The Hidden Small Country of Moldova in Eastern Europe
About a decade ago, I was walking along an old railway track after getting off the train,
crossing a vast wheat field plain that formed a boundary between the sky and earth.
The sharp, dry wind that blew across the coast and borders, along with snow, had seeped
into the earth under spring's blessing.
The barren and dry fields once again permitted the
prosperity of descendants left behind by those who died last year.
The green earth and nameless wildflowers blooming upon it vibrated to make the incoming
wind visible, guiding the direction of the blowing wind.
Perhaps the silent agitation of
wildflowers greeting the wind stemmed from a fear beyond the twilight that would
someday come, something they could never speak of.
The Plains of Odesa, Ukraine. Whenever I looked at this land, it reminded me of the
Ukrainian flag.
It was already autumn.
Getting off the train that had stopped in the deserted field, I passed through the reddened
railway tracks.
While the villagers disappeared beyond the distant horizon, I walked and
continued walking without deciding on a direction.
Goats suddenly popped their heads above the waist-high wheat fields to observe me, but
soon disappeared again as if they had lost interest. A young woman, carrying a goose in
her arms, squinted under the sunlight as she went looking for them.
Further away by the
f
lowing river, an elderly man wearing a gentleman's hat was rowing a ferry, half-leaning
against it.
I went down to the bank where a willow tree stood to capture the old man in my photo, but
unable to gauge the depth and slope beneath my feet, I reluctantly decided to take the
picture with my back against the willow tree.
The boat carrying the old man was already
disappearing beyond the distant horizon.
"Min, we need to go now."
"Where to?"
"To where the family is.
They're waiting for you, and they've prepared delicious food.
Though I'm not sure if you'll like it..."
"As long as it's not the tomato pickles and fermented fish from last time, anything is fine. By
the way, how far does this railway track extend?"
"All the way to the neighboring country. It probably connects even beyond to Romania."
The central station of Odesa impresses with its grand dome and classical architecture, as a blue Ukrainian train stands ready on the platform.
In what became the last of my second journey, the landscape there painted a cold earth
covered in stillness, blanketed by silvery snow carried on winter winds.
The lives that had
once bloomed alongside abundance had all become stars in the night sky, dimly shining far
beyond the dry, transparent heavens.
Just as they could no longer be touched, the
connections to that place ended forever.
Time did not permit that place again, rendering even promises meaningless.
After a long time, the unfortunate fate that the wildflowers had silently warned of revealed
itself as war, and the news only briefly reported that the place had been bombed.
A still and quiet view of Tiraspol station, where the tracks stretch endlessly under Moldova’s open sky.
Moldova was one of the countries where their fragments were scattered.
After the war began, many Ukrainian refugees crossed Transnistria toward Europe, and
some established new roots in Moldova.
In the early days of the war, Russians and Ukrainians staying there, as well as those with
Moldovan identity, must have faced tumultuous changes, but time may have subdued the
conflicts between them below the surface.
While staying there and looking for daily life information, I was able to find one of those
already forgotten traces in a review.
[They did not allow people with Russian passports to set foot in this place (building). I
express my gratitude for their determination.]
The Moldovan teacher who taught me Romanian also said this at that time:
'We no longer speak to them in Russian. If they don't speak in Moldovan (Romanian), they
cannot order coffee there.
A symbolic welcome to Chișinău, where bold letters and a coat of arms greet visitors entering Moldova's capital.
But in 2024, such worries proved unfounded.
I was concerned because I was more familiar
with Russian than Romanian, but people didn't mind.
Soldiers collected the passports of people entering this country, and various nationalities
were mixed among those stacks of passports.
They communicated in Russian or Moldovan (Romanian), and throughout the wait, I didn't
feel any discomfort or tension.
The staff member who verified my entry procedures told me
in Russian that all procedures had been completed.
For the people there, what mattered wasn't the fact that I spoke Russian, but simply that
they needed to know why I had come to this place
The golden splendor of Chișinău’s Orthodox church interior reflects centuries of spiritual artistry and reverence.
Chișinău’s night market bustles with food, lights, and weekend energy as crowds explore the festive stalls.
Moldova’s renowned Château Purcari presents its elegant 1827 Pinot Noir, a legacy of centuries-old winemaking.
A friend I met at the wine festival explained Moldova like this:
"Due to many of them (foreigners) coming in, housing prices seem to have risen a bit, and
the cost of living has increased for various reasons, but Moldova continues to develop. The
salary I receive now is definitely better than what I used to get before."
Moldova, once known as the poorest country in Europe, was filled with sophisticated and
neat young people, as if to show that those times of confusion and hardship were no
longer.
They were somewhat ordinary, but certainly not behind the trends.
The old cars and images of people from the Soviet era that I had seen on the internet long
ago did not appear distinctly here.
Perhaps my expectations were too excessive. I had
never lived in that era anyway.
"One of the advantages of this place is the cheap and high-quality wine and beer. Since
today is a festival, I'll buy my favorite ones, so have a glass."
While enjoying the festival with that friend and talking about various things, I asked about
special places in Chisinau, and after seeming to think a bit, the friend recommended one
place.
"Actually, there aren't many places worth visiting to stay here for a long time... Try going to
the flea market next to the train station."
A cold day in Chișinău, where locals gather near small shops under leafless trees and grey skies
Bright fabrics and thrift finds fill the stalls of Chișinău’s open-air clothing market.
I've forgotten the exact name, but there was a street flea market around the train station.
From used clothes to various household items being displayed, what was impressive was...
dirty phone cases and chargers that looked like someone had picked them up from a
garbage dump were also being sold there.
Moldovans didn't particularly take pride in such places, and perhaps they might be aspects
they wanted to hide.
"There wasn't really a need to go there... Contact me if you need anything. I'll take you to
Portmall (one of the largest hypermarkets in Moldova). There are many good and cheap
items there (at Portmall), so don't take unnecessary risks. The place you went to has many
poor people."
A gritty outdoor market in Chișinău, where simple stalls line a rocky path beneath looming urban towers.
Under shaded canopies, Chișinău’s market breathes with the raw rhythm of daily trade on muddy paths.
In Chișinău, daily life and industry meet as fabrics sway above still trains in the city’s rugged quarters.
Following the street flea market that extended to the train station, I noticed what looked like
a traditional market beyond the station and decided to check it out.
This place also seemed
to sell clothes and everyday items, with numerous clothing items and shoes sleeping under
plastic covers, but unfortunately, it was a day off.
With autumn approaching, the weather was getting chillier, and it was time to get some
warm, long clothes.
At one of the only open shops, when I picked a slightly worn white t
shirt, a young couple talked to each other and then quoted about 500 lei "$35" - I tried to
negotiate the price, but it didn't work, so I turned away.
I thought it would be better to wait for winter clothes to be sent from home rather than
buying clothes at such expensive prices here.
As the sun sets over Chișinău, light spills across the ruins of a forgotten structure and the city’s hopeful slogan.
On the way back to my accommodation, a pamphlet on an abandoned old building with no
people around caught my eye.
"Moldova continues to develop, but people here want to leave for somewhere in Europe. I've
been dreaming of it too."
"We know that finding better opportunities is the better choice. That's why many people
have already left this place. I was also in Germany and France for a while. We can go
anywhere in Europe after all."
In Chișinău, job ads promise Moldovans stable wages abroad—from 1200€ in Austria to 2400€ in Israel.
Moldovan can be called Romanian as there are almost no differences, but there are very
slight variations.
Just as people from different regions in Korea with their own dialects can
converse without problems, there isn't much difference.
Moreover, people don't particularly
emphasize calling it Moldovan, and most refer to it as Romanian.
Despite the banner proclaiming love for Chisinau, one or two overseas employment
billboards could be seen in crowded street areas.
Having nothing particular to do in the afternoon, I visited a shooting range I had just learned
about, where various automatic rifles were on display.
"Have you ever shot a gun before?"
"I was in the military."
"Good. Anyway, you have to pay for the bullets, the practice range rental fee, and the
instructor guidance fee. Adding all those prices together, it comes to this."
Spending $35-42 on shooting once seemed a bit wasteful, but thinking when I would ever
get to shoot an AK series again, I chose the Saiga(?) 9mm machine gun and AK-103 that I
had used in Tarkov.
"When I instruct you to fire, pull the trigger. It will likely all be discharged in an instant. Don't
be surprised or tense up. Focus well on the rear and front sights."
Firearms Usage Fee Guide (1 lei - $0.056)
A glimpse into a Chișinău gun shop, where modern rifles sit under secure glass
Trying out live fire at a Moldovan shooting range with an AK-type rifle.
Burst firing at the shooting range (burst scene seems to be cut off, probably due to frame
rate). I achieved burst firing here, which I couldn't experience at the training center in korean
army😂
Night View of Chisinau
The people here loved wine and beer.
Every evening, people would gather at the entrance of
the apartment where I was staying, pouring wine and beer while engaging in lively
conversations, and they would only disappear one by one when it was time to sleep late at
night.
Although I wasn't particularly fond of alcohol, neighbors would offer me wine and beer
every time I went out or returned, and if I refused, they wouldn't let me in (of course, if I
seriously declined again, they would let me pass).
"Since you've come to Moldova, you should enjoy beer and wine. Every day, here with us."
"My grandmother is Ukrainian and my grandfather is Russian. We all understand Russian
(or Ukrainian too) and Moldovan (Romanian)."
I could see them speaking Moldovan with some people and Russian with others, and I felt
envious of their ability to speak several foreign languages like native tongues.
"But English is the best here. If you know English, you can get a job. Come and work here."
"Here we don't care about being Russian or Ukrainian or that nonsense, we all grew up here
and we're all friends."
Neon lines light up Chișinău’s Port Mall in a scene of modern nightlife.
The neighbors loved alcohol very much, but none of them caused trouble.
Occasionally,
they would call each other by funny nicknames and make jokes, and they lived so closely
together that all the apartment neighbors seemed like members of one extended family.
Of course, not all apartments were like that, but that was how it was in the apartment
where I stayed the longest.
Storage shed of a rural farm
Curious about the real countryside of Moldova? Come with me now if you have time. I'm
heading to my wife's parents' home.
The people of this village were raising pigs and chickens.
His wife's parents' home, located about 1 hour and 30 minutes away, to which I was led by
my neighbor, was the countryside itself.
They maintained their livelihood by raising
chickens, pigs, and dairy cows, and in the shaded area outside their house, bottles for
storing hand-squeezed milk were set up.
"I did the interior design for this house. That's why heat comes from the walls. So the
children (relatives) who stay here during winter don't have to endure the cold."
Five or six children were sitting against the wall connected to the bed in a small room
watching TV.
When I spoke to one child in Russian, they hesitated and looked at the adults.
"These kids don't speak Russian yet."
"Don't they teach Russian in kindergarten?"
"The kindergartens here teach Moldovan (Romanian). They can learn it when they go to
school."
In contrast, another neighbor I later met said that their child would learn Russian when they
went to kindergarten.
"I came from Ukraine. I came here during my student years and married a local. My child
will probably learn Russian in kindergarten (meaning they plan to enroll their child in a
kindergarten that teaches Russian)."
Chisinau bus station. Here, for about $3.50-4.20, you can board a minibus to Transnistria.
"Are you going to Odesa (a Ukrainian city adjacent to Moldova)? Come this way."
"No, I can't go until the war is over. I've been there twice before. Where is the bus to Tiraspol
(the capital of Transnistria)?"
"It just left. First go to the ticket office to buy a ticket, then head to that bus stop over there."
After buying a ticket at the ticket office and waiting for about 10 minutes, the bus to
Tiraspol arrived.
The driver frowned when he saw my two carrier bags and backpack.
"How am I supposed to load other people's luggage after loading yours in this small
vehicle? What on earth are you planning to do with all these?"
"I'm planning to stay for quite a while."
"Then give me an extra 50 lei separately."
"OK"
Upon receiving the money, the driver smiled and loaded all my luggage into the minibus's
cargo compartment.
Entry formalities for Transnistria, where borders come with paperwork even for tourists.
In the second week of October, when the weather had become drier and colder, I headed to
Transnistria, an unrecognized state adjacent to Ukraine. To an unknown country not well
known to people.
Here is some additional information and precautions:
In Moldova, you can buy a SIM card for about $3-10 and use it for communication. The price varies depending on how long you plan to stay. You can purchase and
activate it at a small store next to the bus station, but if you need assistance from
staff, use a mobile phone store or a mart near the terminal.
The cost of living was quite affordable, but I thought imported items were a bit
expensive. I lost my charger and bought a 4-port charger there, which was more
expensive than in Korea.
Restaurants here serve beef, but not many regular butcher shops carried it. I was able
to find a place selling beef only after visiting four different markets.
You can buy bus tickets from here to Odesa, Ukraine, but as of 2024, most foreigners
will likely be unable to enter. The country is still at war.
There are Japanese and Korean restaurants here, but the Korean food doesn't taste
like authentic Korean food. However, restaurants serving cuisines from other
countries exist, and their quality was decent.
Transportation costs are quite affordable. You can travel around most of Chisinau by
taxi for about $5-8. However, taxis waiting at bus stations tend to charge very high
prices. I installed and used the Volt taxi app.
댓글
댓글 쓰기