No prospects

It looks like Moldovans hardly ever go out to eat. No wonder, given their low income. We were told that a teacher earns between 300 and 400 lei (18 to 25 euros) a month. One doctor approx. 1000,- Lei (62,- Euro) per month. A truck driver working for a private company, on the other hand, can earn between 2000 and 3000 lei. (125,- and 187,- Euro). This is the reason why around 1.5 million of the almost 4.6 million inhabitants work legally and often illegally abroad. Restaurants are apparently not profitable in this country because the population cannot spend money on them. There are many bars and pubs, however. When Moldovans go out, it’s to have a drink. This is a real challenge for us, because after a hard day on the bike we would like to go out for a meal. Of course we are able to buy something at the market or a store and cook, but when we stay in a hotel room it is not always easy. Sometimes there is even no shower to set up our stove. The supplies we have brought with us are also very limited. We can only consume our Rapunzel products and the freeze-dried ready meals from Travellunch when there is nothing else available.

In the town of Comrat we found a pizzeria that had a menu with several pages. Unfortunately, we only had pizza. All the other dishes, including salad, were simply not available. So we were forced to eat pizza every night until my overworked stomach started to whimper last night and caused insomnia.

Because of the merciless summer in this country, we actually wanted to get up at five o’clock today. The only way to cover a few kilometers before the big monkey heat. But the indigestible pizza kept me pressed into the mattress until six o’clock. After a full two hours’ sleep, we are on our saddles at 7:30 a.m. and leave the small town behind us. At eight o’clock, the thermometer is already showing 30 degrees in the shade. Once again, the route takes us over the detested earth ripples that undulate endlessly and en masse through Moldova. Nevertheless, we are making good progress. Tanja’s knee is no longer causing any problems. The road is as bad as ever, so bad that we can only bump down some of the hills at walking pace. As in previous days, we pass a seemingly endless array of walnut trees. We have been told that the trees are supposed to have a positive effect in counteracting the radiation released after the Chernobyl nuclear power plant accident in Ukraine on April 26, 1986. The walnut trees allegedly release iodine-containing elements into the environment, which in turn relieves the radioactively polluted environment. However. Nuts are expensive. They don’t even have the chance to fall to the ground, because they are allowed to be harvested by the population. After three hours we reach the next larger town, Cimislia. Like an eagle that has just spotted its prey, we swoop down from a height of 205 meters into the settlement, which is boiling with heat. As the next town is 60 kilometers away and we don’t want to wear ourselves out in these temperatures, we ask for accommodation here. People shrug their shoulders. Suddenly a whistle trills. A road policeman waves us over with a stern gesture. “Is there a hotel?” I ask kindly. “Turn down the road and then left again,” we understand. We follow the instructions and clatter over a strip of asphalt that consists only of fragments. We walk past completely run-down houses that have been worn down by time. A truck driver overtakes us and waves for us to follow him. “The hotel is over there,” he says a few hundred meters further on and points to the other side of the street. “How does he know we’re looking for a hotel?” Tanja wants to know. “No idea,” I shake my head. The man gets out of the cab and crosses the road with us. It turns out to be his hotel. The only one in town. There are four rooms in total. “40 euros,” I hear when I ask for the price. A proud price when you consider that a teacher has to work a full two months for this. The room is clean and relatively newly furnished. I try to bargain and then get a small single room for 20 euros, i.e. 320 lei. We are allowed to lock our bikes in a shed behind the house. The laundry is hung up there to dry. “Unbelievable, they even have to lock up their laundry here,” says Tanja.

As it is 31 degrees in the room and far too small to stay in, we leave the house. As soon as we are on the deserted road, we are met by at least 41 degrees in the shade. We desperately look for a cool place to spend the afternoon. We drag ourselves through the seemingly extinct nest. “My God. The people who live here really have no prospects in life,” says Tanja. “Yes, I’m glad to have been born in Germany. You can really die in a desolate place like this. There’s nothing to pass the time. No swimming pool, no cinema, no ice cream parlor, no restaurant where you can buy something decent to eat and most likely no work. It really is a hopeless situation for the residents,” I reply, wiping the sweat from my brow. “I wonder how long this hot spell will last?” Tanja changes the subject. “Who’s to know. It’s supposed to be an exceptionally hot summer. Hotter than normal. But that doesn’t help us now. We need some shade and something to drink urgently,” I blubber, almost boiling from the eternal heat. Then we find an ugly building on which a sign with the promising letters “Restaurant” beckons. It is actually more pleasant inside, or at least much more pleasant than outside. I point to the refrigerator, which is rattling away, and a lemonade beckons from behind the glass. “I’ll have the tonic water next to it!” exclaims Tanja. Then the waitress places the two bottles on the table. “Phew, that swill is sweet,” I shake myself. “Especially full of alcohol.” “What? Alcohol?” I ask in horror and read on the label that this nasty stuff actually contains 5.5 percent alcohol. Exactly what we don’t need in these temperatures. It takes us a while to organize normal water.

Two hours later, we are still sitting in the pub. Loud music is now pounding out of two loudspeakers. A few young residents have arrived. They drink their beer or suck on a Coke. The only change here for a long time seems to be us. The guests’ eyes are lost in our direction more often than normal. In the meantime, we have found out that fries, meatballs and tomatoes are on offer. The salad consists of a single sliced tomato with a few onion rings. I order three of them at once. The chips and meatballs also disappear down my throat. Taste without comment. At a total price of around 3 euros, you can’t complain. It’s dusk as we shuffle to our accommodation in temperatures of around 32 degrees. As the iron bars outside our window prevent any thieves from entering, we can take the liberty of opening it at night. Although it barely cools down, we fall into a sleep of exhaustion.

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