Travel true. Be you!
Travel true. Be you!
Locals thought I was strange ’cause I wanted to visit their place.
I felt the stares when I wasn’t looking – like needles in my back. Meanwhile, the old Mercedes Sprinter kept its end of the bargain despite its obviously abused status and transported me and a mix of the local community slowly but steadily towards Transnistria, a place within Moldova with self-proclaimed independence, yet no official recognition by most countries. Moldovans had warned me not to go – too dangerous and ugly. The day before, a woman on the bus had tried to help me get out at the right bus stop within Chisinau – she spoke German and couldn’t understand why I wanted to visit Moldova, let alone Transnistria. Her mission was to get out and have a wealthier life in Germany; she dreamt of a life like the ones portrayed in magazines while I was trying to get away from it all. Here I was, hoping I hadn’t made a mistake. Embassy support wasn’t going to be available should I need it, and my travel bible, the Lonely Planet for Eastern Europe, wasn’t much help either.
After a seemingly endless 2.5 hour drive, we finally arrived, and I was cast out at a bus stop close to a market in Tiraspol. My plan had been to just change some money and take a cab.
Sadly, due to the diplomatic status of Transnistria, there had been no info on exchange rates and ATMs or credit cards weren’t an option – maybe it was an illusion, but I thought I saw a micro-expression of joy on the otherwise stern-looking face worn by hardship of the old lady who gave me my money.
A rip-off? Most likely, and yet I was relieved to be in a position to try and find someone to take me into town to my Airbnb. I knew the hosts would only speak Russian, but the place had a good reputation and there wasn’t much choice.
Finding a cab driver wasn’t exactly the same here as waving down a cab in Frankfurt or elsewhere. I asked with hands and feet for a driver, and one lady who seemed worried about me took pity and called a cab.
In her broken English, she told me the price – surprisingly high for a capital of this size. I think she also asked why I was here, as she kept gesturing to the ground and saying, “you why?”
I didn’t care about the overpriced fare. My thoughts centred on whether this friendly, toothless old guy who showed up – and his seemingly equally old car – were going to get me safely to my new home away from home.
When I arrived, the Airbnb host wanted me to pay everything in Euro – luckily, I insisted on paying half in Transnistrian rouble, as it’s not possible to exchange money back into internationally accepted currencies due to Transnistria not being officially recognised.
Once I had settled into my Airbnb, I tried to explore the nearby surroundings. I wasn’t really sure what to do – it was apparent that this city was not very wealthy, and I noticed that a lot of things were out of order or poorly repaired, possibly due to a lack of available financial resources.
I decided to get help to make the most of this intrepid experience and hired a guide – and I was lucky. The next day, I started with a half-day tour, but later extended it to a full day because I enjoyed myself. It was just the guide, a Brit, and me, so I could ask a lot of questions. The guide also spoke German and knew lots of German songs…
Before we started the tour, our guide gave us clear instructions: we could take photos, but not of the Russian soldiers that are omnipresent in Transnistria. We might also come across buildings where photography is not allowed.
I agreed to the terms of the tour – while I couldn’t take pictures of the soldiers, those memories will stay with me forever.
One time, I was about to take a picture, but luckily our guide stopped me in time – I hadn’t realised that the building in front of us was a government one! I had read online about rumours that if you violate no-photo areas, your camera may be confiscated with no chance of return – and naturally, I didn’t want to risk that.
Wherever we went, the signs of belonging to the former Soviet Union were unmissable – Lenin statues and busts were dotted across town and in front of important buildings. Signs of war were also apparent – one of the walls had a number of bullet holes.
Large concrete buildings with dozens of flats were the common way to live.
The hardship was visible in some of the faces I saw, and smiling in public didn’t seem to be part of everyday customs. The atmosphere made me a bit sad, as it was quite triste. However, our tour guide made sure we had a good time.
My Couchsurfing host in Chisinau had already told me that everything in Transnistria is owned by “Sheriff” – the supermarket, the petrol station, the soccer club… I hadn’t really understood what he meant at the time, but it became clear when we drove around. Sheriff has a monopoly in Transnistria, which was also echoed by our friendly, chatty guide.
Public transport was available but hadn’t been replaced in decades. Large concrete building blocks were the norm.
In the supermarket, beer was very cheap and sold in two-litre plastic bottles. Again, the hardship was visible in some of the faces I saw.
Food was typical for Russia/Moldova, and when we stopped for a meal I was pleasantly surprised – the local food wasn’t very expensive, yet it was very tasty.
The memorials all exhibited the grandeur that makes you feel small as an individual. Some of the streets in Tiraspol were big enough to land a Boeing 737 – presumably deliberately built to show the power of communism.
It was an eerie atmosphere, as not many people were on the streets, and those who were seemed to be from a different time, based on their clothing.
There are a few places that show the aspiration to bring culture to the population, such as the old theatre building.
We stopped at the spookiest playground I have ever seen before continuing to explore Transnistria further.
On our way to Bender to see the fortress there, I saw a playground from the car and asked whether we could stop for some pictures.
The British guy who was also on the tour said the playground looked like a small version of the abandoned amusement park in Pripyat – and he should know, as he had just been there prior to visiting Transnistria (my trip to Transnistria was in 2017).
The playground, despite its shattered state, was in use. When I look at the pictures, the sad feeling I had when I first saw it returns – and yet the images fail to fully capture the atmosphere and the poor condition of the facilities, presumably just due to a lack of money. Given the rust on the playground equipment, I wouldn’t consider it a safe area for children – even just considering the risk of tetanus. However, the children who were there seemed unaware of the danger and enjoyed themselves.
On our way to Bender, we had to take a vehicle ferry across the River Dniester.
The fortress itself is a fun, historic sight. There’s a giant cannonball that they encourage visitors to sit on for a photo, and the surrounding area is a popular spot for weddings.
The views from the fortress stretch far, offering a superb panorama of the landscape. From the top, it was even possible to see some military storage facilities.
After visiting the fortress, we returned to Tiraspol, and the next day I had to make my way back to Chisinau. They charged me twice as much as it had cost to get to Tiraspol and were not open to negotiation – they know you have no choice if you want to leave.
Regardless of that, I’m thankful I had the chance to visit this off-the-beaten-path destination in Europe.
