moldova Made for Each Other

Moldova is the least happy nation on the planet.

That’s not me talking. That’s the conclusion reached by Eric Weiner, who made the case for the former Soviet republic’s distress in The Geography of Bliss, the account of his world-wide search for happiness. Weiner, an admittedly grumpy fellow, visited Moldova -– it’s stuck between Romania and the Ukraine, two other dreary places -– in order to confront the “depths of misery to which I have not yet sunk.”

A nation’s prevailing mood can’t be reduced to a single source, of course, but Weiner blames at least part of Moldova’s gloom on a lack of money. He points out, for example, that there’s a McDonald’s in Chisinau, the nation’s capital, but it’s “prohibitively expensive for ordinary Moldovians.”

That statement says a lot about Moldova. And it’s not surprising, because the average per-capita income in Moldova is just $880, or about what we’d pay in my neighborhood for a decent set of golf clubs.

Not that it’s easy to find golf clubs in Moldova, unless you’re lucky enough to have internet service and can shop online. You see, Moldova doesn’t have any golf stores. It doesn’t need any, because it doesn’t have any golf courses.

Can you predict what’s coming next?

Yes, that’s right: The world’s most exasperating sport may soon arrive in the world's most dispirited place!

And if that’s not a reason to put a smile on a Moldovan’s sad face, I don’t know what is.

Last week, Moldova’s government announced that a group of Italian businessmen have acquired a 100-acre parcel near Chisinau, the nation’s capital, where they plan to build a resort-style hotel, a pair of sports centers, and a golf course. The facility would, I suppose, cater mostly to the tourists who visit Moldova, presuming there are any.

I don't suppose there are. The Wikipedia entry for tourism in Moldova is, literally, a mostly blank page. A travel-related website I stumbled across says that Chisinau has “a weighty Soviet feel” and “a distinctly dodgy criminal undertone,” while another says that a trip to Moldova will make you feel as though you’ve “stepped back in time.”

Maybe the Italians aren't up to speed on current travel literature.

They talked up their plan with Moldova’s prime minister and with Nicolae Juravschi, the head of Moldova’s Olympic committee. (Bet you didn’t realize there was one.)

“The construction of a golf field has been mooted for a long time, and we would like that things start moving,” Juravschi said after the meeting.

You heard it right. Moldova has actually been trying to build a golf course for years.

Back in 2003, the Golf Association of Moldova (bet you didn’t realize there was one of those, either) floated a plan to build the nation’s first golf course. The association, which had been founded in 1995, hired what it described as a “famous” Italian architect (someone named Azioli who I can’t find anywhere) to design an 8,472-yard course. (The idea, presumably, was to torture Moldova’s neophyte golfers.) The association also planned to build a golf school, a hotel, and other recreational attractions.

The association’s project was supposed to have been built on part of a 450-acre parcel in suburban Chisinau. It’s possible that the Italians will use this property, or at least part of it, for their golf course.

I can’t say for sure, because the Italians haven’t been identified -– Moldova has many state secrets -– and because I can’t find the golf association. Like much of Moldova, its website no longer operates.

My guess is that the association was created to build a golf course, and it fizzled out when its development plans lost traction. I hope I’m wrong, of course, and that the association's members are still out there somewhere, working to introduce golf’s inherent frustrations to their countrymen.

Because it somehow seems that Moldova is an ideal place for golf.