Samuel Jamir
Moldova was never on my list. In fact, until recently, I barely knew it existed.
It’s not the kind of country you find in travel vlogs, glossy brochures, or bucket lists. But sometimes, it’s the places we don’t know that leave the strongest impression — not because we’ve been there, but because something about them resonates with who we are.
As I started learning about Moldova — its landscapes, people, and way of life — something clicked. Through photos, stories, and quiet reading, I began to see a place that felt familiar, even from thousands of kilometres away. A place that reminded me of home.
Moldova isn’t flashy. It doesn’t try to impress. But it has something rare — peace. The kind of peace that lives in open sunflower fields, quiet stone villages, and tree-lined roads where time moves just a little slower. The kind of peace that feels like sitting by a river in Nagaland or walking through the hills after the rain.
What struck me most was the way people live. Moldovans value tradition, family, and community. Their festivals are warm and genuine. Their meals are shared with laughter, not rushed between appointments. In their music and dances, I saw echoes of our own — simple, joyful, rooted.
And then there’s the way of life — gentle, affordable, and grounded. Moldova may be in Europe, but it doesn’t carry the weight of big European prices. Daily living is refreshingly affordable. Life isn’t built around spending — it’s built around living.
That’s what makes Moldova feel so real. So possible. It’s not just a dream destination. It’s a place where you can imagine yourself — not just visiting, but being. Not chasing anything, but settling into something meaningful.
I’ve never walked Moldova’s streets or breathed its countryside air. But somehow, I feel connected. Maybe through the stories of those who’ve been there. Maybe through the quiet way it mirrors our values. Or maybe because in a fast-moving world, Moldova stands still — and sometimes, that’s what we need. You don’t always have to go somewhere to know it matters. Sometimes, a place can speak to you long before your feet touch its soil.
And for me, Moldova — unexpected and unknown — spoke softly but clearly.
Maybe it’s not the Europe we imagined.
Maybe it’s something better.
