(Picture: Lenin Street, Bendery – Transnistria)

Some time ago, I booked a plane ticket to a country named the Republic of Moldova. When I informed those asking about my travel destination, many of them were puzzled to find out that a country with this name exists, and little did really know where to situate the relevant country on the world map (to which my answer that there is a country in between Romania and Ukraine was often welcomed with wonder).

End of the geography lecture? Not really. To my own amazement I found out that in between Moldova (you know, that country in between Romania and Ukraine) and Ukraine proper, the region of Transnistria declared independence from Moldova. However not recognized by any country in the world, they do have border controls (and how), an own currency, a president appearing on photoshopped billboards reading Transnistria – Abchazia – brothers in the struggle for existence, and a protocommunist political regime.

Walking around the streets of Tiraspol (the capital) actually feels like travelling back to the USSR of the 1990′s. And getting on the bus back to Chisinau, Moldova in order to pass the border crossing before 22:34 (the time by which I was ordered by the authorities to leave the territory) felt slightly surreal.  As Lonely Planet would say, travelling in this region is “as rewarding as it is challenging”.

USA finances in crisis, Greece bankrupt, independence in South Soudan, a never-seen-before political impasse in Belgium.

Nothing of the kind as yours truly reports from Soroca,Moldova. In this small city on the Nistru river bank, in the twilight zone between Moldova and Ukraine, Sunday afternoon seems to be mainly spent fishing on the artificial beach, reading Bulhakov in the long summer grass, eating icecream from the alimentara shop on the town hall square and overlooking the land from the towers of the Soroca Citadel.

Time stands still here. No reminders of the globalizing world around. Even the border crossing (a floating platform between the two river banks) doesn’t operate today. Europe as I never saw it before.

(Picture: view on Ukraine from a Soroca Citadel watchtower)

Friday morning 4 AM. I hang about two meter above a railway track on the border between Romania and Moldova. The Bucuresti – Chisinau rapid overnight train is changing wheels to continue its trip. Why? Well, due to the geopolitical past, Romanian and Moldovan railway tracks ended up having different width.

I am asked (ordered rather) to stay in the sleeping carriage, not to walk down the corridor, and on no account to look out of the windows (hence the horrible picture quality). What happens here, at this ungodly hour in this off the beaten track place on the border between two of Europe’s most intriguing counties, will always remain a secret to me. But I tried to reveal it at least.

Visiting the Museum of the Romanian Peasant. It sounds a bit like the thing someone only would consider on a rainsoaked Sunday afternoon, provided all laundry is done, there is no Tour de France on tv and the political analysis section in the weekend newspaper is completely digested.

But as Lonely Planet lists it among the five highlights of Romania’s capital city (with the legendary words This museum is so good you may want to hug it) and even a friend who knows my apathy for dusty Cultural Institutions highly recommended me a visit to the Museum, I decided to put the newspaper aside and to leave the Tour de France for the evening news.

And yes, it is without any doubt the cutest museum I have ever seen. Homemade catalogues of cardboard and personally coloured xerox copies, handwritten descriptions on the white walls (first a draft in black pencil, overdrawn with slightly thicker red pencil), a village classroom – ‘Saturdays only’ if my knowledge of the Romanian language doesn’t betray me – and hundreds of traditional tools, costumes and religious parafernalia. Even the shop doesn’t escape the sweetness: fairy tale books printed on handmade paper and 40 year old yellowish postcards make up the majority of the relics on sale.

The international Agricultural History Museum scene has a new supporter.

From the small touchscreen of my new smartphone (a thing I somehow never wanted to purchase because probably I would be searching dorm wireless internet connections wherever I am), after all: my first out-of-the-house post.

Location: a garden terrace just off Calea Victoriei in Bucharest, old Charlie Parker tunes and coffee under the shadow of a century-old tree, 50 meters from the balcony where Ceausescu gave his last public speech.

He – “So, the street you live in… I heard there are a lot of illegal people living there. You know, I do not like illegal people – they abuse our social system.”

Well then.

We are waiting for a bus together. Ignoring him is not really an option. We proceed to some small talk. When I tell him I’m working in a restaurant every once in a while he asks:

“Ah, I am actually looking for a job… Is there any possibility to work unregistered at that restaurant? I mean, without paying taxes and all that?”

Recently I took a little NY trip to the city of Rome. When I was slightly fed up with the Spanish Steps, the Trevi fountain and the Pantheon, I took a metro for some good old suburban sightseeing. And this is what I found: EUR (Esposizione Universale di Roma), 4th of January 2011, 3:14PM. Coffee: just as good - only half the price. And no tourists (at all).