retiredmartin

March 2025. Iași. Romania.

A 4:30 am alarm in the Mid Stay at Luton Airport, a quick fry-up of last night’s curry, and then we left the campervan in the safe hands of Alfie, Dave and co.

It’s only a 10 minute stroll to the terminal, which makes Luton Mid Stay better than some short stay car parks in my book,

and 10 minutes later you’re through security wondering whether to have a 6am pint at the Big Smoke “Tap” (no).

We’re off to Iaşi, our entry point into Moldova and a destination in its own right.

Duncan has been here; Duncan has been everywhere.

But he couldn’t find Iaşi post on his marvellous blog, because he’d forgot about that infamous “comma below” when searching his own site.

Thanks, ChatGPT.

Digging further into that map you’ll see not only how close Iaşi is to the Moldovan border,

but how close you are to place names like Kherson and Zernov’s Phyllophora Field.

20 minutes after walking through the Arrivals door at Iaşi, we’re at central Piata Independentei and it’s all looking very Communist era.

And a bit eerily quiet.

“LOOK ! There’s a place saying BEER !” says Mrs RM, urgently.

She’s good at spotting pubs, the address on Bing Maps runs to six volumes and makes it sound like an impossibility to find.

It’s on the way to our hotel, we’re travelling light, it’s a Pubmeister-recommended bar,

and it’s best to start your holiday with a large glass of Cearfisa’s 8% Imperial Stout (and a PINTA Hazy Delivery with motivational slogans on the glass).

The beer is great, the Greek blues (12 Shazams) soundtrack perfect,

my first attempt at a Romanian “Thanks” (mult-i-meskoo or something) almost recognised, the place itself a bit functional.

The other custom seemed to be entirely Delirium Tremens.

But there’s worse beers to waste away your Wednesday.