Apologies for the lateness of this chapter of the story. We were actually in Transnistria over seven months ago to put this in context for you, but we decided that just because it wasn't on time didn't mean we should skip this fascinating part of our trip.
On arriving in
Tiraspol, the Capital of this small breakaway nation, we struggled to find
anything resembling accommodation. While staying in Chisinau we had seen an
advertisement at our hostel for the apparently only backpackers in town, but
alas had not taken note of the address (not that it would have mattered we
later found). As we often did, we drove around looking for an unlocked internet
connection and upon finding one we searched the address and made a beeline for
it. We found a dark street with strange looking figures disappearing into the
darkness and crumbling bus stops, but no accommodation.
Back we went
to see if there was a phone number, there was! So we rang and an American
answered, agreed to meet us at a bowling alley (apparently the coolest place in
town) and then take us to the new site, a two room shack on the outskirts of
town. Apparently business hadn’t been so kind to this man. He took us to a room
with the smallest bed we had ever encountered, no internet connection, no real
facilities what so ever, just a rather cold miserable place and worst of all he
wanted $20 each! Per night! More than we would be happy to pay in London or
Paris let alone Tiraspol but it was getting late and we really had little
option, so our last question as always was “and what about the car?” to which
he suggested we just park it on the street.
We explained
we didn’t feel comfortable which such an arrangement, regardless of how low the
likelihood of a break in or theft was, we just didn’t want to take such a
chance and ruin our trip. He dismissed our concerns in a manner to which we
were all too used to. We didn’t know what we were talking about, we were
ignorant of realities and probably hadn’t been to many countries before and
shouldn’t apply our stupid Australian values of security to Transnistria, the
sorts of comments “maybe in Australia is dangerous but not here” was one of the
few things that made our blood boil. This was the deal breaker, we understood
he didn’t have parking but this was out of line and just plain rude. We told
him so and left.
We continued
driving and found the only 5 star hotel in the country, probably only in
existence for friends and cronies of the president of the day to stay and play
at, but they were extremely friendly and due to our budget suggested a place we
hadn’t otherwise stumbled across. We went there and it was great! It was
everything we could have hoped for in our wildest dreams! The Hotel Aist was
built in the 1950s and had everything one would want from a Soviet era hotel:
floor ladies, temperamental water pressure and temperature, prostitutes,
extremely scary lifts, crumbling balconies, and we were going to get proper
rooms with televisions (didn’t work) and showers (didn’t work well) for $20 per
double or $10 each! And better yet an old Russian man watched our car for an
extra $2,50 per night. Why would someone coming to Transnistria want to stay
anywhere else? This was a living breathing museum of what travel and accommodation
was like in days gone past.
After
unpacking and revelling in the excitement of everything finally falling into
place, we decided it was probably dinner time, but of course we didn’t have any
local money. In Transnistria they have their own currency, call the
Transnistria Ruble, which is used for small purchases, but electronics, cars
etc must be paid with US dollars, Euros or Russian Rubles. With all the
exchange shops closed we decided to inquire inside one of the casinos who
gladly changed our US dollars. This is something we did multiple times in
multiple casinos, always without hassle and always at the proper rate.
The
next day all we wanted to do was drive, drive and see everything we could,
every back street, every shop, every school, every police check. Despite the
shops still selling snickers and coca-cola, we just had to explore everything.
The museums were amazing; the Supreme Soviet (as their Government building is
still called) was grand with its Lenin bust front and centre. One museum of
particular note is that dedicated to Moldovan-born Grigory Kotovsky. Kotovsky
began his career as a scoundrel and gang leader involved in bank robbery, raids
and arson, which led to a chain of arrests and prison escapes and eventually
resulted in him being sentenced to death by hanging. He managed to escape his
sentence when the Russian Revolution kicked off, siding with the Communists of
Tiraspol. Kotovsky became a member of the Bolshevik Party and lived out the
rest of his days as an active member of the Moldovian Autonomous SSR in
Transnistria. Current day Transnistria holds his memory on a pedestal,
considering his work to be surmount to the independence of their country. The
ladies manning this museum were lovely; they let us wear his hats, shoot his
guns, sit at his desk and they took many photos for us, then as a parting gift
gave us some Soviet Badges for free. Now I’m not sure if this is a trick,
because we then asked if they had more and we spent a lot of Rubles buying the
rest of those that they had. One of the few let downs was the Kvint Factory.
Apparently known around the world as one of the great Brandies this attraction
was advertised everywhere, and it was one of the few things people told us of
before we got there. You must go to Kvint we were told, alas it was literally
just an alcohol shop, selling cheap drinks, and as none of us particularly
cared for Brandy, it was a short and brief stop.
While
exploring one of the suburbs we were stopped to look around an old park with
broken down, unused amusement rides. Across from where we parked was a bakery.
Throughout our planning and travels everyone would warn us of the risks of
taking the wrong photo. In Australia we even have advertising on television telling
people to be careful taking pictures overseas as it could land one in “hot
water”. Never were less true words spoken in regards to our experiences: missiles
in Iran, no problem, pictures of border crossings, no problem, taking a picture
of an old Soviet bakery in Tiraspol, problem. Within moments of taking the
picture and then walking off to explore elsewhere, two men were after me, asking
me why I had taken a photo. I told them I had taken a photo of my car, and luckily
of course the car was in the photo, albeit to the side and only partially, and
only due to my bad photo taking skills. Had someone else taken the photo (with
the exception of Tom) the car probably would not have been in it. I deleted the
photos regardless so that they would leave and allow us to continue. The
question of course arises, was it really loaves of bread being produced at this
bakery?
On
the third day, we decided to take a drive north through the country. As anyone
will know who has seen a map of Transnistria, there isn’t much in the way of
east or west. It is an extreme thin long nation, less than 50km’s across at its
widest point, while being several hundreds of kilometres long. We headed north
towards Grigoriopol and Dubasari. The roads were as expected, more pot holes than
solid tarmac, but we were surprised by the distinct lack of highway police or
road blocks. We approached one and slowed to a cautionary speed but continued
through as the officers barely gave us a look. Another disappointment of which
there were few was the lack of traditional restaurants. One can only assume
they eat traditional food at home and on the rare occasion they eat out want
something a bit exotic, one of the most popular restaurants in Tiraspol being Andy’s Pizza. Another night we ate at a
restaurant 7 Fridays, specialising is
Pizza and Sushi mainly. It was this
night we realised that maybe the locals were not cold but in fact quite unsure
of themselves and somewhat on the shy side. We pulled up out the front and
walked in, and there is no doubt we were different in this setting. After we
had left we got on the internet and found that the people sitting next to us
sent us a message via out website suggesting we chat. If only they had
suggested this in person rather than assuming we would be accessing the
internet while enjoying out meal!
The day we left we headed to the border with
Ukraine, this time a very well established border post with rather modern nice
buildings, they looked at our passports and waved us through almost
immediately, therefore ending our odyssey in a country that never was, or never
is, or one day will be? We’re not really sure, but regardless, those of you who
are Sovietphiles need not look any further than a holiday in Transnistria,
which were it not for Disneyland could be described as the happiest place on
earth (once again, only for those who really love Soviet Architecture and
Statues of Lenin and Russia Tanks patrolling the countryside.)
