Moldova > Gagauzia

Today we cross the border into Moldova. The car's navigation system selected a different route than we expected. This means that just a few kilometers outside Galati, we are already approaching the border post. Where are we going? And how long will we stay in Chisinau? The rear of the car must be opened, but it only gets a glance. This is unlike the Romanian and Moldovan cars, where all luggage is checked for fruit, cheese, and cold cuts. A few dozen meters further, the same ritual on the Moldovan side. At the passport control, we are first directed to a booth for a vignette tax. Then the police walk along to the car to check its contents. Again, it only gets a bored look. All car details are recorded. Finally, we get a stamp at customs. We may enter Moldova. Strangely, after two kilometers, we approach another checkpoint. We drive to the lane for passenger cars. What could they be checking here? We’ve already been through everything. It turns out to be customs again. The man asks where we are going. When we say Chisinau, he says this is the border with Ukraine. We have to turn around. Is he joking? It really is the border with Ukraine. The officer points to the green letters on the building, which probably say "Ukraine" in Russian. We apparently missed the turn between the two border posts. We could also go through Ukraine this way, but then we would have to cross the Moldovan border several times. That would take too long. We turn around and finally choose the route toward Moldova. In southern Moldova, we enter the autonomous region of Gagauzia. Officially, Gagauzia belongs to Moldova but has its own administration. The roads are significantly worse in this area. The asphalt laid here years ago is worn. Some sections have repairs, making the road a bumpy patchwork. In other places, the asphalt has completely disappeared, and we drive over gravel and sand. Even the trucks crawl along these roads at a snail’s pace. When we get onto the M3 highway, the road is formed by worn concrete slabs. Along the way, there are large fields of sunflowers on the rolling hills.

Moldova - Comrat the capital of Gagauzia

I don’t think I have ever seen so many sunflowers together. We also see the first vineyards appearing. Moldova is known for its wine production. About fifty kilometers before Comrat, the capital of the autonomous region of Gagauzia, the M3 highway improves significantly. Without too many potholes, we drive the last stretch to the city. We park near the central park. It is not entirely clear if we may park here without paying. We decide to take the risk. We exchange euros for Moldovan lei. The smallest note of one leu is worth less than five cents. And there is also coinage. With local money in hand, we enter a restaurant. Fortunately, the menu has pictures, because we cannot make sense of the Moldovan characters. With some gestures, we manage to order food and drinks. Actually, so far, it has been quite easy everywhere to order dishes. In the middle of the park stands the strikingly yellow Saint John Baptist Cathedral. The church, with its beautiful icons inside, dates from 1820. We do not see the Comrat monument in the square. Two older men on a bench explain in Russian that it is a few blocks further. The monument is for the war victims of World War II. From Comrat, it is still about a hundred kilometers to the Moldovan capital, Chisinau. We stop briefly along the road when we pass a large Gagauzia sign. Many people wave at our car along the way. They are looking for a taxi. Taxis in Moldova have yellow license plates. Regular cars have white plates. Because of our yellow Dutch plates, many people on the side of the road think we are a taxi.

Moldova - A church in the center of the Moldovan capital

A very stylish one, mind you. Unfortunately for them, there is no room in our car. Around half past three, we enter the capital. The hotel is near the center. At first, we cannot find the address. The hotel turns out to be right at a large roundabout. We enter the parking lot. We have a room on the twelfth floor. We can park Brutus behind the hotel in a secured area. The hotel looks faded. The concrete seems somewhat damaged, and the woodwork needs a fresh coat of paint. A typical communist hotel. From the twelfth floor, we look out over the city. In the evening, we walk to Stefan cel Mare Boulevard, the heart of the city. In principle, the hotel is close to the start of the boulevard, but the boulevard is kilometers long. On one of the terraces, we order a beer. Near the parliament building, halfway along the boulevard, we settle in the park at a terrace for dinner. A cozy, trendy restaurant.