Motorcycles, Rain, and Rare Wines: Golaniada 2025, An Adventure Without Borders

After a long winter—well, not exactly winter, more like an extended cold autumn—May finally arrived. The month when the Hai Huieni gather from all corners for the most anticipated ride of the year. Everyone eagerly awaited the departure for Hai Hui, and this year's theme was "Golaniada" — a name that always makes me laugh, more of an artistic flair than anything else.

The ride began early Friday morning with a meetup at KM 49 on the Sun Highway, as we planned a small detour through the Republic of Moldova to visit our Moldovan brothers. By the way, at KM 49, if you look carefully, you might spot the sticker "Place reached by Hai Huian." I challenge you to send me a picture if you find it!

After gathering, we organized into groups and embarked on our adventure. From the outside, seeing over 25 motorcycles riding in a column is spectacular. But from within, it is even more impressive. Each rider, once in the group, becomes one with it — and that's not a metaphor. Imagine this: I put on my leather jacket, which creaks slightly, put on my helmet, and suddenly, silence falls. I turn on the ignition, press the starter button, and feel the handlebar vibrating, followed by the distinct scent of burnt fuel. I scan for my group — I'm riding with OmBun's group, in position 4, behind Doc and Nemu, with Ceack and MaiNea behind me. When OmBun gives the signal, we start riding. On the road, each member is fully focused on the rider ahead, protecting them and maintaining the optimal distance. Riding in tandem feels like a waltz or a perfectly synchronized tango. If society functioned like this, everything would work much better.

We reached the border with the Republic of Moldova. The place seemed deserted, and I was struck by a philosophical thought inspired by John Lennon's song "Imagine": what if there were no borders and wars, and our only worries were to support our families and leave something good behind? Snapping back to reality, my eyes fell on the aged asphalt and the weathered customs booths. It felt strange to have a border between two nations sharing the same language and culture.

While waiting for our documents to be checked, I chatted with two curious Moldovans about our route. When I mentioned we were heading to Purcari on the M3 highway, they burst out laughing: "What highway, sir? You're not in Romania! There's no highway in Moldova," one of them said, laughing heartily. I insisted, "But it shows M3 on our GPS!" They kept laughing even harder, and I remained convinced, while they enjoyed their laughter.

After the documents were cleared and we snapped a photo with the customs officers, we set off towards Purcari. The first kilometers in Moldova were rough due to the poor asphalt, with our bikes often airborne rather than on the ground. Nemu repeated last year's experience: his headlight fell off again, fixed later with plenty of duct tape. However, at Purcari, we received an incredible welcome, with delicious food and exquisite wine tastings. The hospitality of the Moldovan people was unmatched, making me realize how warm and generous they truly are.

The next day, we headed to Chisinau, curious to experience the city's vibe. Lunch at a traditional Moldovan restaurant was quite a challenge, as the table overflowed with delicacies. We could have used a character like "Flămânzilă" from Romanian folktales to help us finish all the food. We picked at the dishes like little sparrows, and what we couldn't eat, we took to-go. Later, we visited Mileștii Mici, home to the largest wine collection in the world, an impressive labyrinth of underground galleries stretching approximately 200 km.

That evening, in downtown Chisinau, we stumbled upon the Romanian Traditions Festival, but the rain quickly sent us back to the hotel. The following day, still in the rain, we explored the Cricova Wine Cellars, strolling through famous underground streets and admiring rare wines, including a bottle from 1902. Tiraspol remains another story to be told over a glass of wine.

From Chisinau, we crossed back into Romania, heading towards Vatra Moldoviței. We were reminded of how beautiful our country is, with winding roads and fairytale-like landscapes. Bucovina greeted us warmly, and although the rain persisted, it didn’t dampen our spirits. Due to the weather, we took the shortest route, but we still arrived soaked. Our hosts welcomed us perfectly, and after a night of rest and storytelling, we dried our clothes.

The next day, well-rested and eager for adventure, we set off again, hoping to escape the rain. Our original route was supposed to be spectacular: Vatra Moldoviței – Pojorâta – Transrarău – Broșteni – Frasin – Gura Humorului – Pipirig – Bicaz, but the rain forced us to take a more direct route to Bicaz.

Riding through the Bicaz Gorges took our breath away, as always. The scenery was incredible, and the group's quietness, amplified by the wet asphalt and heightened focus, created a unique atmosphere. It was a profound silence, more felt than heard, connecting us to the road and nature around us.

In Richiș, a picturesque village, we stayed in traditional houses and enjoyed a hearty feast with music and good cheer. The next day was special for me, as in every Hai Hui adventure, there are always unexpected twists and changes — some riders join, others leave; everyone is free to choose their path and how long they stay. This time, my cousin and I left together, he heading to Craiova and I to Bucharest, to prepare for my Erisma graduation — a deeply personal and emotional journey. We rode together as far as Râmnicu Vâlcea, where we parted ways. I arrived home that evening and started working on my speech. I was also delighted to have my son visiting from the Netherlands for a short vacation. Words can't capture the joy a parent feels seeing their child again.

Late that night, while preparing, I had a funny mishap: my son had used my electric razor and forgot to reset it. Instead of trimming my beard, I ended up shaving it off entirely! I smiled, thinking that my new look somehow suited the speech I was about to deliver.

The morning came with great emotions, and the speeches from my Erisma colleagues deeply impressed me. I was happy to discover that Romania still has many valuable people. My speech, naturally, didn’t come out exactly as written, but it came from the heart, just as it should.

Speech from Erisma Graduation:

Civic Engagement – A Continuous Responsibility

Good afternoon, my name is Laurentiu Bogdan.

We all know that change is the only constant. Yet, many times, we act as if it isn't so.

I fondly remember how, before '89, I used to go to the "Cafea" shop to buy freshly ground coffee. I would press the warm bag against my cheek, enjoying the intense aroma. Or how, during winter, I would get one banana a day—savoring it slowly to make it last longer.

But beyond these warm memories, I recall the evenings when my parents would listen to Radio Free Europe, in hushed tones, with the doors tightly shut. I was just 14 in 1989. I didn’t understand everything, but I knew it was good that Ceaușescu had fallen. There was a feeling of hope and freedom.

After the Revolution, tough years followed, with everyone trying to get by. We got used to democracy, but we made a mistake: we believed it would sustain itself.

We focused on our careers, our families, our personal growth. We worked, we evolved—but who took care of democracy?

And we keep forgetting that change is the only constant. But if we don't get involved, change will come without us, or worse, against us. And when we don’t engage, we risk weakening, even losing, democracy.

Sure, we vote every four years. But is voting enough to keep democracy alive?

Looking back at the last 35 years, the answer is clear: no.

Democracy isn't just about elections—it's about active, constant involvement: asking questions, participating in community life, not leaving decisions solely to others.

Fortunately, today we have easier tools than ever to get involved.

We can take part in online public consultations, sign digital petitions, contribute to community projects or local civic initiatives. We can write to authorities, express opinions on social platforms, and support NGOs or causes we care about.

Civic engagement doesn't need to be a huge effort, but it does need to be constant.

I repeat: change is the only constant.

And if we don't get involved, change will come without us.

We must be the change.

Democracy isn't a show where we are mere spectators—it’s a daily responsibility, for each and every one of us.

Thank you!

After returning from Erisma, still full of emotions and with my heart lightened by the speech, I hit the road again. This time, alone. I got back on the motorcycle, my mind replaying all the recent experiences, my heart still buzzing from the speeches, and my freshly shaven face making me smile, thinking about the funny incident with my son.

Drumul până la Rocker's Inn, undeva între Moldova Nouă și Oravița, la Sasca Montană, a fost o adevărată terapie. Am ieșit repede din București și am început să admir Clisura Dunării, unul dintre cele mai spectaculoase locuri din România. Pe tot parcursul drumului, abia dacă am întâlnit câteva mașini. M-am bucurat de fiecare curbă, fiecare rază de soare și de liniștea aceea specială care te învăluie atunci când ești singur pe două roți.

The journey to Rocker's Inn, located between Moldova Nouă and Oravița in Sasca Montană, was truly therapeutic. I quickly left Bucharest behind and started to admire the Danube Gorge, one of Romania's most spectacular places. Throughout the entire route, I barely encountered any cars. I enjoyed every curve, every ray of sunshine, and the special kind of peace that envelops you when you're riding solo.

I ended the day with an incredible sunset, with the sun sinking behind the hills, painting a scene that looked straight out of a postcard. At Rocker's Inn, my friends were waiting for me with a cold beer and a warm meal set aside just for me. It’s comforting to know that, no matter how far you travel, the HOG family always welcomes you with open arms.

The next day was dedicated to relaxation. We shared stories, laughed, reminisced about the trip, and began planning our next adventure, which was just a week away: a journey through the Balkans all the way to Istria.

The Hai Huieni Tour 2025 ended, as always, with a full heart, with memories that will stay with me for a long time, and with the promise that the adventure continues.