Moldova

We visit Chisinau, Moldova – one of Europe’s most obscure and cheapest capital cities.

There is an enormous army tank on the dancefloor. Peering out of the gun porthole is a manic-looking DJ whose decks are hidden inside. To his left is a pile of sandbags and a hammer-and-sickle USSR flag. Hanging from the ceiling is a giant portrait of Lenin. Taking all this in is hard for a first-time visitor. Uniformly sultry and beautiful Moldovan women pack the dancefloor and around the room more svelte women and their companions down the local speciality of three different schnapps in one glass.

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Then the increasing sense of the surreal gives way to outright lunacy as the dancefloor of the Chisinau ‘Military Pub’, packed on the early hours of a Tuesday morning in the middle of winter, grinds to a halt. The barman is vigourously ringing his bell. The lights dim as the bell rings louder and grimaces give way to cheers as the imbibers bounce off the bar counter and back on the dancefloor to a collective cheer. My local boozer in Stockwell suddenly seems like a drinking emporium from a different and vastly more boring planet.

Moldova’s reputation – what little is known by the outside world – is hardly glittering. This tiny sliver of a nation, sandwiched in between Romania and the Ukraine, is often cited as the poorest in Europe. Problems concerning two break-away regions (one of which, Trans-Dniester, has created its own currency, flag and parliament), a chronically high level of unemployment and an average monthly salary of under £100 help to explain why barely 20,000 visitors arrive at Chisinau airport each year. However, the grisly stories tucked away in the corners of international news sections are utterly at odds with the wide boulevards, gorgeous Orthodox churches, thriving markets and roaring nightlife that is on offer if you dare take a peek into this forgotten corner of Europe.

Prices, as you would expect, are quite hysterically cheap and more than make up for the relatively expensive cost of reaching Moldova. Take a random stroll around the enormous outdoor market in central Chisinau and you will encounter legions of women wrapped up in scarves and fur hats, selling everything from Moldovan vodka (50p for a half-litre bottle), homemade hot dogs and burgers (12p each) and mountains of cigarettes (7p a packet), underwear, fish and chicken. The monumental, distinctly Soviet buildings of the Presidential Palace and the Opera and Ballet House lie only minutes away, but the numerous money-changing outlets and immaculately dressed locals clutching Benetton bags are a reminder that these people have long harboured Western aspirations, despite the repressive regime.

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