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About Dubasari

Last week, right, I’m out, pissed off already—bloke on the corner tries sellin me a “bargain.” Bargain? You idiot sandwich! Looked like she’d been dragged through a bin—fuckin grim. I’m yellin, “Get outta my face, you muppet!” Made me ragey, mate, proper fumin—wastin my time on rubbish. Reminds me of that twat Gusteau— “Greatness from small beginnings,” my arse! Small beginnings don’t mean crusty tarts, yeah?

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We just think that increasing historical information about it and hiring a tour guide passioned about history who will escort the tourists around would really.

But then, outta nowhere, it starts pouring. Like, seriously? I’m soaked in seconds. I’m laughing, though. Just my luck, right? I duck into a café on Strada Călărași to dry off. I order a coffee, and the barista is super chill. We start chatting about life in Soroca, and I’m reminded of how much I love this city. The people, the culture, the quirks.

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