Where are we and why are we here?
The day began badly.
It was the recollection that thirty years ago I contracted hepatitis. You never know exactly which day it is when such an event happens because the gestation period is only about three weeks. However, I do recall this rather this rather nice restaurant in Lima with cerviche at about the right time, but how come my bitch of a girlfriend didn't get it? What reminded me of it was Bart banging about how shit Brian Adams and Rod Stewart are in this Sports Club in Bucharest when Supertramp came on. For those of you with a decent memory and enough vintage will recall that Supertramp's hey-day was thirty years ago when I used to listen to them a lot.
Actually the day had begun a lot earlier really badly.
If getting up at 5 a.m. isn't bad enough how about being in a Wetherspoon's pub having your first pint of beer at 6.50 a.m. Bart had had a sneaky free whisky whilst I was reconstructing myself after going through the Genome sequencing machine or whatever it is that you now have to do when the beeper goes off at security when you have left a key in your pocket,
We had time to kill in Bucharest. We had a nice walk by the arrow-straight motorway, with huge American style adverts alongside, to the Water Park. Naturally, we were not going to pay a fiver each to get in to this venue for 1 ½ hours – we doubted that the quality of lusting was worth it. So we go to the health club which sold beer, tobacco and not much else. The nearest we got to sampling Roumanian food was to eat some manky cheese and chutney sandwich that Bart had made last week. We did then manage to find a decent bar with cheap beer, no MTV but lots of (well two) seventies fruit machines with men who all smoked and no women, obviously, before returning to the airport to go to our real destination - Chisinau.
Any the wiser? Well the plan was that we would have a fortnight roller-blading round Moldova. Of course you know where Moldova is. Well I will save you from having to admit your ignorance - it is a little country between Ukraine and Roumania that declared its independence when the Soviet Union fell apart. And you have never heard of it unless you have read Tony Hawkes book about playing the Moldovan football team at tennis. What is odder still is that you do not know about Transnitria - the breakaway strip on the eastern side of the country which is not recognised by any country but has been a de facto separate country since just after Moldovan independence.
Of course Bart has changed the plan and is leaving after four days. Bart normally leaves after four days in the hope of getting his carnal desires satisfied. A better chance this time than last time he did it in Paris unless CC1 has read this blog.
We arrived OK and got to our hotel and ventured out to get some food and top up our alcohol levels. The first thing that you notice is the dark - there are no street lights at all except on the main drag and even there the real lighting is provided by the shops - and not many of them are lit up. The next thing we saw 100 metres down the street in an Irish pub - our first sight of Moldovan culture. Our next was wondering if the two ladies in the restaurant were working girls or just dressed slightly provocatively. Frankly I don't remember much more about the evening because we had kept topping up on the alcohol all day.
The next day began badly.
We staggered down for breakfast just before the deadline of 10 but were so overwhelmed that we retired to bed again for an hour and a half. We then had a five hour walk round and the only thing that we had bought in Moldova apart from food and booze was two maps at the outrageous price of six quid between them. This is typical of the pair of us, we don't like spending money except on the necessities of life - travelling and, in Bart's case, coffee or, in mine, beer. But there was not a lot of things to buy - shops seemed to sell food or clothes or flowers; there was no hardware shops or hairdressers, camping or furniture shops, estate agents or petrol stations. Hang on, I am criticising a place for lack of estate agents and petrol stations? Bart likes to get his haircut in every country he visits so the absence of barbers could be regarded as regretable. The chances of finding a rollerblade shop were, indeed, very thin.
Moldova is supposed to be the poorest country in Europe but it doesn't seem particularly poor; most people are smartly or, at least, cleanly dressed, the underpasses don't smell of piss, there are lots of trees in the streets and Tony Hawkes assertion that all the manhole covers have been stolen is not, or is no longer, true - we have only found one revolting hole to fall down because of the absence of such a utilitararian device. There is a smattering of beggars often with conspicuous physical injuries e.g. a man with two genuine wooden legs, or old women in peasant dress who were born some years before me or a bit later and have perfected the poor old peasant look off to a tee.
Moldova must be one of the few countries in the world (except Bhutan, Tuvalu and the Kerguelen Islands maybe) not to have a Tourist Information Office. However, the "Tourist Map of Moldavia" highlights "Objects of Global Importance" so we went to see one of these - it was a park with a pleasant fountain in it. The map also mentions the wine tour which we didn't take - can't think why. We decided not to bother only partially because there were no cars to hire and no trains going at any civilized time and the bus routes are a nightmare.
After another hour and half rest, we ventured out for food. Rather unusually Bart got into the booze - vodka in this case - before we did what we are good at - playing competitive games. In this case bowling in which I would, unusually, normally expect to beat Bart. I signally failed to do so. This was the only other thing that we spent money on except food, booze and travel
The day began badly. Just made in for breakfast and only needed half an hour's rest afterwards before checking out to find the bus to go out for a walk along the river Dneister which is 23 kilometres away. We went to the bus station where we were eventually told to go back to the street we had been staying on! The way proved rather odd, through a seemingly endless market. It was here that brought home some of the similarities to China - endless shops and markets with loads of people wandering around buying not very much and the grouping of shops, it was no coincidence that I mentioned flowers yesterday, we saw loads together but none today, one I noticed particularly today was kids back to school stuff - about fifteen within twenty stalls.
We waited for forty minutes at the bottom of the street for bus no. 31, then fifteen more at the next junction up the road then another ten at yet another junction before I got completely fed up and we retired to the Irish Pub I mentioned two days ago to get my computer out and listen to TMS.
I realise that there are three people in the world who do not know what TMS is so I will explain; Test Match Special is the best programme on the radio where people drivel on for ages about pigeons, cakes, and buses. The diversion is where they have to mention the greatest game on the planet - Test Cricket. England are, allegedly, the best country in the world at cricket but they are currently being challenged for that title by some uppity South Africans who appear to be rather good at the game.
So, after lunch, I booked us into another hotel where we could continue to listen to TMS until 8.30 p.m. Moldovan time. For the ignorant, Test Cricket is the greatest game because it changes so quickly and there were lots of action so we were not diverted.
We have searched for book shops, cinemas, art shops and other signs of culture (we don't do museums) but Moldovan's don't do culture unless you count wide-screen TVs showing MTV. Food options are similarly limited - Andy's Pizzas or Roy's Cafe - we have tried both. Food is fatty and meaty. We haven't seen a single Indian or Chinese restaurant (or any other nationality for that matter) but we did see some kids rollerblading in the park. At least I managed to put the bowling position straight that night.
Oh no, it happened again. The day began badly. So badly that Bart missed breakfast; this is not good news; a coffeeless Bart is a grumpy Bart. I alleviated the position by bringing him one but it was still gone 11 when we staggered out. This time we had got better directions and got the bus successfully to the river Dneister for a few hours walking. It was supposed to be a tourist place because they built an artificial beach twenty years ago but you could have fooled us. We had a pleasant stroll although we had to beat a hasty retreat at one point when we came across a copulating couple: we managed that last year canoeing too. We walked across the bridge to Transnitria but didn't tary when we spotted a man in a camoflage suit and with a big gun. Food was even worse than usual so we beat a retreat to our hotel and back to TMS.
A quiet evening because Bart is leaving on a 6 a.m. flight in the morning. The highlight of Bart's trip was scoring 134 at bowling. The highlight of mine will be following Bart out of Moldova a couple of hours later but going in the opposite direction.
The day began badly.
It was the recollection that thirty years ago I contracted hepatitis. You never know exactly which day it is when such an event happens because the gestation period is only about three weeks. However, I do recall this rather this rather nice restaurant in Lima with cerviche at about the right time, but how come my bitch of a girlfriend didn't get it? What reminded me of it was Bart banging about how shit Brian Adams and Rod Stewart are in this Sports Club in Bucharest when Supertramp came on. For those of you with a decent memory and enough vintage will recall that Supertramp's hey-day was thirty years ago when I used to listen to them a lot.
Actually the day had begun a lot earlier really badly.
If getting up at 5 a.m. isn't bad enough how about being in a Wetherspoon's pub having your first pint of beer at 6.50 a.m. Bart had had a sneaky free whisky whilst I was reconstructing myself after going through the Genome sequencing machine or whatever it is that you now have to do when the beeper goes off at security when you have left a key in your pocket,
We had time to kill in Bucharest. We had a nice walk by the arrow-straight motorway, with huge American style adverts alongside, to the Water Park. Naturally, we were not going to pay a fiver each to get in to this venue for 1 ½ hours – we doubted that the quality of lusting was worth it. So we go to the health club which sold beer, tobacco and not much else. The nearest we got to sampling Roumanian food was to eat some manky cheese and chutney sandwich that Bart had made last week. We did then manage to find a decent bar with cheap beer, no MTV but lots of (well two) seventies fruit machines with men who all smoked and no women, obviously, before returning to the airport to go to our real destination - Chisinau.
Any the wiser? Well the plan was that we would have a fortnight roller-blading round Moldova. Of course you know where Moldova is. Well I will save you from having to admit your ignorance - it is a little country between Ukraine and Roumania that declared its independence when the Soviet Union fell apart. And you have never heard of it unless you have read Tony Hawkes book about playing the Moldovan football team at tennis. What is odder still is that you do not know about Transnitria - the breakaway strip on the eastern side of the country which is not recognised by any country but has been a de facto separate country since just after Moldovan independence.
Of course Bart has changed the plan and is leaving after four days. Bart normally leaves after four days in the hope of getting his carnal desires satisfied. A better chance this time than last time he did it in Paris unless CC1 has read this blog.
We arrived OK and got to our hotel and ventured out to get some food and top up our alcohol levels. The first thing that you notice is the dark - there are no street lights at all except on the main drag and even there the real lighting is provided by the shops - and not many of them are lit up. The next thing we saw 100 metres down the street in an Irish pub - our first sight of Moldovan culture. Our next was wondering if the two ladies in the restaurant were working girls or just dressed slightly provocatively. Frankly I don't remember much more about the evening because we had kept topping up on the alcohol all day.
The next day began badly.
We staggered down for breakfast just before the deadline of 10 but were so overwhelmed that we retired to bed again for an hour and a half. We then had a five hour walk round and the only thing that we had bought in Moldova apart from food and booze was two maps at the outrageous price of six quid between them. This is typical of the pair of us, we don't like spending money except on the necessities of life - travelling and, in Bart's case, coffee or, in mine, beer. But there was not a lot of things to buy - shops seemed to sell food or clothes or flowers; there was no hardware shops or hairdressers, camping or furniture shops, estate agents or petrol stations. Hang on, I am criticising a place for lack of estate agents and petrol stations? Bart likes to get his haircut in every country he visits so the absence of barbers could be regarded as regretable. The chances of finding a rollerblade shop were, indeed, very thin.
Moldova is supposed to be the poorest country in Europe but it doesn't seem particularly poor; most people are smartly or, at least, cleanly dressed, the underpasses don't smell of piss, there are lots of trees in the streets and Tony Hawkes assertion that all the manhole covers have been stolen is not, or is no longer, true - we have only found one revolting hole to fall down because of the absence of such a utilitararian device. There is a smattering of beggars often with conspicuous physical injuries e.g. a man with two genuine wooden legs, or old women in peasant dress who were born some years before me or a bit later and have perfected the poor old peasant look off to a tee.
Moldova must be one of the few countries in the world (except Bhutan, Tuvalu and the Kerguelen Islands maybe) not to have a Tourist Information Office. However, the "Tourist Map of Moldavia" highlights "Objects of Global Importance" so we went to see one of these - it was a park with a pleasant fountain in it. The map also mentions the wine tour which we didn't take - can't think why. We decided not to bother only partially because there were no cars to hire and no trains going at any civilized time and the bus routes are a nightmare.
After another hour and half rest, we ventured out for food. Rather unusually Bart got into the booze - vodka in this case - before we did what we are good at - playing competitive games. In this case bowling in which I would, unusually, normally expect to beat Bart. I signally failed to do so. This was the only other thing that we spent money on except food, booze and travel
The day began badly. Just made in for breakfast and only needed half an hour's rest afterwards before checking out to find the bus to go out for a walk along the river Dneister which is 23 kilometres away. We went to the bus station where we were eventually told to go back to the street we had been staying on! The way proved rather odd, through a seemingly endless market. It was here that brought home some of the similarities to China - endless shops and markets with loads of people wandering around buying not very much and the grouping of shops, it was no coincidence that I mentioned flowers yesterday, we saw loads together but none today, one I noticed particularly today was kids back to school stuff - about fifteen within twenty stalls.
We waited for forty minutes at the bottom of the street for bus no. 31, then fifteen more at the next junction up the road then another ten at yet another junction before I got completely fed up and we retired to the Irish Pub I mentioned two days ago to get my computer out and listen to TMS.
I realise that there are three people in the world who do not know what TMS is so I will explain; Test Match Special is the best programme on the radio where people drivel on for ages about pigeons, cakes, and buses. The diversion is where they have to mention the greatest game on the planet - Test Cricket. England are, allegedly, the best country in the world at cricket but they are currently being challenged for that title by some uppity South Africans who appear to be rather good at the game.
So, after lunch, I booked us into another hotel where we could continue to listen to TMS until 8.30 p.m. Moldovan time. For the ignorant, Test Cricket is the greatest game because it changes so quickly and there were lots of action so we were not diverted.
We have searched for book shops, cinemas, art shops and other signs of culture (we don't do museums) but Moldovan's don't do culture unless you count wide-screen TVs showing MTV. Food options are similarly limited - Andy's Pizzas or Roy's Cafe - we have tried both. Food is fatty and meaty. We haven't seen a single Indian or Chinese restaurant (or any other nationality for that matter) but we did see some kids rollerblading in the park. At least I managed to put the bowling position straight that night.
Oh no, it happened again. The day began badly. So badly that Bart missed breakfast; this is not good news; a coffeeless Bart is a grumpy Bart. I alleviated the position by bringing him one but it was still gone 11 when we staggered out. This time we had got better directions and got the bus successfully to the river Dneister for a few hours walking. It was supposed to be a tourist place because they built an artificial beach twenty years ago but you could have fooled us. We had a pleasant stroll although we had to beat a hasty retreat at one point when we came across a copulating couple: we managed that last year canoeing too. We walked across the bridge to Transnitria but didn't tary when we spotted a man in a camoflage suit and with a big gun. Food was even worse than usual so we beat a retreat to our hotel and back to TMS.
A quiet evening because Bart is leaving on a 6 a.m. flight in the morning. The highlight of Bart's trip was scoring 134 at bowling. The highlight of mine will be following Bart out of Moldova a couple of hours later but going in the opposite direction.
So, not highly recommended as a must see destination then?
ReplyDeleteThe only possible reason to go to Moldova is to say that you have been there.
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