Moldova
Moldova

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Top 10 Travel Destinations Moldova:

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21 travelers at this place:

  • Day22

    Grenze Moldawien

    July 9, 2019 in Moldova ⋅ ⛅ 22 °C

    Die Grenzformalitäten gingen vollkommen problemlos und sehr freundlich und locker ab...auf beiden Seiten. Der rumänische Zöllner sprach gutes Englisch und war sehr an unserem Fzg interessiert. Ein kurzer Blick ins Innere und gut war.

    Auf der moldawischen Seite ein ähnliches Bild...nur mit weniger englisch Kenntnissen, aber trotzdem sehr entspannt.

    Der Kauf der Vignette für Moldawien war dann ein etwas längerer Vorgang weil die arme Dame uns eine dreifache Ausfertigung ausdrucken musste...3x1 Tag...und jede Ausfertigung hatte gefühlte 5 Seiten...aber sie musste selbst über das Prozedere schmunzeln...also, alles gut...

    Der gesamte Übertritt hat eine gute Stunde gedauert...

    Jetzt geht's Richtung Chisinau und dann zum Weinkeller nach Cricova...
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  • Day22

    Weinkeller Cricova (Moldawien)

    July 9, 2019 in Moldova ⋅ ⛅ 22 °C

    Nach weiteren 2 Stunden Fahrt über noch schlimmere Straßen und Sträßchen sind wir in Cricova angekommen. Moldawien ist noch viel ärmer und leerer als Rumänien, bei insgesamt 3 Mio Einwohnern kein Wunder. Landschaftlich ein Traum, Weiden, Wälder, Wein und Obstplantagen wohin man auch schaut. An den Strassenrändern findet man alle paar Kilometer wieder überdachte Brunnen mit Trinkwasser frei Haus, jedoch auch für die meisten der Dorfbewohner

    ...in Cricova erst mal im Supermarkt einkaufen, eng, alles auf russisch und rumänisch und noch billiger als Albanien. Wir haben ohne Probleme den gut ausgeschilderten staatlichen Weinkeller gegen 18 Uhr erreicht. Andy hat sofort Juri kennengelernt, der betuchte moldawische, rumänische und ukrainische Touristen mit dem Minibus dorthin fährt. Auch er supernett, konnte ein bisschen deutsch und erzählte uns von moldawischen Eigenheiten und der wohl heftigen Korruption. Wir haben dann noch Karten für die Besichtigungstour mit dem e- Büsschen für den nächsten Morgen um 9.00 Uhr reserviert. Die Nacht durften wir auf dem Parkplatz stehen bleiben...perfekt!

    Heute morgen ging es dann im offenen Minibus von 20 Grad draußen mit rasanter Fahrt in den Weinkeller bei 12 Grad konstanter Temperatur...brrrrr. Schon die Fahrt zu der ersten Station auf 60m Tiefe und der zweiten Station auf 100 Meter Tiefe war gigantisch. Unsere englischsprachige Führerin versorgte uns mit faszinierenden Daten und Fakten. So haben wir schätzungsweise mal gerade 3 km von den 120 km Straßen und Wegen, mit Strassennamen und Verkehrszeichen befahren... in jeder Hinsicht war der Besuch grandios.
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  • Day92

    Crossing Moldova

    August 5, 2018 in Moldova ⋅ ☀️ 31 °C

    What did we do in Moldova? Have a lunch snack, buy a drink (paid with Romanian lei :D), talked a tiny bit with some people in the village (hand-foot communication only)

    Why? It's a new country and on the way to Ukraine

    How long? We stayed maybe 1hour in Moldova. Would be great to explore the country. But we need to save that for one of the next holidays ;)Read more

  • Day10

    Valeni

    September 27, 2019 in Moldova ⋅ 🌧 15 °C

    Wir haben heute den Ausflug „Unbekanntes Moldawien“ gebucht, eigentlich einen Dorfbesuch mit Folklore. Aufgrund des Dauerregens wurde die Veranstaltung statt auf dem Dorfplatz kurzerhand in ein Restaurant verlegt. Zur Begrüßung gibt es Brot und Salz und moldawischen Wein. Die Folkloregruppe besteht aus gestandenen Moldawierinnen, ich würde es mal als eine Art Landfrauenbund bezeichnen, die die moldawische Kultur bewahren möchten. Die Damen präsentieren sich und ihr Programm mit so viel Leidenschaft und Herzblut, dass es eine Freude ist, ihnen zuzugucken und zuzuhören. Dazu gibt es noch mehr Wein und moldawische Spezialitäten. Trotz Dauerregen ein gelungener Ausflug und ein moldawischer Stempel im Pass.Read more

  • Day10

    Giurgiulesti

    September 27, 2019 in Moldova ⋅ 🌧 16 °C

    Am nächsten Morgen erreicht die Anesha Giuriulesti, den einzigen Donauhafen der Republik Moldawien. Überhaupt besitzt Moldawien nur 600 Meter Donauufer, die das Land der Ukraine teuer abgekauft hat. Ein Zugang zur Donau bedeutet einen Zugang zum Schwarzen Meer und damit einen Seehafen, der große wirtschaftliche Bedeutung hat.
    Gestern Abend, kaum waren wir wieder an Bord, hat es angefangen zu regnen und das tut es heute morgen immer noch ununterbrochen.
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  • Day21

    Moldawien und Kischinau.

    October 13, 2019 in Moldova ⋅ ⛅ 22 °C

    Heute morgen,Samstag in Moldawien eingereist,war schon Chaos pur,sind beide Grenzen direkt hintereinander,Ausreise Rumänien,Einreise Moldawien,Ausreise und Einreise Ukraine,hat mich 20€ gekostet weil ich die grüne Versicherung Karte nur als Kopie habe.Nun aber bin ich in Moldawien,Armut pur,Straßen da würde jeder offroad Fahrer Geld dafür bezahlen,ganz ganz schlimm,gibt keine Kneipen bisher,fast keine Autos aber ganz viel Elend,aber Moldawien ist mit einer der größten Weinanbauer,und was ich bisher sah sehr stark vom Klimawandel betroffen.bin jetzt in der Haupstadt Moldawiens,bin wohl der einzig Tourist,wie überhaupt ist hier absolut außer Klöstern nichts.Davon jedoch viele und alle sehr gut in Schuss,was man vom Rest des Landes nicht sagen kann,aber Kischinau gefällt mir(hab noch nicht allzuviel gesehn) bisher von den Groß Städten fast am besten. Und auch die Menschen sind sehr nett war gerade auf dem Bazar (riesig)Einkauf en und es ist alles richtig billig,werde morgen noch in Moldawien bleiben und mich dann auf den Weg nach Odessa machen,will endlich ans Schwarze Meer.Hier ist dieletzten Tage T—Shirt Wetter,richtig warm,Hanni macht immer noch was sie soll und das klasse,obwohl es gestern bei einem Schlagloch so geknallt hat ,dachte schon jetzt fällt sie auseinander,man kann sich den Straßenzustand glaube ich gar nicht so vorstellen ,aber bei uns der schlechteste Weg überhaupt(fällt kein Vergleich ein)ist hier noch immer eine super Straße,bin hier aber auch gute Straßen ,nicht viel,gefahrenRead more

  • Day174

    Moldavien

    October 21, 2019 in Moldova ⋅ ☀️ 18 °C

    ...oder vor allem Zollkontrollen!
    Da uns der Osten ja nicht mehr so behagt, wollen wir Richtung Süden und lassen Moldavien aus. Zumindest dachten wir das. Nur führen die Strassen halt doch da durch.
    Heisst Zoll von der Ukraine nach Moldavien. Anhalten, Papiere her und Aussteigen. Der Ukrainische Zoll nimmts super genau, wohl einfach weil da ein höherer Herr auch noch rumschleicht. Motorhaube auf, Rahmennummerkontrolle. Beifahrertür auf, Handschuhfach durchsucht. Seite öffnen, Alle Schränke erklären, erklären wir seien Nichtraucher, ja auch Marihuana nicht, Crack haben wir auch nicht, glaubt er nicht. Also Dach hoch, verdächtige Oropaxdose, doch nichts. Heck noch auf, Nahrungsergänzung von Nadia studieren, uff wir sind durch. Auf ins Büro 4, Stempel, dann Büro 1, Stempel, Customs im Büro 2, haben wir nichts. Ok wir sind durch. Dann 1km Strasse durch Moldavien, wobei die Strasse eher ein grosses Schlagloch war, zur nächsten Grenze. Jetzt rein in die EU, sicher einfacher. Und wirklich, es geht ziemlich flott. Die wissen wohl alle, dass die Ukrainer es schon sehr genau nehmen.Read more

  • Aug24

    Das unabhängigste Land der Welt

    August 24, 2019 in Moldova ⋅ ⛅ 30 °C

    *** The most independent country of the world - For an English version please scroll down ***

    ‚Moldova is the most independent country of the world. Nothing depends on Moldova‘ (kleiner Scherz unseres Stadtführers).

    Ich habe mein Rad bei Constantin im Dorf Rosu geparkt und bin mit dem Bus, so einer typischen Kleinbus-Marschrutka, nach Chisinau (sprich ‚Kischinau’) gereist. Das ärmste Land Europas… die Hauptstadt wirkt dennoch auf den ersten Blick wie eine riesige Shopping Mall. Die Geldautomaten spucken neben Lei oft auch Euro und Dollar aus, haufenweise Wechselstuben - wer Geld übrig hat, tauscht es lieber und legt es sich in Euro unters Kopfkissen, als es in Landeswährung auf dem Konto zu lassen. Laut der nächsten Statistik ist die Republik Moldau zudem das Land mit der drittniedrigsten Touristenquote weltweit, direkt nach Bangladesh und Guinea. Grosse Sehenswürdigkeiten gibt es tatsächlich nicht zu entdecken... Moldawien produziert Wein und Getreide, die Landschaft ist unspektakulär, die Farben sind irgendwie gedämpft, als würde man durch eine Sonnenbrille schauen, die alles ein bisschen beiger macht.

    Busfahren ist natürlich ein Abenteuer für sich. Man wartet an der Strasse an der Stelle, die halt jeder kennt, bis der Bus kommt - Fahrplan hängt gar nicht erst irgendwo aus - und dann Daumen raus. Wichtig ist, wenn der Bus hält, den Betrieb nicht aufzuhalten - also schnell die Tür aufstemmen, dem Fahrer das Ziel zurufen, die Schiebetür mit genügend Schwung wieder zuknallen und - so vorhanden - auf einem freien Sitzplatz niederlassen. Das Geld wird zum Fahrer durchgereicht, das Wechselgeld wandert den Weg von Hand zu Hand zurück, wenn’s sein muss quer durch den ganzen Bus.

    Auf der Fahrt gab‘s ne Rauch- und Pipipause, und ich war zum ersten mal auf einer öffentlichen Toilette bar jeder Privatsphäre... zwei Stehklos nebeneinander ohne Kabinen drumrum, und auch nach draussen gab es keine zu schliessende Tür. Männlein und Weiblein immerhin getrennt... also kollektiv pieseln mit den moldauischen Kopftuchomas. Nach zwei Stunden Rumpelstrasse dennoch erleichternd, etwas Frühstückskaffee wieder loszuwerden.

    Ein Abstecher nach Transnistrien, in die abtrünnige Republik im Osten des Landes, scheint das aufregendste zu sein, was man so unternehmen kann. Hier liege noch ein Hauch des real existierenden Sozialismus in der Luft, so steht‘s zu lesen - der real praktizierte Tourismus gestaltete sich jedoch eher unspektakulär. Nach freundlicher Grenzabfertigung in fließendem Englisch hatte ich meine Aufenthaltsgenehmigung für einen Tag, Zeit genug, um in der Hauptstadt Tiraspol einmal die Paradestrasse voller Banken, Shops und Kaffeeläden abzulaufen und ein bisschen Sowjetarchitektur und das Konterfei des Genossen Lenin zu fotografieren. Eine eigene Währung gibt‘s, die ausserhalb Transnistriens nicht mehr wert ist als Monopoly-Geld, und auf der Rückseite des Fünfers prangt - wohl aus Denkmalmangel - die bekannteste Schnapsfabrik des Landes.

    Ich habe es irgendwie nicht zu einer Meinung geschafft, was den Transnistrien-Konflikt betrifft. Es ist alles kompliziert, Menschen wurden Jahrhundertelang hin- und hergeschoben, um- und angesiedelt, vertrieben, getötet, es wurde eingenommen, abgetreten, Kriege wurden geführt, Grenzen gezogen, Strukturen zerfielen, neue wurden verhandelt, und dazwischen schlagen halt Herzen für irgendeine Heimat.

    Ein Fazit dann wenigstens zu Moldawien als Reiseziel: Es gibt definitiv sehr wenig andere Touristen. Dass es nichts zu sehen gibt muss man halt mögen. Nur für Connaisseure ;-)

    ***

    ‚Moldova is the most independent country of the world. Nothing depends on Moldova‘ (little joke by our city guide).

    I parked my bike at Constantin‘s place in the small village of Rosu and went to the Chisinau by bus, one of these typical mini busses called Marschrutka. The poorest country in Europe... nevertheless its capital resembled a giant shopping mall at first glimpse. The ATMs often provide you with Euro or US Dollars in addition to the local Lei, exchange offices everywhere - whoever has some spare money prefers to keep dollars under the pillow to Lei on a bank account.

    Looking at the statistics Moldova also is the country with the third lowest number of tourists worldwide, runner up to Bangladesh and Guinea. Well, actually there are no big sights in sight... Moldova produces wine and wheat, the landscape is not very spectacular, the colors somehow pale, as if looking through glasses that turn everything a little more beige...

    Taking the bus is an adventure of its own. You wait by the street at the place everyone knows, til the bus arrives. Who cares for timetables. Thumb out. When the bus stops it is important not to slow down operation - so hurry to pull the door open, shout your destination to the driver, slam the door closed again and stumble to a free seat in case you find one. The fare is handed from hand to hand towards the driver, change returned vice versa, through the whole bus if necessary.

    There was a pause to smoke or pee, and for the first time in my life I used a public toilet bare of any privacy. Two ‚french‘ standing loos side by side without any cabin around, not even a door to close the whole room from outdoors. At least men and women separate. So it was collective peeing with the scarf wearing Moldovan grannies. After two hours on bumpy roads it was quite relaxing to get rid of some morning coffee anyhow.

    A detour to Transnistria, the apostate republic in the eastern part of the country, seems to be the most daring thing to do. Still a hint of true socialism in the air, one can read in tour agency leaflets - well, regarding tourism, don‘t expect too much adventure. After a friendly border control in fluent English, I had my one day permit, enough time to wander up and down the parade alley in Transnistrias capital Tiraspol, bursting with bank houses, shops and coffee places, and to take some pictures of the soviet style architecture and the statues of comrade Lenin. Transnistria has its own currency, which outside the country is as worthless as Monopoly money, and on the backside of the fiver you‘ll find, perhaps lacking other monuments, a picture of Transnistrias most famous brandy company, Klint.

    Somehow I cannot come up with my own conclusion regarding the Transnistria conflict. It‘s all complicated, for centuries people got moved back and forth, settled and displaced, forced and killed, wars were won and lost and new frontiers drawn, structures broke down and new once were negotiated, and in between of all of this there are hearts simply longing for a homeland.

    At least some conclusion regarding Moldova as a trip destination: There are definitely very few fellow tourists. Nothing to see is a very special interest. Connaisseures only ;-)
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  • Day33

    Chisinau

    August 28, 2018 in Moldova ⋅ ☀️ 27 °C

    Sophia meet the family, family meet Sophia!

    Sophia and I had started seeing each other only a few weeks before I left Australia, which was bad timing all around, but as luck would have it she was planning a trip to Europe as well and was only too happy to meet me for an adventure through soviet styled unrecognised separatist states and nuclear wastelands.

    We rendezvoused in Chisinau, the capital of the least visited country in Europe. Everyone I had met on this trip who I told I was going their expressed a mixture of disbelief and a warning that there was very little to see or do, but it was a necessary stop due to being the best launching point to get into Transnistria.

    Abiding by the warnings, we only spent one night in Chisinau, but I actually got quite a bit of nostalgic pleasure out of the city. It took e a couple of hours to realise why, but it finally hit me that it reminded me a lot of Bucharest in Romania. The language is Romanian, the people are ethnically Romanian, the food is Romanian and they spent most of the 1990’s advocating to become part of Romanian. I had fallen in love with Romania last year, so it was nice to indulge my nostalgia.

    It was true, however, that there is not a lot to see, nor was there any free walking tours to show us around, so after a late start in the morning, we constructed our own tour, and managed to see all the sites in a couple of hours. The highlight easily being catching an orthodox service in a gold and blue monastery, those priests sure can sing! We followed that with a huge Romania feast for lunch where I ordered half the menu, extremely happy and excited to be back in south Eastern Europe and the middle eastern influence that provides.

    Finding our bus to Transnistria after lunch proved to be challenge as we were sent to the wrong bus station a few kms to the north by our hotel receptionist, but that at least got me to introduce Sophia to the unique Romanian style public bus system as we backtrack to the correct bus station, which happened to be located a couple of blocks from our hotel.
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  • Day35

    Tiraspol

    August 30, 2018 in Moldova ⋅ ☀️ 27 °C

    Transnistria represented everything I love about travel, that addictive feeling of awe and wonder, where you lose yourself in a different and alien world. If travel is a drug, chasing that addiction has become ever harder as the world contracts, caught between my growing body of experiences on one side and increasing homogeneity on the other. Yet Transnistria was a glorious hit of that ever elusive high, a place like no other place I have ever been.

    A land of mystery and contradictions. A final Soviet enclave, clinging desperately to the glory days of communism, yet almost entirely owned and controlled by a single private company called Sherriff, which is everywhere and is everything, owned by an ex-KGB oligarch of who only one known photo exists. A place where the KGB still exists and corruption reigns supreme, but where seemingly open and free democratic elections happen every 4 years. A land with one of the lowest GDP’s in the world and in dire economic straights, yet with a complete lack of the overt poverty and homelessness you see in either Moldova or the Ukraine on both its borders. A country that has lost 50% of its population since it declared independence 25 years ago and where 98.5% of budget revenue is spent on pensions leaving the rest of the tab to be picked up by an ever growing budget deficit. An economy that is based on 3 major ex-soviet industrial plants, running on Russian gas from the east and exporting power, textiles and steel to the west, with the beautiful irony that Transnistria pays nothing for the gas, because Russia doesn’t ‘officially’ recognise Transitria (despite having a permanent military presence there) and are thus billing Moldova for the gas (an unpaid ‘bill’ that now exceeding $5 billion) - Putin is nothing if not an ingenious bastard. A regional soccer powerhouse, with the best stadium in Eastern Europe, which houses the Sherriff football club, which plays unbelievably acrymonious sounding games in the Moldivian league and winning the last 12 of the last 13 years.

    It’s best to think of Transnistria like Crimea in 2038. Following the collapse of the Soviet Union, Moldova started flexing its nationalistic muscle, forcing the population to speak Romanian. The local Russian population, which had been forcibly resettled there through the Soviet’s extensive efforts to increase Russian influence throughout the region and as a result of Moldova being a Soviet manufacturing centre requiring a continual supply of Moscow educated engineers, took exception to this and in 1992 rose up. The war lasted about a year and was largely a stalemate, until the Russians intervened as ‘peace keepers’ and never left. No peace treaty was ever signed and no UN state has ever recognised Transnistria’s sovereignty, however, you can visit the South Ossetia embassy in the Capital, Trisapol, if you ever feel the need for a visa. Today, the uneasy truce remains, the international community still recognises it as part of Moldova and you won’t find it on any official maps, but this doesn’t stop Transnistria from having it’s own heavily militarised border (complete with pill boxes and tanks), it’s own military (backed by a very heavy presence of Russian troops), it’s own central bank and currency (including plastic coins) and it’s own parliament and president.

    For us, Transnistria could easily have become a whistle stop tour, a passport stamp (well a visa slip, as a stamp would invalidate your passport) and a cool dinner story, if it weren’t for Roman. When I was first planning on Transnistria all evidence suggested that all that was possible was a 24 hour visa, with an extension to 48 hours if registered with a hotel. With such limited time I explored the best possible ways to see as much as possible, which led me to the only American in Transnistria, Tim, and his local sidekick, Roman. Tim offered us Roman’s services for the day to show us around, which was unbelievably fortuitous and single handily made Transnistria a highlight of the trip. Roman and Tim appear to be the main local media fixes and logistics specialists in the country and Roman was an awesome tour guide, a young local who speaks excellent English and the son of the former body guard of the first Transnistria President. As a sign of the older generations indoctrination, he also told us at length of his grandmother’s repeated and fervent warnings of the dangers of the west and glory of the past.

    This was also no ordinary tour, after meeting us in the morning, we started by doing a lap of Tiraspol’s Main Street, where Roman seemed to take our lead as to where to go and what to see next. A loop took us to Transnistria’s university, which is frozen in all it’s Soviet glory, and where Roman warned us we may get harassed by security, but on this particular day they were chill, which may have been because it was the university’s admissions day, so the place was filled with prospective students and their parents trying to secure a spot, probably with the help of a healthy bribe. When I asked whether this is where Roman went to school, he laughed and explained that no and that the corruption is so ingrained that it was impossible to pass without paying off the lecturers and administration, which, of course, makes the expensive piece of paper completely useless at the end of the day. This corruption runs deep, Roman himself avoided compulsory military service by paying off a doctor $1000 (in a country where the per capita GDP is a bit over $2000) to falsify a medical exam.

    He then took us down the main drag, past the Sheriff football club’s fan shop, the prominent office of Putin’s Russian political party, a fantastic little soviet book store (complete with side by side photos of Stalin, Putin and Transnistria’s current president), the flea market, parliament (with the obligatory statue of Lenin out front) and the memorial to the 1992 war of independence. Somewhat annoyingly, Transnistria’s Independence day falls on 2 September, which I only realised a few days previously and, despite our best efforts, we couldn’t make our dates work to ensure we were in Transnistria for the big day. This hurt, but the city was in full swing, sprucing up the place by painting curbs and fountains, lining the main drag with Transnistria and Russian flags and the Presidents’s podium had been set up, which provided an unmissable photo opportunity.

    Roman also took us to the main city markets, which were amazing. Made even better by the villager stall holders who were full of smiles and insistent on us tasting their wares and posing for photos. The meat market was particularly impressive, where Roman took us to the back corner, where the biggest, scariest looking Russian dudes stood waiting by their enormous butcher blocks for the next beast to be brought in to be butchered. The size of these guys meant we were hanging back and giving them plenty of space, but they called us over, asking Roman where we were from and insisting we take photos of them and Sophia wielding huge axes and sides of meat.

    After exhausting the city sights, we jumped on a bus and headed to a village of 1000 people 20 minutes out of town. As a testament to the ridiculousness of Soviet economic decision making, this tiny village had in the middle of it a massive community hall (again complete with original Lenin statue), where, by chance, we caught a class of young ballerinas, who were only too happy to let us sit quietly in the corner watching their lesson and pinching ourselves that we hadn’t just been teleported backwards in time 40 years. This was followed by another time capsule, the village store. Manned (womanned?) by the loveliest babooshka, who, somewhat surprisingly, waxed lyrical (well translated by Roman) about politics, the craziness of man and her desire for everyone to just get along, while plying us with assorted local snacks (mostly of the dried and smoked fish variety), beer and cognac (which is the Transnistria’s equivalent lent of Cuban cigars, highly regarded around the world, and very hard to get, except when you are in Transnistria, where it is less than $10 a bottle). The village also boasted the largest and richest Orthodox monastery we had seen so far, a place so big and wealthy that it has two seperate churches, one for winter and one for summer. It also had extensive vegetable gardens that Roman explained was free for the villages to come and take what they want when they want.

    Back in Tiraspol, I had my second minor celebrity experience of the trip as we were joined by two Polish travel vloggers (Bart and Tomas) who were in town filming their next vlog. Bart had made his name filming vlogs in Venezuela, amassing over 200,000 subscribers, which is very impressive for a Polish language vlog. From Tiraspol we headed out to another village, which is the old workers accomodation for an abandoned collective farm. I had always pictured collective farms as basic and primitive, but this place was mind blowing. The accomodation blocks gave the first indication of the scale as we went inside and explored the large crumbling apartment blocks, went to the local store for some homemade wine and had a really special moment taking a breath and hanging out in the old playground, watching the local kids running amok and the old men playing dominos. From there it was on to the farm’s shell of a university, which was built to educate the next generation of farmers. The building has been torn apart for anything of value, but from the vestiges of what remain, this was obviously once a grand and ornate building for the Soviets, full of intricate tiles and mosaics. A lone security guard on a bike prevented us from going any further into the grounds of the farm, but we got a sense of the farms scale by the regular sentry towers that you could see going off into the distance. These towers were fitted with spotlights and manned by soldiers, not to keep people out, but to prevent the workers inside the farm from stealing crops. The piece de resistance though was the power plant. This farm had its very own power plant with two turbines built especially for it. The place was mind blowing, a testament to the insane soviet economy model and the ultimately futile industrial might that came with it.

    Back in town once more it was time for dinner and drinks, before Roman, loaded up with bottles of cognac and coke, took us on a romantic night river cruise up the Dniester river. We were joined by three other local girls for the trip, where we were serenaded with Russian techno music blasted at 11, while drinking cognac and coke out of plastic cups and trying desperately to distract the drunk locals from causing mischief to themselves and others around them.

    It’s always a risk to build up expectations of a place. The entire reason I am back in Eastern Europe this year was to go to Transnistria, and this is where Sophia was joining me based on my overly excited descriptions, so there was even more riding on a destination than normal and I can’t say I wasn’t a little concerned. In the end though it exceeded my expectations. This place is beyond wild, a place that exemplifies and yet simultaneously defies generalisations. A place where I feel we barely scratched the surface, left me begging for more and memories for a lifetime.
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You might also know this place by the following names:

Republic of Moldova, Moldau (Republik Moldau), Moldova, Mɔldova, ሞልዶቫ, Republica de Moldavia, مولدافيا, ܡܘܠܕܘܒܐ, Moldavia, Малдова, Рэспубліка, Молдова, Република, Molidavi, মলদোভিয়া, Moldavija, Moldàvia, ᎼᎵᏙᏩ, Moldavská republika, Молдави, Moldofa, Moldova nutome, Μολδαβία, Moldava Respubliko, مولدوا, Moldawii, Moldavie, Moldaavje, An Mholdóiv, મોલડોવા, Maldoba, מולדובה, मोल्दोवा, Moldawska, Moldavi, Moldáv Köztársaság, Մոլդովա, モルドバ共和国, მოლდოვა, សាធារណរដ្ឋម៉ុលដាវី, ಮೊಲ್ಡೋವಾ, 몰도바, مۆلدۆڤا, Respublica Moldavica, Moldawien, Molodova, Moldavië, ໂມນໂຄວາ, Môldavia, മള്‍ഡോവ, मोल्डोव्हा, Maldova, माल्डोभा, ମାଲଡୋଭା, Moldabya, Mołdawia, Republika, Moldávia, Mulduwa, Moludavi, Republica Moldova, Moldavùii, මොල්ඩෝවාව, Moldavsko, republika, Молдавија, Moldavien, மால்டோவா, మోల్ డోవ, ประเทศมอลโดวา, Molotova, Moldovya, مولدوۋا, Республіка Молдова, مالدووا, Môn-đô-va (Moldova), מאלדאווע, Orílẹ́ède Modofia, 摩尔多瓦, i-Moldova

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