From Baltic to the Black Sea: TWC's Odyssey Through The ...

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At noon yesterday, I went to Chisinau's bus station to try catching a mini-bus ("mashut") to Tiraspol, capital of the rebel Transdnestrian Moldavian Republic. After a confusing 20 minute search for the bus, which included an examination of documents by two late teenage soldiers who asked for my passport either for mere fun or bribes, or both (common in the ex-USSR republics - but didn't pay any), I finally found the right bus.

The bus sped eastwards across the rolling hills of Moldova with their vineyards and endless sunflower plots. The journey was further made interesting by the presence of a semi-drunken gentleman who shared his vodka, sweets and pizza, and was lengthened by 15 minutes by a stop whereby everyone except me alighted just to buy watermelons at roadside stalls. I don't fancy bringing watermelons around war zones.

After 1 hour, it became clear that we were beginning to enter the conflict zone, as one encounters army roadblocks and occasional roadside graves for the soldiers killed in the civil war in 1992. Then came the final Moldovan roadblock with huge warning signboards. 100 meters away was the border post of the PMR (Transdnestrian Moldavian Republic in Russian abbreviations), with its red-green-red flag - basically the flag of the old Moldavian Soviet Socialist Republic, but minus the hammer and stickle.

I took a quick glance at the post and quickly drew the window curtains in case they notice a foreigner on the bus. The mini-bus stopped for less than a minute and then resumed. Two further roadblocks 100 meters down and nothing awful happened. I am now in PMR!

PMR, or Transdnestria, declared independence from Moldova in 1990 when it became clear that the Moldovans wanted to leave the USSR. When the USSR collapsed in 1991, rebellion broke out and many died in this civil war that left the economies of Moldova and mainly Russian/Ukrainian-inhabited PMR in shambles. With the help of the Russian 14th army under General Lebed, the Transdnestrians defeated the Moldovans and achieved de facto independence, although this was never recognised by anyone. While Moldova is beginning to recover and receive international aid, PMR sank further and average income there is US$10-15 per month.

The bus continued for another 1/2 hour to Tiraspol, the capital, passing numerous road blocks where nobody gave a damn about my presence, or checked my passport. The PMR flag flies everywhere and Russian signboards reign, as opposed to Romanian ones in Moldova proper. Lots of soldiers around - at almost every street corner. Tanks and armoured carriers as well, plus sandbags and mini-bastions or fortresses along the road to Tiraspol. The bus also passed a few Russian army bases.

Finally we reached Tiraspol Bus Station, where the chap sitting beside me surprised me by speaking to me in broken English, asking where I was going ( he had seen me reading Lonely Planet). Vladimir was an ethnic Ukrainian petroleum engineer previously working in Siberia. Moved here 7 years ago as this was his wife's hometown. He has no job now - common among more than 50% of PMR's population, though his daughter teaches English at a local school. His daughter, Nadia, has often dreamed of meeting foreigners - difficult in this isolated rebel state, and he wanted me to meet his daughter. It was difficult to find English-speakers in Moldova, especially in this rebel state, and so I jumped at the opportunity.

We walked through this small city - dirty and run-down compared even to many ex-Soviet states - not surprising. The state's broke, and there is little economic activity except smuggling. They issue their own stamps but have to affix Moldovan stamps in order to get them posted out of this mini-state. They have their own PMR Ruble, but inflation had rendered it more worthless than toilet paper - at least toilet paper has some utility value. PMRR 1 million = US$1 three months ago, and now it is PMRR 3.3 million = US$1. Worse than in Belarus!

Young people cannot find jobs and university graduates have to work as waiters (difficult as well, as lack of economic activity means few can afford to eat in restaurants) and hawkers. The internet has reached PMR, but mainly due to the efforts of matchmaking agencies, which put up pix of PMR ladies looking for foreign husbands on their websites.

Nadia was glad to see me and postponed her appointments - she was about to go out to interpret a letter. She then walked me around the city - lots of abandoned buildings and half-built ones. The economy had collapsed. The only well kept buildings are state buildings and the Orthodox Church with its new shiny domes. The Orthodox metropolitan or bishop of PMR is also building for himself a huge new palace in downtown Tiraspol.

We finally reached the huge Presidential Building with the statue of Lenin in front. A huge flag of PMR flew above. People have warned about taking photos here, but seeing no police around, I have decided to go ahead. Suddenly, a young man dressed in well-ironed suit ran out and asked us to go into the building. It was forbidden to take photos here, he said, and we need to hand over the film. Nadia was embarrassed and pleaded with him - everything goes on in Russian. I pleaded innocent, of course, though enjoying the adventure. I also said rhetorical things that one says while toasting Russian style - like, I have heard about your beautiful city and your freedom-loving people, and wanted to visit, blah blah - all bullshit.

I was asked to show my passport and they wrote my details onto their record book - which seems to have one or two entry everyday - all foreign semi-innocent offenders like me. Journalist, he asked? No, I'm a banker, specialising in putting companies together - and I tried to confuse them a little. Maybe I will get an interview from the rebel president - try to privatize our companies or something. Or get a cut from their smuggling activities. Maybe I can learn from the Bank of NY.

Eventually, he let me go (and films intact as well). Nadia apologised profusely to me. I felt really guilty although pretending to be an innocent tourist. Then we returned to their house where they drove me to the bus station, trying to catch a bus to the Gagauz Autonomous Republic - another part of Moldova which tried to breakaway but eventually chose to stay, and given autonomy as a result. However, the timing given to me earlier was wrong, and the last bus had already left. We took a pix together and then I took a bus for Chisinau.

This was a bigger bus and I sat at the back. Just behind me were two ladies who were rather scantily dressed and behaving intimately with each other - hugging and kissing throughout the two hour bus ride. This only stopped when the bus reached the ceasefire post when they quickly put on jackets and sat straight. Moldova might have abolished anti-homosexuality laws (per Lonely Planet) but obviously PMR retains everything that represents USSR. They have a reason to be discreet now.

A PMR officer came on board and I tried to turn aside, pretending to sleep. He walked past me and guess what, nothing happened. Nobody checked my passport on this trip! And that's the end of my adventure to Transdnestria/PMR.

regards,

Wee Cheng http://travel.to/weecheng