I’m boarding on Air Moldova flight 746, bound for Chisinau from Istanbul. This drifting, nomadic lifestyle often times does not have a set aim or fixed direction. In retrospect, even a week ago I while parting Bucharest, I only flirted with the notion of venturing to Moldova…or, even further into Ukraine (given the current geopolitical situation). Yet, some how, all paths have lead to this: seated on 27A, window-side heading over the Black Sea.
Some one lounging at the hostel courtyard asked me this morning where I was heading. Upon being informed of “Moldova”, he logically followed with: “Why?”; to which I had no better answer than: “Because I’ve not been there, and it would be interesting.” considering I knew next to nothing about the region and country other than its historical association with Romania. He then proceeded to inform me that he had read an index of “saddest” countries — Moldova topped the list. Perhaps I’ve seen too much to know that hearsay rumors about countries and cultures are largely unreliable, or perhaps I’m glutton for melancholy; but, his comment barely registers in my mind. I only replied that I didn’t expect much from Air Moldova, and would be happy if they didn’t misdirect my luggage. However, boarding the plane itself, the first observation was that there was a pungent smell of…armpit…shall we say. On that note, let the adventure commence.