June 2019

Unexpected stopovers is always a treat, especially to the places you have never been, and frankly, have never had any particular intention to visit. Being curious about any country on the planet, I can’t say that Moldova never attracted me as a destination, but I would be lying if I said it was on my immediate radar. Especially, considering that Moldova, just like Ukraine, used to be a “lucky” part of the “glorious” USSR, so we have a natural prejudice that it would be very much similar to what we have experienced on every day basis for many years of our lives. Just in case you are here for the first time and wondering why I am bringing Ukraine to this – I am Ukrainian. :)

But. At this point it had been six years that I had left Ukraine, so I had a lot of time to experience different lives and to develop a different angle towards the “by default” similar countries. In Ukraine I started feeling if not like a tourist but somewhat exterior spectator, which meant that Moldova for me then seemed like a total terra incognita. Thus, with a Wizzair ticket in my hand, I embarked on a plane Beauvais-Chisinau with a plan to get to the Chisinau-Kyiv train the following day.

My plane landed quite late, so all I could do after a very exhausting flight including crying kids and a very talkative neighbor was falling on the hostel bed. How young of me. In the morning, I went out to explore the city. As I am not a good on-foot walker (quite untypical for a travel blogger, isn’t it?), first of all I went to a bike rental shop and got myself my own transport. After all, I must justify a bicycle on our logo, mustn’t I?

So here I was, on two wheels with the whole city at my disposal. On the maps.me map I beforehand prepared the spots that seemed interesting to me and then hit the Chisinau roads. In one day I could have never seen so much on foot or with public transport. If you think it’s just another bicycle advertisement, it surely is.

My list included the following: the old soviet circus building (I have a weak spot for Soviet brutalism and I’m not ashamed to admit it), a big park that I can’t recall the name of, literally every street of the city centre, a Historical Museum and some random spots from google suggestions. I’m pretty confident I covered some forty kilometers, the only thing I regret now is not noting what I saw and where I passed precisely.

How would I describe my impressions about Chisinau…? Even if it’s something I would hate to hear about my own county, but it is indeed very similar to any medium Ukrainian town. It does indeed have a lot of Soviet heritage in terms of architecture, town planning, Russian language presence (which I hope will die soon, the war Russians started does everything to accelerate these things). At the same time it looks…wilder? In Ukraine we know Moldova first of all for its wines (and I’m pretty sure that in France nobody knows absolutely nothing about it), so this southern vibe clearly shows itself. Grapes are everywhere – I saw them in public parks, in private gardens, they grow just on the streets, and there is something very cozy and home-like about it. Probably it just sent me back in my childhood memories and my grandparents’ house in a village near Kherson.

Over the last four years I somewhat changed my views about the aesthetics. Back then I was in the phase “Ugly is beautiful” and was really fascinated by old soviet house blocks skittered around the ex-USSR countries. Today what I see in the first place is sadness. I don’t want to become “a western tourist” in search of “an authentic local ugly beauty”. I want people to live in decent conditions.

Overall I had a very good “solo female traveler” day. The highlight was, of course, the food – I found a small restaurant serving Moldovan cuisine and genuinely loved it! Thus, I discovered that Mamaliga was not just a funny word that I believed was my father’s invention, but a very delicious cornmeal porridge. Naturally, I didn’t deny myself a pleasure of local wine tasting. The wine was so good that I bought two bottles for my family and later regretted I didn’t bring more of them. I even started fantasizing about coming back with Xavier for some more profound wine tasting; we’ll see whether it will ever come to life.

The train travel that I was looking forward to reminded me, unfortunately, about the drawbacks of “solo female traveling”. The steward in my wagon (which stayed completely empty until the morning far after we crossed the border) was friendly first, and then became unwelcomely friendly. I appreciated a small talk with strawberries he shared, but telling me how long he was without sex and how easily he can unlock the door of my compartment in night was clearly creepy. This wasn’t the thing I’d like to finish my story with, but at the same time this is what happens on the solo travels, so putting it into words would be simply honest. My good impressions about Chisinau aren’t affected even for a bit though!