Being in Chisinau (Moldova) and not taking a moment to visit Odesa, which is so close, felt like missing something. Yes, there's a war going on, or, even better, an invasion, but the desire to visit was bigger than my concerns.
In the current state of things, Ukrainian cities are obviously reachable only by land, and from Chisinau it's very easy. There are buses every 30 minutes, or, like I did, you can jump on one of the many BlaBlaCar(s) going there. I decided to opt for a car ride because, not knowing what to expect, I had a ton of questions for my driver. That's where I met Giku.
«I'm from Moldova, my wife is from Odesa. We first met because we're both vegetarian, and you know, meeting someone who shares the same values as you naturally creates an easier connection.»
We quickly stop at a service station, and he recommends I try Placinta, a typical rustic pastry filled with cheese, meat or cabbage and cooked in a pan or oven. Since I'm vegetarian as well, he suggests the one with cabbage or cheese. Despite not being hungry, I took both of them and they were absolutely delicious, with a taste similar to Bosnian sirnica/burek. After all, we're in the Balkans.
«In Chisinau my wife and I make organic peanut butters. It's not going that well, but the product is good. She's in Odesa for a few weeks to sort out some personal bureaucratic things; I miss her, and I'm spending a longer weekend there.»
Crossing the border
Approaching the border with Ukraine, I was a bit afraid they would reject me, but after all, why should they? A tourist visiting a country and contributing to the economy should be encouraged, not pushed away. What I didn't know, however, was about the very long queue at the border checks.
«It was like this even before the war. I can't wait for Moldova and Ukraine to join the EU, so there will be no more border controls.»
Ukrainian officers come to our car, take our passports and, after about an hour and a half, we're finally in.
«Usually at borders they search for drugs; here they're interested in drones and bullets.»
Building in Odesa. For safety reasons, no photos can be taken at the border and military checkpoints.
Building in Odesa. For safety reasons, no photos can be taken at the border and military checkpoints.
Emotions are flooding through me, all very different but with the same strength. First, I'm anxious. Not a negative anxiety, but just the fear of not knowing what's next. I'm excited, of course. That bit of adrenaline will stay with me for half an hour. I'm curious. Curious to see how life works there, how people react to raid alarms, how shelters are made, what a raid siren sounds like. Curiosity was the main driver that led me here.
In our home countries, we hear and read news about the war, and my dear friend Sveta, who's Ukrainian, always tells me about it, but I don't know what emotions you feel when you hear it. This mix of anxiety, excitement and curiosity makes me look up at the sky to scan for drones every two seconds. As I said, I don't really know what to expect.
«Odesa is pretty safe. There are a few raid alarms during the day or night, but nothing to worry about. You should also go to the beach, the water is wonderful and the government cleared a lot of beaches of land mines. They're safe to go to, we're going for sure.»
In rapid succession, the very things I didn't expect appear before my eyes: a military checkpoint, pick-ups with a machine gun in the back, lots of billboards sponsoring the war with pictures of soldiers and different messages I'm unable to understand.
«The billboards say you should join the army, and you'll get glory and money.»
"З Днем Збройних Сил України!" (Happy Day of the Armed Forces of Ukraine!) and "Слава Україні! Героям Слава!" (Glory to Ukraine! Glory to the Heroes!)
"Захищаємо Україну разом!" (Defending Ukraine Together!)
"З Днем Збройних Сил України!" (Happy Day of the Armed Forces of Ukraine!) and "Слава Україні! Героям Слава!" (Glory to Ukraine! Glory to the Heroes!)
"Захищаємо Україну разом!" (Defending Ukraine Together!)
Giku finally drops me at my hotel (chosen because it has a shelter and power generators), but not before gifting me one of his organic peanut butters.
«See? It's only 5 ingredients.» Thank you, Giku, I hope one day you'll expand your business even outside Moldova and ship everywhere in Europe.
The peanut butter made by Giku and his wife
The peanut butter made by Giku and his wife
Must-haves before going
A list of apps and Telegram channels to stay safe and updated on what's going on.
1. "Misto" app, available for several cities in Ukraine, which, along with other features, has all the nearby shelters mapped.
2. "Повітряна тривога" app (Air Alarm). Choose your Oblast (region) and you'll receive notifications when a raid is announced. Trust me, you will hear them (or hopefully you won't), since they're managed as "system critical notifications," so they skip silent mode and everything.
3. "Думская. Одесса. Война в Украине" Telegram channel (Dumskaya. Odesa. War in Ukraine). They send regular and detailed updates during alerts, like what's coming (drones, rockets), from where, how many and when they're destroyed. In Odesa, they always come from the Black Sea.
4. "ТРИВОГА ОДЕСА" Telegram channel (Odesa alarm). Similar to the other, with more generic notifications.
5. Optional, a friend like Sveta who will pay for an e-candle at a Ukrainian church to pray for your safety.
Shelters map in the Misto app
Useful Telegram groups
Shelters map in the Misto app
Useful Telegram groups
The two other Telegram channels in the screenshot are for receiving notifications on alerts and finding the closest shelter, but with the Misto and Air Alarm apps they're not needed.
Inside the country
With the few Ukrainian sentences I've learned, I check in to the hotel and the staff show me where the shelter (укриття) is located. The curiosity to visit it immediately was spiking, but I knew I would be there later for its real purpose, so I just postponed the visit.
Quick stop in the room and I'm out to visit the city, with a camera on the backpack strap, another one in my pocket, ready to capture everything and hunting for souvenirs. Unfortunately I couldn't find the toilet paper with Putin's face on it, nor the "Putin khuylo" beer (Google it).
Memorial tributes to fallen Ukrainian at the Catherine II monument in Odesa
Memorial tributes to fallen Ukrainian at the Catherine II monument in Odesa
What shocks me a bit is seeing how the two faces of the country, normal life and the war, now coexist as if nothing happened, and how people don't even notice this duality anymore.
Ukrainian flags are flying everywhere, at every corner, outside every shop. Painted, flying in the wind, or on the street. Usually I dislike this kind of nationalism, but here, also feeling the strength of the community, it creates in me a feeling of safety and belonging, despite my not being Ukrainian — maybe also because of my friendship with Sveta. She told me that it's illegal now to speak Russian or play Russian music in public shops and businesses, and you can feel this hatred towards Russia everywhere you go.
Wall of wartime protest art and posters in central Odesa
Wall of wartime protest art and posters in central Odesa
Before going to dinner I stop by a small street (Karantynnyi descent), fascinated by the pubs and the beautiful, stylish people drinking outside, which reminded me of some specific areas of Milan and Rome as well. This is where I meet Ksiusha and Katryna, two young girls who, luckily for me, speak good English. My plan to go to the beach is postponed to tomorrow for a good reason (socializing), and after a few hours that flew by without my noticing, it's time to look for a restaurant with vegetarian options nearby.
Found it: True restaurant. No, it's not an ad, I just don't want to gatekeep. Here I'm welcomed by a very kind waitress who understands my needs and accommodates my vegetarian preference for the must-try dish, the borsch, a beetroot soup. I'm sorry, fellow Ukrainians, I know it's outrageous to alter the original recipe, but hopefully you'll forgive me.
First sip and wow, that's incredible, especially when you get a piece of potato, it's heaven. They always bring it with smetana, the typical sour cream, that adds that kick to the dish. Another thing I didn't expect at all about Ukraine is how digital it is: from the Misto app, to the fact that almost every restaurant lets you order and pay with the QR code on every table. I wanted to leave a tip bigger than the total (it was just ~2.30€), but I couldn't through the QR code, so I went and paid with card in person. They reject my desire to tip them, and when I get the receipt I find out that the extra bread I asked for was free. Another quick chat with the waitress, who tells me she has to run to catch a train to Kyiv, and I'm going back to the hotel.
And then, it happened
It's almost 9pm, I'm on the patio of the hotel. First raid alarm. I don't panic, again, I was on the phone with my friend, but I just don't know what will happen. What shocks me is that I'm the only one going to the shelter, while locals are uncorking bottles to celebrate something and laughing with the siren in the background.
«Don't be an idiot, go to the shelter,» is what my friend tells me, so I follow her directions, and it's finally time to see how a ukryttya is made. I had pictured it in my mind like an 80s war-movie shelter , dark, humid, with grey cement walls; it turns out it's actually a regular meeting room at basement level. I'm a bit disappointed, even more so when I find out that I'm the only one there.
When I was at the border with Moldova I read a message from the government saying not to ignore the alerts of the following 48 hours because there was a risk that Russia might use the Oreshnik, again, so I'm a bit worried about that. Instead, there are just a few drones coming from the sea, and the alarms fortunately go off after less than 30 minutes, after which I decide it's time to go to sleep.
11:30pm, another alert. Walking again to the shelter, 30 minutes later, back in the room. 2am, I hear my phone vibrate, I wake up. Another alert, again the shelter, again 30 minutes, again bed.
Day 2
With about 4 hours of sleep, I wake up at 7am to have a rich breakfast and, most importantly, to attend the minute of silence that happens at 9am, when everybody stops, even in the middle of the street, to pay respects to the fallen. Well, it should have happened, but it didn't, so again I'm a bit disappointed (I later found out that in Kyiv it still happens, so it really depends on the city).
"No more alerts last night" is what I think, before realising that I misconfigured the alert app and completely slept through one alarm.
Public transport still going during the minute of silence
Public transport still going during the minute of silence
After more souvenirs and a sandwich, another alarm starts. It's my first alarm completely outside on the streets and far away from the shelter of my hotel.
People, as yesterday, are just ignoring it and keep going with their lives, so I decide to do the same. Walking with the siren reminds me of something Giku told me, which is particularly true now. «When there's a raid incoming or ongoing, the GPS stops working.» Probably the army needs all the bandwidth and satellites, if that's how GPS works.
Pedestrian gallery with shops in city centre
Pedestrian gallery with shops in city centre
Rapid stop at the Potëmkin Stairs (or, better, the Primorsky Stairs in Ukrainian), in front of the Odesa port, is a must for everyone visiting the city. What I wasn't expecting was to see the hotel at the port completely destroyed by the bombs, before 2024.
Close detail of the Hotel Odessa, now destroyed
Close detail of the Hotel Odessa, now destroyed
I go to visit Taras Shevchenko park, very close to yesterday's street (I was headed here, indeed). Lovely park; the main path is lined with pictures and flowers for the fallen. The goal is to visit the beach later, but again, another alarm. This time I'm looking for the closest shelter, the parking lot of the stadium, because we're close to the sea and there are 15 drones coming from there. For once I feel relieved to see that I'm not the only one there, there are actually lots of people. Maybe the notification actually scared them? Not really; apparently a game was about to start in the stadium, and they're just here to go in. At least this shelter has a nice view of the pitch. Despite being really, really curious to go to the beach to see if I could catch any soldiers shooting at drones, I decide that today is not the right day to follow this idea, so I just go back into town as soon as the alert is over.
"ВОНИ ЗАГИНУЛИ ЗА УКРАЇНУ, АЛЕЯ ГЕРОЇВ, ОДЕСА, ВІЧНА СЛАВА ГЕРОЯМ" (They died for Ukraine, Alley of Heroes, Odesa, Eternal glory to the Heroes!)
Pitch view from the parking lot shelter
"ВОНИ ЗАГИНУЛИ ЗА УКРАЇНУ, АЛЕЯ ГЕРОЇВ, ОДЕСА, ВІЧНА СЛАВА ГЕРОЯМ" (They died for Ukraine, Alley of Heroes, Odesa, Eternal glory to the Heroes!)
Pitch view from the parking lot shelter
Time for clothes shopping (I bought a T-shirt of Taras Shevchenko, the same name as the park, who is the most important philosopher and founder of the Ukrainian language) and my friend decides that for dinner, along with varenyky z makom (dumplings filled with poppy seeds), I MUST try uzvar, a cold drink made with smoked and dried pears, apples, raisins and plums. Trust me, you'll never taste anything like it — it's so strange, it was like drinking a smoked buffalo mozzarella (weird comparison, but I'm Italian after all), and I can't decide whether I like it or not while I keep on drinking it.
A night walk through the cute streets, squares and parks of the city (which makes me fall in love with it even more) is the perfect ending to this little trip in Ukraine , but not before more raid alarms, and not a short one: from 11:30pm to 2am, while I try to sleep in the shelter. Surprisingly, someone was there with me as well, while I wonder what it would be like to be at the beach with the soldiers. Answer: not possible, you would need a Press Pass and there's also a curfew from midnight to 5am.
Going back to Chisinau
Last night was exactly like the night before: 4h slept. With a grand total of 8h of rest, it's time to go to the bus station by calling a Bolt to get dropped there quickly (very cheap). Unlike the Balkan countries visited in the previous weeks, here there's no "access tax" to enter, so I quickly find my bus with the hope of resting a bit.
About 2.5 hours of driving and we come across the military checkpoint again, where this time we get stopped and only I and another guy have to show our passports to the army. Nothing complex, just a quick check before hitting the road again.
If you plan to travel by bus to/from Chisinau–Odesa, I highly suggest you use BlaBlaCar again, or, if you run into issues like I did booking buses there, the Busbud app (I used this for the return trip).
If you're around, spending a few days in Odesa is something you can't miss.
