Travel, 50+, Moldova

Whenever people think of Moldova... They don't really know what to think. The place is a bit like a ghost of Europe's past in a small parcel at the back of the dusty closet of an old uncle who passed on years ago (and you don't want to open that parcel for fear of what you might have to think about, if you do).

It is true that they are suffering from stale Soviet winds to an extent. It is true the the place is pretty much the poorest place in Europe not at war right now. It is, also, true that it is one of the most positive surprises I have had over the last few years. Admittedly, I was not expecting a lot. I knew about the Russian forces penetrating the national porch, overall poverty, production of wine and not much more. We don't talk about Moldova much. It's like that weird cousin with half the face pierced with metal, tattoos all over the body, ripped clothes for suspicious aesthetics, soul wrenching taste in music, selective mutism around the extended family and an air of ominous mystery around them. The conservative aunts and uncles wail, they label this family outcast with their fantasy of satanism and other fun stories. Pitying themselves over having such offshoot still alive and visible. The submissive members nod, make agreeing noises and feed the status quo. And then there's someone like me who is curious and finds all sorts of freaks and weirdos mighty interesting. Probably why I end up in places and situations. Anyway, where was I?

As the Canadian delicacy or, alternatively, the kind French word begun the fuss over an old man's power fantasy, Moldova had to make some tough choices. Despite the diaspora spread out and a massive propaganda manipulation attack, they chose straight spine and self determination rather than collapsing under history. They were all over the news for a good minute and this reminded me that maybe I should go. Like right now. Just in case. I mean, I was always going to go, but it's always better to go sooner than too later.

Based on the latest rumors, I was expecting something like gray old people looking after school-aged kids with a few winos swimming through their life on the streets. Potholes large enough to make some Lada Samara's and Niva's jump around like frogs. Collapsing buildings and a few fat, corrupt politicians and a bunch of "liaisons" and "businessmen" living the life. I mean, it kind of was like that, but it wasn't. The capital looked relatively nice, actually. Many well kept areas, all the modern stuff you could ask for readily available, people of all ages out and about, and a scent of actual future.

And then, traveling to the countryside was like entering a time capsule. Despite, there were young adults and activities of hope and future everywhere. Loyal to my customs, I crashed a wedding on accident. They accepted me as a part of the moment and even gave me candy for some reason. I mean, they say never take candy from a stranger, but... Congratulations to the young couple, once again!

While being able to dive into live history and see things long forgotten in most places, the travel is not for everyone. Expect a packed maxitaxi where you will get to enjoy knees in your mouth. Yours, mostly, but sometimes somebody else's. And yet, I did this over and over again. You know, to get a scope of the land and feel of the opportunities.

One of those treks took me to a place called Gagauzia. It turns out to be somewhat of an independent area, albeit not as discussed as Transnistria (more of it in a separate post). It turns out to be a bit of a Russky-sympathizer. You know what, scratch that. A lot of them are still hardcore...

While the locals were not conversationalists, probably due to my linguistical limitations, a particular bus driver was. He had already been checking me out like a closeted, aged out winky twink in the capital and made his move in (a suitably named, if you will) Comrat. As I was buying a ticket for my way back, he came to control the situation like he owned the place. He boasted how he would make sure the ticket lady would not screw me (oh, horror!) and even demanded he passes the banknotes to her, which was completely unnecessary. (And he wasn't trying to steal, just to "be of service".) The situation weirded out everyone, except for the bus driver himself. The guy was on a mission. And then he heard me say something he didn't like and all of the sudden he was quick to escape inside his ancient Mercedes Benz (probably a 1970s model) bus he swore earlier was good business to drive between Moscow and "around here" (I saw no one inside, although anyone could have been bound and gagged on the floor, though). While we may speculate on his motivations and endgame, let's just say it was bad weird and I'm glad he got spooked off.

The daily ramble is over. Let's try to tie this up somehow.

The Judgment:
It seems there is an effort to ease access to Moldova (see new flight routes). If you are a hint on the adventurous side, I suggest you take the opportunity. The country is somewhat of a virgin in tourism, so you can get some of that "genuine" stuff so many "real travelers" are always yammering on about. It is very affordable, on the absolute inexpensive end of Europe. The food is good and has a surprisingly wide variety. The people are still real and don't really bother you unnecessarily (a couple of gypsy beggars tried to approach me on the main street of the capital and they weren't pushy at all). The young adults speak English quite readily and you'll survive the older folks as well. You know, with a little sign language on the side. In my view, the country was very safe. I felt more safe there than I've felt in eg Stockholm, Madrid, Amsterdam, Belgrade or Milan (to give some point of reference). If Moldova takes off, as they have potential to do, you don't have all that many years to experience the time capsule. You might even celebrate it with a glass of Moldovan wine they seem to be very proud of.

If you're Mimosa Fancypants of minimum 4* resort requirement level, however... Don't bother.

Would I go again? Yes.