-what shack that has been occupying space outside for far too long.

I am genuinely not sure what it once was or what purpose it served. Whatever its history, its future is rather clearer: it needs to disappear.

Progress eventually came to an involuntary stop when the street rubbish container became completely full. There was simply nowhere sensible to put anything else.

That produced another small item for my ever-growing house list:

Buy loppers and hand pruners.

There is vegetation around the property that now needs to be cut back properly, and trying to deal with everything using whatever tool happens to be nearby is not a particularly sensible strategy.

The house is still unfinished, but we are no longer postponing our life until every final detail is complete. We are living here now, and the remaining work can continue around us.

That feels like an important change.

A renovation encourages the idea that there will eventually be some magical moment when everything is complete, the tools disappear, every wall is perfect and the entire property suddenly becomes finished.

Reality is not quite like that.

There is always another shelf, another cable, another piece of rubbish, another outdoor job and another thing that could be improved. At some point you simply have to begin living in the place.

A shower, supplies and another supermarket trolley

By nearly 15:00 I had done enough physical work for one day, particularly with my knee already complaining.

Another wonderful shower followed — something that still feels surprisingly luxurious after spending so much time dealing with construction — and then we left for the supermarket.

Vita's parents had asked us to bring them some supplies.

That is another adjustment we now have to make. While we were staying with them, we were physically there all the time. Now that we are living separately again, looking after them has to become more deliberate. We need to remember what they need, buy things for them, visit regularly and make sure they are all right.

Moving into our own house does not change that responsibility.

Unfortunately — or perhaps inevitably — going to the supermarket for somebody else's shopping also resulted in us buying more things for our own house.

A new home has a remarkable ability to make apparently ordinary supermarket items suddenly seem essential.

And, somewhere along the way, a bottle of wine entered the trolley.

The choice for the evening was a bottle of TOMAI Pinot Noir rosé demisec. The bottle itself carries the familiar TOMAI "Wine Estate 1903" marking, a rather appropriate Moldovan addition to the end of our first proper weekend in the house.

Nothing ceremonial was planned. No party, no elaborate dinner and no grand declaration that the renovation was finally finished — because it certainly is not.

Just a bottle of wine at the end of a long day.

And then we stopped

By the time we were finally back and able to rest, the day had caught up with us.

At around 19:00, Vita went to sleep.

At 21:00, I was preparing to do exactly the same.

Not exactly the wild celebration traditionally associated with moving into a new home.

But perhaps that is precisely why I wanted to record this day.

There was nothing extraordinary about it when reduced to individual events. We woke up late. I had a painful knee. The bedroom was too hot. The hob did not work. We ate bread and cheese. We discussed yellow gas pipes with two very cheerful Sunday-morning visitors. We cleaned. I carried rubbish. I dismantled an old structure. We went shopping. We bought supplies for Vita's parents. We bought more things for ourselves. Then we became exhausted and went to bed embarrassingly early.

And yet, taken together, all those ordinary things made the day important.

For months this property has been something we were repairing, planning, paying for, discussing and waiting for.

Today it became the place where we woke up, had breakfast, worked, showered, came home with shopping and eventually went to sleep.

Today, it simply became home.

Yellow gas pipes, questionable Sunday-morning sobriety, unfinished decking and all.

I love Moldova.

AI Assistance Disclosure: This article is based on my original notes, photographs, personal experience and observations. Artificial intelligence was used as an editorial and research assistant to improve grammar, wording, structure and presentation while preserving the events, humour and perspective described in my original account.

Limited factual research was performed to clarify the terminology associated with the gas boiler and safety installation, as well as background information about KVINT. Personal observations and impressions remain my own, and the technical modifications discussed in the article have not been independently inspected or verified.