I took Europe’s last Soviet sleeper train to a country that doesn’t exist

The Soviet sleeper train takes passengers back in time (Picture: Sam Russell)

It’s the middle of the night, and our train has stopped in Ungheni, a Moldovan city on the border with Romania.

Not to let passengers on or off, but because we’re on Europe’s last Soviet sleeper train — and Moldova’s rail network still does things like it did back in the USSR.

We’re on the Prietenia train, or ‘Friendship train’ in Romanian.

The countries are close allies, sharing deep cultural, linguistic, and historical ties. Today, they’re particularly buddy, thanks to Moldovan President Maia Sandu’s pro-EU government, which seeks protection from Russian threats and alignment with Western Europe.

The Prietenia is a time capsule (Picture: Sam Russell)

As we rest in our basic but functional cabin — complete with thick, itchy blankets that look suspiciously like surplus from the Gulags — the train is hoisted up, and its wheels are switched out from Romania’s standard EU width to wider Soviet gauge tracks. 

This journey was never designed for tourists. It’s basic, efficient, and certainly not glam. It simply exists as it always has, and for locals, it’s just a regular train ride.

Sam’s mum, bedding down for the night (Picture: Sam Russell)

Still, it’s a surreal experience that feels like stepping into a time capsule of the former East.

We start by taking a Wizz Air flight from Luton to Romania’s capital, Bucharest, also known as the ‘Paris of the East’ for its beautiful buildings, tree-lined boulevards and swish cafés.

Bucharest, the ‘Paris of the East’ (Picture: Sam Russell)

Romania is actively promoting tourism, pouring money into accommodation and public transport, and it shows.

Especially when compared to Moldova, which is considered the least visited and poorest country in Europe.

Last year, The Times ranked Bucharest ninth in its roundup of ‘the best affordable city breaks in Europe’. In the Old Town, Haussmannian-style architecture dominates, and there’s a Belle Époque feel to the place. 

However, 40 years of communism has also left its mark. Brutalist apartment blocks, some showing signs of significant neglect, juxtapose elegant buildings. 

Boarding and beyond

We board the train in Bucharest, stepping into carriages of the classic ex-Soviet type. We won’t reach Chișinău, Moldova’s capital, for 14 hours. 

Sam and his mum Julia exploring the abandoned Observatory of the People’s Palace in Moldova (Picture: Sam Russell)

The wooden panelling shows its age, while the worn carpet has been branded with decades of footprints.

But our two-person carriage is warm and cosy — that’s down to the perpetually lit coal fire at the front of the train.

After a surprisingly good night’s sleep (no doubt helped by the copious Bere Chișinău served to us by the barman-cum-head chef), we arrive at our destination. 

The ‘ugliest capital in Europe’ is not everyone’s idea of fun.

Yet for urban explorers who love dilapidated architecture, visiting abandoned buildings, and seeing nature reclaim inner-cities, Chișinău is the ultimate playground.

A dilapidated former state-run hotel in Chișinău (Picture: Sam Russell)

The most prominent example of this is the derelict Observatory of the People’s Palace.

Once built to ‘inspire young Soviet minds through astronomy,’ the building is now heavily vandalised and in a state of decay. The dome is a relic of a vanished era. 

In contrast, locals tell us that 2026 is an exciting time politically for the youth of Moldova, thanks to the president.      

A country that doesn’t exist

After a few days in Chișinău, it’s time to move on. Let the traveller beware: navigating public transport in Moldova takes skill. 

At the bus stop near the main train station, we’re met by multiple white mini buses, known locally as Marshrutkas.

These are Moldova’s primary form of public transport, operating as shared taxis across the country and on to Transnistria, our next destination. 

It’s exceptionally cheap, but there’s no real timetable, and the whole experience is pretty chaotic.

Armed with Google Translate, we approach a group of men (who we’re told are the bus drivers) and tell them where we want to go. We have to wait until the buses are full before we can leave.

Arriving in Tiraspol, Transnistria’s capital — where we’re subjected to more border checks — it feels like we’re stepping further back in time.

Sam said his experience of the former East was like walking into a time capsule (Picture: Sam Russell)

Transnistria, or Pridnestrovie, as it’s called in Moldova, is a breakaway region, formed after the fall of the Soviet Union. Internationally, it’s recognised as part of Moldova, but technically, it’s a country that doesn’t exist.

Located between the Dniester River and the Ukrainian border, it has an industrial feel. And just a few short hours are enough to reveal how much we take for granted in the Western world.

Transnistria has its own currency, but it’s not ratified. Some coins are even plastic. ATMs there don’t take Mastercard or Visa, so it’s a good job we got cash out before we arrived.

There’s also not much signal, meaning it’s essential to pre-plan your trip on Google Maps and have a list of phrases ready to go in Translate.

We’re met by Vlad, our hostel host and tour guide, who takes us exploring the Transnistria way.

With him behind the wheel, we start with a local beer tasting before making a pitstop at his mother’s house.

He needs his toolkit — apparently, in Transnistria, it’s OK to break into an abandoned school by removing a boarded-up window with a drill.

Sam enjoyed traditional working-class USSR grub (Picture: Sam Russell)

Later, Vlad takes us for lunch at a canteen where we dine on Borscht, a sour soup made with meat stock, vegetables and seasonings, and generous helpings of vodka. It’s traditional, hearty fare that was the standard dinner for workers across the USSR.

Boarding the sleeper train back to Bucharest, I consider what type of traveller this trip would appeal to.

If you don’t mind discomfort in exchange for living real-life history, it’s a must.

It’s an opportunity to experience travel as it was in the Soviet era, just as it happened all those years ago. 

10/10 recommend for adventurous travellers with an open mind, and who love finding beauty in the mundane.

As told to Sophie-May Williams.

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