Retroactive Blogging: Transnistria and Moldova

So, back in February, before my trip to Central Europe, Z came to visit for 10 days. Having visited Kyiv back in November for Thanksgiving, I decided we should go somewhere else, instead of staying in Kyiv the entire duration. A plan evolved that we would go to Odessa for a couple of days. Of course, being February and all, Odessa is not much warmer than Kyiv. We intended to spend two nights/three days in Odessa, but after day one, discovering that most of the museums were closed and that the weather wasn't really nice enough to do any real wandering, I decided to drag Z along for a somewhat crazy, 24 hour adventure.

Now, if you're one of those people who still thinks Ukraine is in Russia, you've probably never heard of Transnistria. This breakaway republic that is technically part of Moldova seceded during the 1990s and claims allegiance to the Soviet Union, despite the fact that it no longer exists. Not large enough to sustain any real industry, Transnistria is primarily known for manufacturing weapons later sold on the black market (see the movie "Lord of War"). In recent months, there have been a couple bombings of buses, but we didn't know that until we got back and looked it up Transnistria on Wikipedia. Of some personal interest, a distant cousin of my mothers' side ended up in Tiraspol in the 1990s during the fallout. Her husband found work there and although he passed away, she remained in Tiraspol. Despite all of these factors, my interest in Transnisteria stemmed primarily from the fact that it is the only place in the world where the Soviet Union was still alive and well.

Early Thursday morning, Z and I took a bus from Odessa to Tiraspol (about a 2 hour drive), the capital of said, breakaway republic. Of course, at the border, we are asked to explain our business and were told that we could not pass through without a letter of invitation, despite the fact that several of my friends had recently visited without anything of the sort. Ultimately, we were bribed $30 USD in order to enter, even though you are technically only required to pay 60 cents for the slip of paper known as a "kvitansia" (the Transnistrian customs can't technically stamp your passport, since they are not officially recognized as a nation). Having brought only $20s, I explained that I did not have smaller bills, but, amusingly enough, the customs agent returns our passports with the appropriate documents and includes a crisp $10 bill.

We arrive in Tiraspol, exhange some money into Transnistrovian currency (technically, they call themselves Prednistrovians), buy a map and take walking tour. We stop at the Kvint Cognac factory, one of the only semi-legitimate sources of industry, the Sovietskyi Dom (Soviet House) and various monuments to the Soviet Union. Tiraspol is gray and depressed, more so than your average city in other parts of the FSU. The city is covered in pro-communist graffiti and there are several statues of Lenin. Remarkably, the hammer and sickle remains on most government buildings and doesn't seem to faze the locals, despite the fact that the emblemis over 15 past its prime. Amusingly,local papers pride themselves on freedom of speech, but headlines reveal blatant lies, praising the success of Russia and perpetuating fears of the West.

Having seen our fill, we catch a marshrutka (mini-bus) to Chisinau. It is a short ride to the border and we are again hassled by customs. This time, the Moldovan customs pulls us aside and asks us whether or not we are bringing any weapons into the country. Presumably, they believe Z is an American businessman who has come to buy AK-47s and I am his translator/mafia mol. After a brief conversation, they are sufficiently comforted that we are not international arms smugglers and let us continue on our way.

We arrive in Chisinau around 2pm, but are exhausted from schlepping and freezing, since neither of these buses had any heat and Z has been kindly dragging our luggage. We also realize that the currency we have, Prednistrovian rubles, are not considered valid anywhere outside Transnistria and, therefore, cannot be exchanged. I convince the bus driver to exchange them, and although we get a terrible exchange rate (1:1 instead of 1:1.75), we get something for them, which is more than we could have hoped for.

Outside the bus station in Chisinau is a open-air market and after a few minutes of wandering, we find a cafeteria style restaurant. Desperate for a place to warm up, we order some borscht, bread and 100 grams of vodka each. After a few minutes, our circulation and dispositions improve significantly.

Wandering around Chisinau reveals a much prettier city than I had imagined, much different than Kyiv and Moscow. Since Moldova was technically part of the Moldavian province of Romania untilthe 1950s, when it was annexed by Stalin, the architecture and layout of the city is considerably more Western. Besides the government buildings, which are essentially identical to those in Kyiv - socialist realist in style, minus the Ukrainian flag - Chisinau has a very different feel to it than Kyiv. The main boulevard is smaller, lined with trees, small shops and boutiques. We stop for some spectacular Moldovan wine before we continuing our adventure.

At this point, it starts to snow pretty hard. Although it made for a picturesque view of the city, most of my pictures came out blurry. We find the Moldovan restaurant a friend recommended and each have a different, delicious type of goulash. Our train back to Kyiv leaves around 11pm, so we stop for a drink before heading to the train station.

Blissfully, we have the kupe to ourselves. Although we still have to get through customs, we finally have a warm bed and some respite from a long day of schlepping and orienting. It is about 13 hours to Kyiv, but exhaustion makes overnight train rides fly by. Z and I reflect on the day's events and I ask him if he imagined, when we met in Brooklyn on New Year's Eve over a year ago, that I would drag him to the FSU, much less to a dangerous, fake republic at the edge of the earth. Of course, he says "no," but he gets it - there are many different realities in this world and seeing is understanding.