The sign says that the name of the street we were about to turn to was "Danish". I could understand it right away because they call me "Danezul" in the village, meaning "the Dane" in Romanian (even though I am only half Danish but "Norvegianul" is too long). They hate to pronounce "Bjorn" here (and their first take on it is "Bzhoooorn" as in "Bzhorn you look hot, do you want cock?" (see here)) and in general everyone goes by their nickname in the village.
For the locals the nicknames most often get born out of funny or unfortunate things that they did or that happened to them. For example, we have a guy whose father once stole a sausage from the butcher's shop as a kid so both his father and he are now "Cârnat", which means "sausage". Because those nicknames get passed down the generations (from father to son and from mother to daughter). So "our" kid is now "Danezul" too even though he is 100 percent Moldovan. This happened somewhat gradually, at first they started calling him "A lui Danezul" meaning "the Dane's" (as in "Whose kid is this? The Dane's.") but then they dropped "a lui" ("-'s") and he is now just "Danezul" like me. If he were a girl, he would get Helga's nickname which is "Englezoaica" (Ing-leh-zoh-ai-kah) meaning "The English woman / girl" (even though it is long and Helga is only half English but the international recognition of England's brand seems to be much higher than that of Norway's).
So we have boring geography-based nicknames because we are new here and haven't had much luck with stealing sausages from the butcher so far. That might change in the future because once you do something more hilarious then the thing that gave you your last nickname, the nickname is likely to change to reflect that new thing.
Anyway, the Danish Street had very little Danishness about it:
But it did finally lead us to the mechanic's house and we did hire him so that was good.