Into a nation that doesn't officially exist
Trip Start
Apr 08, 2007
1
105
144
Trip End
Oct 01, 2007
Tiraspol,
Moldova
Thursday, August 9, 2007
Transdniester is a strange little place, and its capital is exactly the kind of time-warped bastion of Soviet Communism that one would expect it to be. That is, if you can overlook all the small-scale capitalist enterprise, the brand-name goods, the shocking disparity between rich and poor, and the bafflingly large, brand-spanking-new stadium on the city's outskirts. The hammer and sickle isn't passé in the least here. Lenin still adorns wall reliefs and glowers over main streets. Red is by far the color of choice for any sort of banner or flag. An immaculately kept Soviet tank sits bang in the center of town beside an eternal flame to the "martyrs" of the 1991 civil war. Hell, even Ché's image takes centerstage in the window of the local political school (gotta have street cred, right?). Socialism never died in Transdniester (apparently neither did the USSR, for that matter!).
I've already had my fill of police harassment in Chisinau; I escaped it by a hair yesterday, then watched an Asian tourist get picked on instead. Transdniester is supposed to be many times worse in that regard, so rather than deal with the hassle, I went with a local companion. The one sour point is that it cost me an extra €30 (not to mention the additional transport costs - some $8-10). Realistically, I quite possibly could have done it for cheaper on my own, but then there's no guarantee I would have even gotten in had I gone that route. This way all - well, most - of the unpredictability was taken out. Natasha, my companion, still had to lie to the border police and say we were in transit, in order to avoid having us get bounced because of some arbitrary decision by a cranky officer. Transdniester's official "rules" seem to change according to weather patterns, omens, lunar cycles or some other nonsense.
The "transit" status limited us to a mere three hours in the region, which meant I had to settle for a speed tour. Natasha kept saying that we wouldn't have time to see and do this or that, but I pushed her onwards and managed to see most of the town in the time available. It helps that I'm not the type of tourist to dawdle over which souvenirs to get or what trinket would best encapsulate the brief experience. Photos tend to do the job best, I find (and, hey, Natasha took a shot of me by the tank to memorialize the moment). But I did end up buying one small thing - a bottle of cognac from the locally (and, I'm sure previously nationally) famous Kvint factory. Best of all, I got to do it with the funny money that is the Transdniestrian rouble, as Moldovan currency isn't valid in town. The most comical thing about it is that it's actually valued higher than the Moldovan lei - 8.5 to the dollar instead of 12! Again, disregard the fact that it's worth slightly less than toilet paper once you step back into the real world. Artificial strength of a banana republic's currency or no, I ended up paying just over $1.50 for what is supposed to be pretty fine cognac. Ahh, the glory days of Communism indeed.
There's not really a ton for the curious tourist to see in old Tiraspol, but it is a very interesting place to spend a few hours in. Apart from the kitsch value (wholly unintended, of course), it is largely a place that people visit just to say they've been there. Fair enough . . . I suppose I'm one of them. To some degree, one of the oddest things about it is how "normal" it can seem - it's only the outsiders that take such fascination with the place. Everyone else is too busy going about their lives and undoubtedly trying as hard as they can to stay out of the political situation. I'm glad I decided to check it out though - it's always nice to know that there are still wacky places out there (other than North Korea and Turkmenistan) where the outside world might as well be on another planet. I'd hate to be one of the locals though!
