Getting Lost, Found, and... Frank Lampard?! A Roadtrip Across Northern Albania and Kosovo 🇦🇱 🇽🇰

My personal history with Albania

It's fair to say I'm a big fan of Albania - I have written an entire book based on my travels there a few years ago. The people, the food, the culture, the history - the list goes on and on as to why I love it there so much. I've even gone so far as to declare myself the unofficial 'Secretary of State for Albanian Awareness' in my Instagram bio. 

Fred (R) and I somewhere near Himarë in southern Albania on our first trip in 2021. 

Since my first trip to Albania in 2021, I have been two more times. Once with my friends Jack and Stefan in 2023, whom I met in Syria, and the most recent time with Frederico (aka Fred) in January of this year, where we went back to our old stomping grounds in Northern Albania and explored further afield into Kosovo. 

During our first adventure in 2021, Kosovo was closed off from un-Covid tested tourists and so it wasn't as simple to visit. Fred got a fake Covid test and managed to visit Prishtina, but I wasn't able to visit Kosovo until a solo trip in 2023. Kosovo is majority ethnic-Albanian and while it is largely run as its own country (despite not being a UN member state) there are large portions of its population who eventually want to unite with Albania in the long term, once its own independence is fully guaranteed on the international stage. 

When Fred and I first flew into Albania all those years ago, the flight was mostly empty. Apart from us and a few locals, no one was going to Albania. Tirana Airport was one runway and one very small terminal. When we returned in January that had all changed - Tirana and Albania is seemingly becoming an ever more popular destination for western Europe's working class who cannot afford expensive cosmetic surgeries at home. It seems that these surgeries are much cheaper than traditional cosmetic surgery heartlands such as Istanbul. The flight was filled with people who we would never associate with Albania - girls with lips filled to their max, makeup, and fake eye lashes. It seemed Fred and I were the only two rough house backpackers on the flight, I don't even think there were any locals. 

Albania's Hidden Coastal Gem: The Cape of Rodon

We wouldn't be staying in the bright lights of Tirana very long however. We had a pre-booked rental car which we picked up in no time and were soon off to see places new and old. First stop - the town of Fushë Krujë, where George W. Bush had once met the Albanian President on an official visit. I believe part of the love also comes down to him being the first American President to ever visit the country. This town is practically dedicated to George Bush with a themed bakery, cafe, and burektore (burek shop). There was even a statue of the man! Revered here in Albania, largely disliked in the rest of the world. Nevertheless, it was a unique quirk of Albania to have a place like this, and part of the reason why we liked it so much. A quick espresso (the drink of choice in these parts) and a burek was all the fuel we needed to continue our journey northward. 

A coffee under the watchful gaze of George W. Bush in Fushe-Krujë.

The George W. Bush Bakery offers the best bureks in town.

Next up was the Rodon Peninsula, a true hidden gem on Albania's coast line. It was a fair drive up steep mountain roads and, although there had been an attempt to grow tourism here, it was evident that this had clearly failed. Nevertheless, it was absolutely worth the journey. At the tip of the Cape of Rodon Peninsula stands the Church of St. Anthony, which dates back to 15th century, although it was rebuilt after a large earthquake in 1852. As you look back at mainland Albania from one of the half-destroyed jetties that pokes out into the Adriatic Sea, you see the incredible snow-capped mountains that make up Northern Albania's rugged heartlands and which became mine and Fred's favourite place. There's not many places in the world with this kind of view - I've seen it on documentaries about Canada and Alaska perhaps, but right here in the heart of Europe? I never could have imagined. 

At the tip of Cape Rodon it's possible to stand on the white sand beaches and look back at the snow-capped Albanian Alps. Breathtaking. 

We can't gawk at the views for long though as we have to return back through the peninsula, back onto the mainland, and continue our journey northwards to Shkoder, the town Fred and I spent a week in back in 2021. It was there that we mastered a few Albanian phrases and really began to fall in love with Albania.

Church of St. Anthony on the Rodon Peninsula

Re-living old memories in Shkoder

After checking into our hotel, our first port of call was 'manic roundabout', a place that became a thing of folklore on our original trip. We stayed in an AirBnB above manic roundabout all those years ago where we observed the lawlessness and carelessness of the Albanian road network. It was a roundabout where give-way rules were optional - every man, bike, and car for themselves. We watched as cars would park in the middle of a moving roundabout, simply leaving the hazard lights on to indicate to other roundabout-users that they would be back in a jiffy. Upon our reunion with the legendary roundabout however we were disappointed to find that it had been modernised with traffic lights, zebra crossings, and suitable parking nearby. 

What had happened? Why the modernisation? The lack of health and safety protocols were exactly what made Albania the beautiful place it was! Perhaps all the increased government tax revenue from working class westerners who had come over for their cosmetic treatments and surgeries was really being reinvested back into the communities instead of ending up in some regional mayor's pockets. 

But it's not the road network or health and safety measures that make a place - it's the people. After the disappointment of the roundabout, we returned to our favourite restaurant, cafe, and burektores in search for those same experiences we once had. The people who worked in the places had changed, but the institutions they worked in and the products they served remained the same - this was great to see. Despite Shkoder being only the 6th most populous town in all of Albania, it was the main population centre in the north and the gateway to the Albanian Alps and, as such, meant that the tourists who come here are rugged adventure seekers, our kind of people. It had yet to be transformed into the cosmetic surgery hub that Tirana was slowly becoming. 

The Albanian Alps are a perfect destination for backpackers who love to travel 'off-the-beaten-path'. Here I am sat on a rock, surrounded by snow on the Valbonë-Theth trail in June 2021, where I developed my love for Northern Albania.

Restaurant service is slow in these parts, once your order is taken you have to grab the attention of a waiter to be served again or get your bill. That's just the way the culture is here. So if you expect 5 star treatment here, think again. But if you want a fairly uninterrupted lunch where there's no pressure or hurry to move on, then Albania is the place for you. You could sit in a cafe for hours nursing one or two coffees and there'd be no pressure for you to leave. 

Shkoder still had the unique charm that we came to love. Yes, parts of it had modernised since we'd last been here but that's not unique to Albania, that will happen with every place you visit. We walked around the city till late in the evening, enjoying coffees in any place that would have us before returning to our hotel before another long day of travelling. 

Going back in time in Kosovo

The next day we awoke bright and early to continue heading north-easterly, towards Kosovo, which we can safely say is an extension of Northern Albania. In Kosovo they speak the Gheg dialect of Albanian, which is also spoken in Northern Albania. As mentioned earlier, the people and culture of Kosovo are Albanian with a long term view to return to the Motherland. 

Our first stop before crossing the border would be Kukës however, in Albania's north-eastern corner. It was a grey-skied day and as such Kukës came across as very drab to us, especially after visiting the Rodon Peninsula and historical Shkoder. The E851 road to Kukes is of incredible quality and some research confirms my suspicions that this road was, at least in part, funded by Americans looking to boost "cultural and touristic" ties between Albania and Kosovo. Although I have my suspicions the road makes for easy access between Albania (a NATO member) and Kosovo (one of the few places where NATO has engaged in active conflict) for the movement of military personnel and equipment. 

Kukës was dull but unique and it's easy to see why the stereotype of Kukës Albanians is those who end up emigrating. Next up was Prizren, another fantastic historical city in southern Kosovo. Fred and I illegally parked somewhere in Albanian fashion and climbed to Prizren Fortress in icy conditions, a good 93 metres of elevation gain on what is usually only a 650 metre walk. Bear in mind this was all done with no oxygen, no sherpa, just the spirit of the Albanian double-headed eagle urging us on. Kosovo is one of the few places where Brits are looked on favourably after we helped the KLA (Kosovo Liberation Army) defeat the Serbs during the Kosovo War of the 1990s and as such we were greeted warmly and with a big smile from the security guard on top. We were also one of the first countries to recognise Kosovo's independence in 2008 just one day after they declared it. 

Prizren Fortress at the top of the hill with the Old Stone Bridge in the foreground.

Following the climb we enjoyed a succulent Kosovar meal at a relatively upscale restaurant where the challenge was to spend €20 (after crossing the border the currency switched from Albanian Lek to Euros, despite Kosovo not being part of the EU/Eurozone). Despite ordering drinks, starters, mains, and sides the total for both Fred and I still came up short. Kosovo really does represent good value for money all things considered.

Playing pool in Gjakovë

We returned back to the car to find it had not been towed, ticketed, or keyed and as such continued our journey unscathed towards Gjakovë, a smaller city where we would be staying the night. It's a fantastic little city centred on, once again, a historical bazaar and stone-tiled old town. We didn't have a lot of time in Gjakovë apart from a few hours in the evening. It's a small city and during the week there wasn't a lot going on, so Fred and I headed into town and enjoyed a bar hop which culminated in visiting an underground pool hall. It was like stepping back in time 30 years or more as the town's youth transcended to play pool on this frosty January weekday night. Kids as young as 11 and 12 years old were playing pool, smoking unfiltered cigarettes, and drinking pints of lager. We couldn't quite believe it, but hey - this was Kosovo, we weren't in the European Union anymore with its crafty health and safety regulations and underage smoking laws. 

Albanians run on espresso. As they say, when in Rome...

The next morning, after an espresso in a cafe that was blaring drum and bass rave music, we continued northward, hoping to reach parts of Kosovo that were less "Albanian" and more contentious. We would be staying the night in the northern half of Mitrovicë, the Serb majority part of that divided city, but more on that later. From Gjakovë we headed to Pejë, where the Serbian Orthodox Peč Monastery is located, a World Heritage site. Once again, given the time of year and its location, we were the only tourists in this incredible place. Various murals marked the walls which Fred and I gawked at. The monks who came and went gave us some serious side eye, probably wondering what these two bumbling Brits were doing there. 

The murals of Pejë/Peč Serbian Orthodox monastery, a UNESCO World Heritage site.

Frank Lampard and the elderly hitchhiker

Once we had spent enough time irritating Serbian Orthodox monks, we continued our journey towards Mitrovicë in a haste given we were pressed for time. We still had to get to the city, explore, spend the night, and get back to Tirana for our flight in a day and a halfs time. Up until now, although there had been a few highlights on our journey so far, nothing had stood out as "the moment" so far. That was until we decided to pick up an elderly hitchhiker in the village of Rakosh...

Fred and I were indebted to the Albanians who had been a part of our amazing journey back in 2021. Be it the people who picked us up when we were hitchhiking or the ones who bought us a coffee as we attempted to cross the country on foot. The warmth and generosity of the Albanians really made our trip so special. We made an agreement when we picked up our rental car that we would pick up any hitchhiker we came across. Until Rakosh, we simply had not found any suitable hitchhikers (we had seen a few, although they had been in bad spots to pick up or otherwise looked a bit 'rough'). 

This elderly gentleman came into view on a straight stretch of road as we were going up hill - we had plenty of time to see him, it was easy to stop, and he was clearly waving us down. The first problem arose after we stopped the car and got him in - he didn't speak a word of English and our Albanian, as much as I brag that I know a few phrases, really didn't get us far with this village elder. It turns out "hello", "how are you, good?", "how much is it?", and "where is the toilet?" really didn't turn out to be much use when trying to find out where the man was going. We established through hand gestures and Google Maps that he might have been going to Runik, a village up the road, however when we tried to drop him off there he refused to get out of the car. 

We continued on towards Mitrovicë, thinking that at some stage he would ask us to pull over to let him out. I knew we had gone too far when we reached a roundabout which was also a crossroads, one road to Mitrovicë and the other towards the town of Skenderaj. Fred and I tried multiple times to indicate to the elderly gentleman that we were going to Mitrovicë who remained none the wiser. Eventually we managed to hear him utter the words "autobus stacioni Skenderaj" (I don't think it takes a linguistic expert to make out that this means 'Skenderaj Bus Station'). Alas we headed there and once again, upon arrival, our elderly friend refused to get out. By this point he began to get more and more agitated and we were stumped as to what to do with our new friend. Fred was tasked to get some help. 

Fred got out of the car and approached the first man he saw, unsure if he was staff or a bus passenger, but at this stage it didn't really matter, we needed any help we could get.

"Do you speak English?" Fred asked.

"Mmm yes." The man responded, almost Borat reincarnate. He started to gesture the word for 'little'.

"A little?" Fred confirmed.

"Yes!" The man responded enthusiastically, as if the word was on the tip of his tongue and not due to the fact that he actually could not speak English. 

Fred used his charm and explained the situation in as basic English as possible for the man who agreed to help us (although I'm not sure he even knew what he was agreeing to). At this point, there was a verbal exchange in Albanian before our new friend dragged the elderly man out of the car and told him to catch a bus! Our new friend's attention turned to Fred and I. What happened next was so bizarre I simply could not make it up if I tried. 

Frank Lampard has a fan club in Skenderaj, Kosovo. Credit: Bloomberg

After finding out we were English, he pulled up multiple saved pictures of Frank Lampard, both as player and manager, and showed them to us before proudly saying the words "Frenk Lemperdi, Frenk Lemperdi!" We gave him a thumbs up and said "yes, great player!" which only encouraged him more. At one point he showed me a photo of Frank Lampard, pulled his phone back to search for another photo, then showed me the exact same photo again! When it wasn't Frank Lampard he was obsessing over, he showed us a friend of his supposedly in the French army. When I stated his friend was "very big, very strong", our friend got very excited and said "YES, BIG STRONG." All the while our elderly hitchhiking friend stood staring into the distance, not knowing who or where he was.

With our elderly, dementia-riddled friend now safely (we kidded ourselves) in the hands of Skenderaj's Frank Lampard Fan Club President, we swiftly rejected his offer for a coffee under the premise we had urgent business to attend to in Mitrovicë. Fred and I left the town as fast as we could, fearful that we may have just accidentally kidnapped the old man from a village he's maybe never left and is now in some random town's bus station. The mad adventure was over.

Mitrovicë - The Most Divided City in Europe? 

After the scandal in Skenderaj, Fred and I hurried to Mitrovicë where we would be spending the night. Our hotel, the Ador Hotel, was in the northern half of the city, our first time in a Serbian-majority area since beginning this trip and immediately the vibe was very different. 

The city is divided by the Ibar River - on the north is the smaller, Serb majority part of the city. The buildings are drab and reflective of what this city was like perhaps in Yugoslav times. There are statues and monuments to various Serb heroes and legends. Shop signs are in the cyrillic alphabet of the Serb language. Some places even list prices for goods in Serbian Dinar. We once again hike up (sherpaless and oxygenless of course) to a monument for miners from the city who lost their lives in World War II which was clearly an interesting relic from Yugoslav days. Also at the monument was a half destroye/built stadium of some sort, which made for fantastic photos.

Statues of Serbian war heroes with a Serbian flag in Northern Mitrovicë.

After crossing the Mitrovicë Bridge into the southern half of the city, the vibe is once again immediately different. It is clear there has been much more investment on this side with a huge multi-national shopping district, cafes, restaurants, and more. It is noticeably busier and the statues here are of Kosovan war heroes such as Adem Jashari and Isa Boletini. 

With seemingly such a divide in the standard of living on either side of the bridge, it is perhaps not hard to see why tensions and resentment exist to such a high degree. Ultimately, the two ethnic groups must live alongside each other as neighbours and there is no solution to the political, religious, and ethnic divide here. That much is evident. The Kosovar Albanians are the majority and as a people of that land have the right to self-determination just as any other peoples in any other lands. On the other hand, Serbs view Kosovo as an integral part of Serbia, they believe that without Kosovo, there is no Serbia. Kosovo as a region is home to a number of significant religious sites for the Serbian Orthodox Church. Furthermore, the Serbs defeated the Ottomans in this region during the Battle of Kosovo in 1389, laying the foundations for the beginnings of the Serbian state. 

Of course, Fred and I contemplated the deep complexities of the Kosovo Question over a meal in the Albanian southern half of the city. But ultimately we accepted that there was nothing we could do, so we settled for donating our hard-earned salaries to the local economy in the form of a rooftop shisha bar where, of course, we simply had a few soft drinks and enjoyed the atmosphere and saw the night away...

Re-living memories and creating new ones...

The following day we left Mitrovicë and headed back on the long drive to the start and end point of our trip, Tirana. We had an early morning flight the next morning so it was a quiet one in which we had a meal and once again re-visited places such as the first apartment we stayed in when we first arrived in 2021 or stupid things like visiting the first Vodafone shop we went to, but they all brought back so many memories. Tirana was where we first experienced the hospitality and warmth of the Albanian people and our love for it only grew from here. 

The city is vastly different to what it was 4 years prior. There are more tourists - cosmetic and otherwise. The airport has pretty much doubled in size and now has e-gates and a functioning airport bus (we no longer have to cram in a minivan). The mural which overlooks Tirana's main square, Skanderbeg Square, has been fully re-furbished and is no longer covered in tarp and scaffolding. 

Tourism is seemingly thriving in the capital and in particular southern Albania where Tiktok and Instagram reels have made places like Ksamil popular destinations for influencers and the like. While this can only be a good thing for the local populations, I do fear that Albania could sell its soul to tourism and the focus has to be on preserving culture and authenticity over cosmetic/stag-do tourism. It's not there yet, but there is a real risk it seems to be going this way with most of the advertisements in the in-flight magazine promoting various cosmetic surgeries in Albania. 

Fred and I re-visited many of the places that made our first trip so memorable, but we also created new memories in new places that I'm sure will be the focus of future adventures too (maybe we'll go and apologise to the elderly hitchhiker). If there's one place to visit before the crowds get there in Europe, it's still Northern Albania and Kosovo. There's still vast swathes of untouched towns and cities with huge amounts of culture, history, and exploration to be done. You won't regret it. I didn't. 

The Warzone Series - Part 1: Armenian Borderlands 🇦🇲

Anyone who knows my travel style knows that I'm fond of travelling to places "off the beaten path" - and not in some sort of faux-influencer way where going to Kotor in Montenegro is considered 'off the beaten path' (it's really not). In 2023 I visited two of the most synonymous places with war that you could have in the world - Iraq and Syria. But where did my pre-occupation to visit these sort of places first begin? How did I build the confident to visit those sort of places?

My first brush with a warzone came during the part of my life I like to describe as the 'Eastern European Travels of 2019' where I backpacked across seven countries, from Vienna to Istanbul. At the time Ukraine wasn't in full scale war - just in the far-east, hundreds of kilometres from the main population centres that I visited. 

Following a stint travelling across Ukraine on this trip, I caught a flight from Kiev to Tbilisi, Georgia for the second half of this trip where I'd make my way overland towards Istanbul before flying home. After a few days in Tbilisi I decided to hitchhike down into Armenia with Holger, a mad Dutchman I met in my hostel (shoutout to Holger, we still keep in touch). We got picked up by people from all walks of life - from members of the Armenian Army to a Caterpillar machinery operator.

Trying to hitch a ride in northern Armenia. My board says 'Yerevan' in three different alphabets, to not much avail. 

In Armenia I went to the Ancient Temple of Garni, the Armenian Genocide Memorial, and spent a lot of my time trying to avoid heatstroke in the country's capital, Yerevan. After three days, it was time to return to Georgia to continue onwards to Turkey due to Armenia and Turkey's non-existent bilateral relations. Turkey and Armenia have a long, complex history that involves genocide, a century-old border treaty, ethnic cleansing, and so much more. 

We eventually gave up our hitchhike attempt in the town of Vanadzor, where we caught a marshrutka. The rolling green hills of central Armenia reminded me of the Windows home screen.

Garni Temple - a must visit for anyone who makes the journey to Yerevan. I think it was about an hour away on a minibus, if that. 

There are a few direct options back up to Tbilisi from Yerevan, the quickest way takes you up the countrys eastern border with Azerbaijan. For those who don't have an interest in global geopolitics, this is perhaps one of the most "hot" borders in the world and has been for some time (behind obvious places such as North Korea-South Korea, Israel-Gaza, Ukraine-Russia). This is in large part thanks to, once again, a border dispute over the region of Nagorno-Karabakh, a place with a long history but in modern times is a remnant of the former Soviet Union that has created huge problems in the region ever since its collapse. 

In short, Nagorno-Karabakh is a region, internationally recognised as part of Azerbaijan, but when I was there in 2019 was under the control of the Armenian military. This has since changed with Azerbaijan reclaiming the region in 2023 leading to the displacement of hundreds of thousands of Armenians into Armenia and even more recently, a draft peace deal being agreed in March 2025 between the two countries, potentially ending this decades long conflict. 

This map shows the de-facto border in 2019, when I was there. This has all now completely changed following the 2020 war between the two countries and Azerbaijan's offensive in 2023 that reclaimed Nagorno-Karabakh.

Going back to my time there in 2019, however, highlights just how fragile the entire situation was. While my marshrutka bus back to Tbilisi did not pass through Nagorno-Karabakh, it did come very close to Armenia's north-eastern border with Azerbaijan. As you can see there are a couple of exclaves in yellow at the top, which once again are internationally recognised as part of Azerbaijan following the fall of the Soviet Union but are now under the control of Armenia. The region there is also extremely mountainous and as such the road would cut in and out of Azerbaijan. I followed it along my iPhone which tracked my location. The borderlands up there were fragile contested places and the FCO even advises against travel there. 

As you can see, the borderland between Armenia and Azerbaijan marked in red.

The route our marshrutka took followed this mountainous border region. As you can see, it cut across the internationally recognised borders of Armenia and Azerbaijan many times. Like the Turkey border, it is closed.

I might make it seem as if this journey was more treacherous than it really was. If you were one of the other tourists, or even locals for that matter, on the same marshrutka I was on, you may never have known that we were inadvertently crossing in and out of two countries with such a deep-rooted history of conflict. The bus ride passed without incident, but it was my first experience travelling to a 'red-zone' and perhaps where my interest in visiting places like these began. 

Gagauzia - The Autonomous Region You've Never Heard Of 🇲🇩

On my most recent trip to Moldova, there was a second, lesser-known, region that I wanted to visit as well as its more famous cousin Transnistria. The region I am referring to here is that of Gagauzia, an autonomous region where a Turkic-speaking, orthodox Christian, ethnic minority called the Gagauz primarily live. It is located in southern Moldova and is made up of three main enclaves. They have their own flag, their own language (although most people here do not speak it and instead speak Russian as a default), and their own government. 

The flag of Gagauzia - the three stars representing the three enclaves. 

Gagauzia within Moldova. 

After I returned from Transnistria, my attention turned to visiting this next region, a place I had not heard of just a few months before the trip. I learnt of Gagauzia thanks to NomadMania, a sort of social media website which is used for tracking travels and separates the world into 1301 regions - which is how I found Gagauzia. 

I had a limited time in Moldova to explore the regions I wanted to. Upon arrival in Chisinau from Tiraspol, I was absolutely starving after a disastrous attempt to find a restaurant in the town of Bender, so I went to La Placinte, a chain Romanian/Moldovan traditional restaurant where I dined like a king and ate some fantastic traditional food. 

My delicious Moldovan meal. Think it was veal with buckwheat in a mushroom sauce? 

After scoffing down a succulent Moldovan meal, I once again crammed on one of Chisinau's commuter buses to the airport, feeling even more like a sardine in a can than I did that same morning. As it was winter and the day was slowly coming to an end, I hurriedly picked up my rental car to ensure that I did as little driving in the dark as possible. In front of me was an hour and a half drive to the town of Congaz, a small town in Gagauzia's largest enclave. It was here that I would stay at Gagauz Sofrasi, a fantastic local and traditional hotel, which was themed in traditional Gagauz style. The drive was relatively simple, although it is always a little nerve-wracking when driving on the other side of the road in a country you haven't driven in before. While I had driven on the other side of the road before in other countries, this was my first time doing it truly solo.

Gagauzia - it sounds like something you'd say if you were clearing your throat. But what an incredibly unique part of the world. I arrived after dark, checked into the hotel, bought myself some snacks for the evening before settling down for the night ahead of my final day of adventure. The interior, traditional, wooden decor of the hotel made me feel as if I was staying in a homestay opposed to a hotel. My bathroom was nearly as big, if not bigger, than my room. 

The sign for Gagauz Sofrasi - my hotel in Congaz. Great place. 

I woke up early the next day eager to have a traditional Gagauz breakfast at my hotel but when I went to eat, the place was deserted. Nevertheless, this meant more time on the road, exploring Gagauzia and the rest of southern Moldova. My first stop of the day would be Taraclia, a town that isn't actually in the Gagauz region but is another interesting and unique village, being a Bulgarian majority town here in the heart of Moldova. According to a brief history lesson in Wikipedia, Taraclia's ethnically Bulgarian residents are descendants of Bulgarian immigrants who arrived in Bessarabia after the Russo-Turkish War of 1806-12. I visited a Soviet war memorial to those who died from this town in the Soviet-Afghan War. Not something you see every day. A quick drive into the town centre to meet some Bulgars and practise my Bulgarian (consisting of the sole word for 'thank you = blogadariya') was unfruitful as everything was essentially closed and there was not a soul in sight. 

Taraclia - the cyrillic text reads something like 'Centre of Bulgaria in Moldova'

A memorial for workers involved in the Chernobyl disaster from Taraclia. 

I exited the town with the next destination in mind - Vulcanesti - the second largest town of autonomous Gagauzia in the second largest enclave. It was a quiet town and I parked the car had a walk around the centre. Once again I found the town's Afghan War memorial. Interestingly, the town's city hall here still had its Soviet emblem and Lenin statue. Despite being a Turkic people, the Gagauz primarily spoke Russian and I think very few still spoke their Turkish dialect anymore. Once again I tried to find some food without any luck so continued north to Comrat where I planned to visit the Comrat Regional History Museum and grab some food. 

Another Afghan War memorial in Vulcanesti.

The town again was just like any you'd find in Eastern Europe, being winter it was pretty dreary although the church was brightly coloured (normal for Orthodox Christians) but mostly was just local shops selling anything from cigarettes to lawn mowers. I struggled to find the museum at first and I walked into a building and straight into some sort of town hall meeting. I quickly apologised and left before a couple of ladies came out and asked what I was looking for. After they found out I wanted to see the museum they advised it was actually in that building and I was free to come in. I don't know how many, if any, foreign visitors they get but I got what was essentially a private tour of the town's museum. It was interesting to see examples of Gagauz dresses, homes, and the local wildlife and fauna. My guide only spoke Russian and I managed to ask some very basic questions and she managed to explain some bits to me while, although I could not speak Russian much, I managed to understand quite a bit that I remembered from my travels in the past. The guide confirmed to me that most people spoke Russian as opposed to the dialect of Turkish. Interestingly, when I asked if Gagauz people supported independence from Moldova, she said no - the Gagauz people just wanted autonomy but saw themselves equally as Moldovan. 

Lenin still stands tall in front of the Vulcanesti town hall.

From Comrat I decided to head back to Chisinau a little earlier than planned. I ended up getting lost trying to find a parking space for the restaurant I wanted to go to and so just decided to make the slow drive back to Chisinau, where I dropped the rental car off a little early and headed to Chisinau town centre where I found a sports bar, had some lunch, and watched the football before heading back to the airport for my return flight back to the UK. 

Overall, this was a unique trip with some unique places that not many people will ever get to say they've visited. Will I be rushing back? Probably not. There is a reason Moldova is one of the least-visited countries in Europe and while there are certainly things to do - especially if you have interest in wine (there are a few very good wineries I'm told). Unless you have an interest in visiting these places just because they are unique - then you may have found this trip boring. But I certainly found the history of these places quite interesting and unique. Gagauzia is somewhere I had never heard of a few months prior to this trip and just goes to show that Europe is such a diverse continent despite what our pre-conceptions might be. Ethnically, religiously, culturally, linguistically - there's so much to see and explore beyond the borders that make up this continent. 

Back In The USSR

When travelling in Eastern Europe and, more specifically, countries that once formed part of the USSR, it can understandably be a pejorative to describe somewhere as "Soviet", "like going back in time", or (even worse) "Russian". However, travelling to Moldova's breakaway republic known as Transnistria in English or Pridniestrovia locally, where this description is not only accurate but perhaps welcomed by locals. 

If you're a history buff like myself, you may have heard of Transnistria but for most travellers and tourists alike - Moldova, let alone Transnistria, is unlikely to have ever come across your radar. 

The location of Transnistria, a slither of land between Moldova and Ukraine. 

Transnistria's history is complicated so I'll try to explain it as briefly and easily as possible. Moldova used to be part of Romania prior to World War II and the area that is now Transnistria was part of the Ukrainian Soviet Socialist Republic. Following the Molotov-Ribbentrop Pact, the area of Moldova was given to the USSR, which became the Moldovan SSR. The area of Transnistria was changed from the Ukrainian SSR to the Moldovan SSR, which wasn't an issue until 1990 when the Soviet Union fell, leading to a civil war in Moldova. 

Today, Transnistria is a quasi, semi-recognised, state of its own that operates with its own currency and border, although it is evident it has aspirations to join the Russian Federation. Its people speak Russian, are ethnically Russian, and look towards a future with Russia. Russia operates a number of military bases in the area, there for so-called "peace-keeping" missions, although the Moldovan government has some opinions on this I'm sure. 

Transnistria isn't even recognised as a state by Russia. It only receives recognition from other quasi-state breakaway regions backed by the Russian Federation - these are the two breakaway regions of Abkhazia and South Ossettia, internationally recognised as sovereign parts of Georgia. 

A bust of Vladimir Lenin looks on patriotically in front of Transnistria's government building.

My journey to Transnistria involved a return to Chisinau, Moldova - a place I had been to on my Eastern European travels in 2019, where I spent six weeks travelling from Vienna to Istanbul, the long way round. That time, I spent three nights in Chisinau, resting and recuperating after an arduous journey from Lviv to Odessa, followed by a failed hitchhiking attempt from Odessa to Moldova. I remember at the time not having the energy to do too much travelling within Moldova itself so I spent the time in the city centre, exploring the parks, eating the food, and primarily relaxing before the next left of the trip up to Kiev, Kharkiv, and then down to Georgia.

When I returned in January of this year (2025), my plan was to:

• (a) head to Transnistria for the first time and,
• (b) to explore another lesser-known autonomous region with Moldova, Gagauzia. 

It would be a quick trip, just two nights, with a lot of exploring, but with a career that I enjoy comes certain restrictions on my annual leave and also in my days off! Nevertheless, what I had planned was do-able in the time I had given myself. 

I arrived into Chisinau on a Wizz Air flight from London, late in the evening on the 30th January and went straight to my hotel, The Hotel Jumbo, which I must recommend. For a fee, they picked me up from the airport and took me straight to the hotel. My room was huge and I enjoyed a nice hot bath before retiring to bed - quite the change from the last time I was here and stayed in a bunk bed in an 8-person dorm for £10/night with a crazy Australian who yelled at people for opening their phones in the dark (the guy was genuinely mad). 

It was an early start the following day and back to my backpacker ways. I joined the early morning commuters on Chisinau's bus network, like sardines in a can as a man with a blue high-viz squeezed his way through the bus, collecting the 6 Moldovan Lei fare, paid in cash only, quite the difference from other European capitals where tickets can be paid on your phone, with a contactless card, but most certainly not cash!

A few stops into the city centre and I arrived near the city's central bus station, nestled in the central market where the vendors were getting their stalls set up for the day. I dropped my bag off in an underground bag storage place, much to the bemusement of the lady working there. Moldova is supposedly Europe's least visited country and I suppose they don't get tourists too much. Thinking back to it - I don't think I remember hearing or seeing any other English-speaking tourists while I was there. 

An abandoned ferris wheel in the so-called 'Victory Park'

After a couple of laps of the bus station, I managed to find the bus stand where the bus to Tiraspol, Transnistria's capital, would be leaving. A friendly bus driver asked where I was going, and pointed me in the bus. It was all going smoothly so far. 

I was filled with trepidation on the journey - Transnistria is marked as a "do not travel" zone according to the UK's Foreign and Commonwealth Office. Not that it has ever stopped me before when travelling to Iraq, Syria, and parts of Armenia. Nevertheless, warnings of kidnapping, false imprisonment, and more always create increasingly more vivid details and imagery in your head as you get closer to the border. 

The FCO's map of Moldova, with advice against all travel to Transnistria - a warning reserved for some of the most volatile regions on earth!

Moldova, of course, does not recognise Transnistria's independence and as such has no formal border checks as you leave their area of control. The Transnistrian 'border' was a relative formality. The border guard who dealt with my passport seemingly disgusted at my ineptitude to speak Russian, although he spoke English quite well. I was given a slip of paper which doubled as my 'tourist visa' and back into the bus I went. 

The difference between Moldova and Transnistria was extremely noticeable. Even when disregarding the Russian military bases, Russian flags, Russian soldiers, and destroyed tanks from the civil war that took place here in the early 1990s, it truly is like stepping back into the Soviet Union. While the buses in Moldova have not changed in 20 years, the buses in Transnistria have not changed in 40 years. Perhaps due to international sanctions or perhaps due to public officials embezzlement, not a lot of money seems to trickle down into public services. 

I'm the last to get off the bus in Tiraspol's city centre. One main high street forms the centre here. I walked to "Victory Park", a common name in former Soviet states - the park is overgrown and a rusty theme park litters the view, although it is the same park used as a thumbnail in a number of Youtube videos. If I didn't know any better, I'd have thought I was in Chernobyl. 

On the way back into town I walk past Transnistria's official government building. A bust of Vladimir Lenin looks proudly into the distance, with the brutalist government institution behind it proudly draped in the flag of the People's Republic of Transnistria. To the left is a huge notice board with the mugshots of the republic's most loyal civil servants no doubt. It's when I notice on the second row of people's mugshots that the border guard who allowed me into Transnistria was actually Commissar for Border Security, or something along those lines. How bizarre, but quite cool too. 

Tiraspol's city centre is relatively small and, admittedly, quite boring. What makes Transnistria interesting is its history and uniqueness. In the main square are a few flags, one obviously being their own, the other being that of the Russian Federation, and the other two being that of South Ossettia and Abkhazia, a small nod of appreciation for their recognition of the area. I wonder if South Ossettia and Abkhazia have Trasnistrian flags? 

Difficult to see in this photo - but here the flags of Transnistria, South Ossettia, and Abkhazia fly high over Tiraspol's main square.

I grab a couple of souvenirs and head into the town of Bender, one of the few areas west of the Dniester River that the Transnistrian government holds. I want to see Bender fortress but the weather is terribly cold and by this time I'm quite bored of the place! There is very little tourist infrastructure here. I am beyond starving and look for the USSR Cafe, one of the very few tourist traps here but after walking in circles of where it said it was on the map and probably drawing the attention of the KGB, I give up my hopes of finding this place and go to the bus station to return to civili... I mean Moldova. 

Is it worth visiting Transnistria? I'd say if you are interested in Eastern Europe, former Soviet states, and unique places - then definitely yes. For the normal traveller there is really not a lot there to do. Even I, a self-proclaimed history buff and enthusiast of visiting places lesser-known, found Transnistria quite boring.