Chisinau, Moldova
We arrived. I mean, we arrived. It’s another Minsk. Believe me, as the day wore on, there was nothing to do here. Really! Moldova’s main attraction is a very small Paris-like version of the Arc de Tromphie with a big white clock on top looking out at the important government building where Ollie got in trouble with the local police, but first when we arrived, we got some local currency out of a ATM and instantly became millionaires (joking) and went back to the station to buy our tickets for our sleepy train journey to Kiev that evening (which once again cost £25 for journey plus a bed). The train station is actually quite modern, recently re-built and is very glamour’s with marble white flooring and dark oak door décor. Outside the station on a side street was the slums. Children playing football with a pigs head in the street (ok, not a pigs head, but god knows what it was!) homeless guys with cheap vodka laying in the doorways, and chickens all over the place.
We walked towards the centre. A bit difficult at first as there was no sign posts and we didn’t have any information or guide books with us. After going past a Soviet Union statue near the Comos hotel, we came into the main street. The centre is really small and reminded me of our time in Skopje in FYR Macedonia last summer (or Baker Street junction back home in London). Rusty old tin buckets roll along the street (sorry, trolleybus) with Skoda’s and Ladas. Every other building in the street hosted a currency exchange counter. Why? Is there a tourism boom here which I don’t know about? I didn’t see any other tourists. I didn’t even see any Japanese or Chinese people with their cameras around their necks. It seems to me that we were the only people in the city playing the tourists.
Carrying on down the street we were out of the shopping area. That was quick. We were now standing outside the administrative buildings of Moldova. Taking photos as you do, I turned around and across the street was the building with the clock. So I started taking photos of this and turned around and saw Ollie talking to a police officer and he started to look worried. I stood next to both of them and I could see the police officer not understanding a word of English apart from the word passport. The officer asked for Ollie’s passport and his response was ‘hotel!’ Shit, Ollie, I know you read a lot of things on the internet which most of the time is crap when it comes to Eastern Europe, but we not in far out Russia or dealing with the traffic police in Ukraine. I jumped in quickly with my basic Russian skills and straight away got to an understanding with the officer.
We walked around the side streets and came across a big market which seems to do more business than the limited number of shops in the city. Music blurring out everywhere playing cheesy Russian pop, people pushing and shoving and most of the market stalls were selling fruit and vegetables. After a while, we were bored and found an internet café so we killed an hour in there.
After killing time in the American fast food joint (so Ollie can say he had a rubbish meal in McDonalds in Moldova). Ollie said we should kill more time by walking out of the centre and into the suburbs. Ruined houses, run-down houses and a bookshop. This was visited and we brought the only postcards they had on sale so we could send them to our loved ones back home. Outside we looked at them. Puzzled! There was six of them. All of them of buildings which mean bugger all to the tourists and one of them was a picture of the Soviet style apartment blocks! Why? How boring! I’m still sending them anyway. So when it came to writing on them, one said –
“Hi Mum and Dad,
I’m in Moldova.
Danielâ€
And the other ones I sent to Olga and my friend Tea in Slovenia were like –
“Hey babe,
I’m F@@@@@@@ bored. Get me out of here. I want to get to Kiev!â€
That should make them laugh.
So anyway, walking around town even more, I got really bored. Brought some bread which I found out was a hard as a horse’s penis when I tried to eat it on board the train later that evening.
Anyway back to the station where Ollie nearly brought a pack of twenty cigarettes for 13 pence to take home. They looked nasty. The train was here. Yes! Let’s go! Let’s get out of the most boring country in Europe! If it wasn’t for the bird watching here, I would have nearly cried like I did in Denmark a few weeks ago. The 1957 train from Chisinau to Moscow pulled away into the dark nothingness of the Moldovan countryside. We had dinner, the bread thrown away, cans of Chisinau beer to be enjoyed which for the second night in a row, I knocked over a can of beer off the table, onto the floor, my trainers and the jeans I was wearing.
I had a good sleep on the train knocking off at 2200, and woken up at 0500 for the two customs and passport checks. Another conversation in Russian with the Ukrainian guard, which he had a close look at my stamps, and once again taking interest in my visas for Russia and Belarus from last year. The Moldovan passport officer was a fine stunning girl wearing a furry Russian hat and gave a smile. A nice wake up call.
Waking up at 0800, I had a quick wash and even though it was cold outside, the cabin was baking hot. I’m sweating like a pig! Rolling through the countryside, rubbish everywhere, we came into Kiev, which came into view around 1300, and I was thinking about a girl called Victoria, a friend who would meet us at the train station.
The train pulled into the platform, I said goodbye to a Moldovan guy called Tim, a nice guy and it was time to explore country forty-four, Ukraine and it’s capital, Kiev (or Kyiv!)
