I explored Europe’s ‘least-visited’ country – with unrecognised states and underground wine cities

Just 525,100 tourists visited in 2025 (Picture: Alice Murphy)

Soviet relics, an underground wine city, and a self-ruling region that feels frozen in time.

This is what awaits in Moldova, a tiny country sandwiched between Romania and Ukraine, consistently ranked as the least-visited in Europe.

It was also dubbed the world’s unhappiest place in a bestselling book in 2008.

But today, Moldova is better known for an authenticity that is vanishing elsewhere on the continent.

I spent four days there to see what it’s all about.

Chișinău: youngest kid on the block

Chișinău, pronounced keesh-ee-now , is a city where people actually live.

Unlike Dublin, for instance, where the centre has been hollowed out by chain hotels and tourist shops, along the wide boulevards of the Moldovan capital there are bars, restaurants and leafy parks full of locals.

Tulips in bloom at Cathedral Park in central Chișinău (Picture: Alice Murphy)

Traffic is bad. The city was designed in Soviet times for what was then an aspirational 90,000 vehicles. Today there are upwards of 500,000, so I was warned in advance: it’s better to walk.

On the one occasion that I do hitch a ride on the local taxi app, my driver Teodor seems genuinely incredulous when I leave him the equivalent of a £1.50 tip.

Our exchange hints at what life is really like here.

As well as least-visited, Moldova is widely considered to be the poorest country in Europe.

It has the lowest GDP per capita and its economy relies heavily on fruit farming and wine production. Roughly a quarter of the working-age population lives abroad.

In many ways, having been occupied by just about every empire from the Ottomans and the Tsars to the Nazis and the Soviets, Moldova is the youngest kid on the block.

Local journalist Anastasia Bravia describes it is a place ‘where everything is just beginning’, and tourism expert Valeria Bragarenco agrees.

‘I think of Moldova as a little child. We are just starting out, figuring out where we fit in the world,’ she says.

Walking through history

My stroll around the capital takes me to Soviet relics such as the abandoned State Circus, a circular structure with headless jugglers over the door, and the Romanita tower (the tallest building in town).

Tourists take photos of the abandoned State Circus (Picture: Alice Murphy)

In the 1980s, Romanita was the city’s most ambitious housing project: a strange elongated shape, a futuristic ‘flying saucer’ on the roof, a spiral staircase inside, and apartments arranged in a circle.

Today it is decaying but people still live there, which only adds to the intrigue.

Much of Chișinău straddles two worlds, and nowhere is this more obvious than on the corner of Arborilor Street.

Beautifully Brutalist Romanita tower (Picture: Alice Murphy)

There is a Marriott hotel with a sign on the front for ‘New York restaurant and bar’, a laminated cut out of the Statue of Liberty above the doorway.

Beside it, Shopping Mall-dova, where shoppers can get the latest styles from brands such as Calvin Klein, Mango, and Under Armour.

From a billboard out front, the Italian influencer Chiara Ferragni beams topless to passersby. If Lenin could see it now.

It’s not for everyone, yet for a certain kind of traveller, this place is heaven.

A monument to Stephen the Great, ruler of Moldova in the 15th century (Picture: Alice Murphy)

Moldova only had around 525,100 tourists in 2025, according to data from the National Bureau of Statistics, but it has big ambitions.

‘In five years, we hope Moldova will be recognised as one of Europe’s most authentic and surprising travel destinations — a place people visit for meaningful cultural experiences, nature, hospitality, and human connection,’ says Mtvarisa Luchian, Head of Marketing, Communication and Innovation at Moldova’s National Tourism Office.

The dream, she says, is attracting travellers who are looking for something genuine and less commercialised than the usual destinations.

And ensuring those visitors are spread evenly in small villages and family-run guesthouses across the country — not just in Chișinău.

The cascading staircase in the Valley of the Mills Park in Chișinău (Picture: Alice Murphy)

‘Success for us is not mass tourism, it is sustainable tourism that benefits both visitors and locals,’ Mtvarisa explains.

‘Tourism development only makes sense if it improves the quality of life for local communities as well. So rather than transforming places for tourists, we want tourism to help strengthen what already makes Moldova special for the people who live here.’

Women outside the town cathedral in Comrat, regional capital of the Autonomous Territorial Unit of Gagauzia (Picture: Alice Murphy)

Time to refuel.

La Placinte, I am told, is a great place for grub and vino, and is much-loved by Moldovans of every background.

I set about scanning the menu (in Moldovan only) through Google Translate, and receive an assortment of fillings for placinta , the traditional pastry cake for which the restaurant is named.

My options include potatoes, cow cheese and green, cow cheese and sheep cheese, and something called ‘pig hair and antenna sew’.

I assume it is a case of lost in translation and hedge my bets on the spuds. It’s delicious.

Later, I enjoy an equally splendid meal at an unlikely location: Lazy Crazy, an Asian restaurant that Reddit tells me does the best sushi in town.

The ramen, I can attest, is just as good. Back to the streets.

Placinta, a pastry traditional in Romania and Moldova that’s usually filled with apples, soft cheese or potato (Picture: Alice Murphy)

In the heart of the city, I count three functioning schools and a public swimming pool within spitting distance of the National History Museum (50 leu entry). As we said, people actually live here.

This imposing building is a cabinet of curiosities including ancient Greek funeral necklaces, Roman cooking pots that date back to the 5th century BC and an inordinate amount of pianos.

The exhibition halls are cavernous and elegant, though there’s not much by way of description.

The National History Museum promises to tell the story of Moldova, but the storytelling could do with some work (Picture: Alice Murphy)

On a display case of old photographs, one caption reads: ‘Maria Cebotari with her friend Valentina Midari in front of her parents’ house. Chișinău. 1936.’

And who are they when they’re at home?

(Seems Maria was a soprano with ‘one of the greatest voices’ ever heard.)

What does enthrall is the photo exhibition by Anna Bedyńska, who documents Moldova’s fading funeral traditions and its community of people with albinism.

Fading traditions captured by Anna Bedyńska (Picture: Alice Murphy)

On my way out, I meet an elderly American couple who are closing out a cycling holiday through Romania and Moldova.

‘We live rurally on a farm back home, but the countryside here is like where we live now, but a hundred years ago,’ the wife tells me.

‘We stayed in these really old houses that actually have all the modern amenities. It’s like Italy, but more authentic. Best of both worlds.’

Time to get out of the city.

A typical home in Moldova’s rural villages (Picture: Alice Murphy)

Cricova: underground wine city

Moldova is a small country with a huge passion for wine, and nowhere is that more on display than at Cricova, a famous winery 11km outside Chișinău.

I descend 100m underground to the estate’s icy cellar where one million litres of wine are maturing in a former limestone mine.

It’s an impressive sight, but some of the bottles have a dark history.

In one section lies a collection that once belonged to Nazi henchman Hermann Goering. Confiscated by the Red Army in 1945, it is estimated that one bottle could by worth £15,000 at auction.

A cavernous reception hall 100m underground at Cricova (Picture: Alice Murphy)

I try generous glasses of Cricova’s award-winning wines, and the standout is its most celebrated: a sparkling Cuvée Prestige Brut, made using the French traditional method developed by monk Dom Perignon.

Moldova may be far behind in the PR game compared to European heavyweights like France, Italy, and Spain.

But its wine can go toe-to-toe with any I’ve had and I can assure you, it stands up.

Away from Cricova, I am told by several sources that Moldova’s real wine magic lies in its lesser-known vineyards.

Cricova estate is home to priceless historic collections (Picture: Alice Murphy)

There’s Purcari, the oldest winery in the country and ‘most awarded winery in Europe’; Castel Mimi, an architectural masterpiece; Milestii Mici, renowned for traditional tastings served in handmade ceramic pots; and Chateau Vartely, the new kid on the block with an excellent restaurant.

If only I had time to try them all.

A place that doesn’t exist

One of the recommended activities for a visit to Moldova is a day trip to Transnistria, an unrecognised breakaway state between the Moldova-Ukraine border and the Dniester River.

Described as a ‘surreal relic of Soviet times’, this tiny enclave – known locally as Pridnestrovie – is a magnet for intrepid travellers.

It’s got Lenin statues and its own (unratified) currency. It’s got a ghostly railway station, a dark military history and restaurants that look like they’re back in the USSR.

But there’s another mysterious region that even fewer people visit.

Onion-domed churches and a watchful Lenin in Comrat, regional capital of the Autonomous Territorial Unit of Gagauzia (Picture: Alice Murphy)

About 90 minutes south of Chișinău is the Autonomous Territorial Unit of Gagauzia.

This region in the south has just three towns and a population of 160,000 at the last census, though locals tell me they are sure it is less.

Unlike Transnistria, Gagauzia is an autonomous region integrated in to Moldova. That means they use Moldovan currency, follow Moldovan laws and have Moldovan citizenship.

‘I love Comrat’, or Komrat, in Russian (Picture: Alice Murphy)

But Gagauz identity is strong, and alongside the ghosts of past empires, the question of independence has hung over its people for decades.

The regional capital Comrat is tiny, fascinating, and deserving of its own story. We’ll be publishing that later this week.

Old Orhei

A friend-of-a-friend who grew up in Moldova insisted that I visit Orheiul Vechi (Old Orhei), a historic site with a 15th-century monastery carved into a mountainside.

To reach it, I must take a white mini-bus known as a marshrutka from the Chișinău’s central bus station.

Old Orhei, an archaeological site in Butuceni, central Moldova (Picture: Alice Murphy)

To reach that , I must pass through the central market, which takes over Armeneasca, Tighina and Columna streets on Saturday mornings.

The produce is abundant, the aromas overwhelming. There are giant bulbs of garlic, huge hocks of soft white cheese and dark, girthy coils of blood pudding.

I pay the equivalent of £1.50 and we’re whizzing through the countryside, past ramshackle cottages and fertile plains.

Here, again, I am walking through history.

A goat on the hillside at Old Orhei (Picture: Alice Murphy)

Occupying a remote, rocky ridge over the Răut River, Old Orhei is known for its cave monastery, but also includes ruins ranging from the earliest days of the Dacian tribes more than 2,000 years ago through the Mongol and Tatar invasions of the early Middle Ages.

I follow the 15-minute trail to the monastery and along the ridge to the Orthodox church, built in 1905 and closed by the Soviets in 1944.

Its beauty is stark, and I pass a pleasant afternoon hiking and writing on the hillside.

When I descend in search of a bus back to Chișinău, I am told that there won’t be another for almost three hours.

A marshrutka, the beefy white minibuses used as public transport across much of central eastern Europe (Picture: Alice Murphy)

It’s a long shot, but I chance ordering a taxi on the local app. Within seconds, a driver is calling me.

He says that he’s sorry, he won’t be there for at least 25 minutes, and asks if it’s alright that we swing by his mother’s house to drop off groceries on our way to the city.

I gratefully agree and hope that as it pursues its big ambitions, Moldova never loses its authenticity.

Getting to Moldova from the UK

Wizz Air flies direct from London Luton to Chișinău. Return fares start from £98 in June. You can book here.

Mimi Hotel Jolly Alon is one of the best places to stay in Chișinău. Double rooms from £137 per night in June. Breakfast not included.

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