Transnistria had long been on my mind. A Russian-speaking and Russian-occupied unrecognised territory within Moldova, full of communist symbols and memorabilia – it sounds different. Moldova itself is planning to join the EU by 2030. The country, trapped for so long in Russia’s “sphere of influence”, now wants to join the European mainstream.
But when it comes to Transnistria, the Foreign Office advises against all travel there since there are no consulates and Britain doesn’t even recognise Transnistria as a country. And then there’s the war in neighbouring Ukraine. But all this just made me want to visit even more.
While doing some research on the internet, I got bored. And so I went on Grindr. Having browsed through some of the profiles, I stumbled upon a handsome guy with a bio in three different languages, and the English version said: “If you want to visit Transnistria, hit me up.” I decided to send him a message.
It was all planned: he would pick me up in a car from my hotel in Moldova and take me to Transnistria. With my very rudimentary Russian and the fact that there are few English speakers over there, it seemed like a good idea. My work colleagues were a bit alarmed by my plans.
In Chișinău, the Moldovan capital, my phone buzzed with a notification that a car was outside. A driver was waiting with another tourist, a girl from Poland. It made me wonder how she managed to get hold of my guide, Serghei. She explained that he was messaging people on CouchSurfing advertising the trip. “How did you find him?” she asked. I said just one word: “Grindr”. She laughed and admitted that perhaps she ought to try it if it led to such exciting excursions.
It’s an hour and a half from Chișinău to Transnistria and it felt strange crossing a border that does not exist on a map. Our passports were checked, but instead of getting a stamp, which the officials there cannot do as the country is unrecognised, we were each given a migration card – a bit of paper that looked like a shopping receipt and which had to be returned when leaving the country.
Serghei showed us all the main attractions in the capital city of Transnistria, Tiraspol, as well as the fortress in the town of Bendery. He spent his childhood there, and his family still live there. There are not many places in the world where you still see Soviet architecture or well-maintained statues of Lenin. We had lunch in a Soviet canteen, and as we ate, the paintings and photos of Lenin and Leonid Brezhnev stared down at us. Later, outside on the terrace, I had a pint of beer. It cost 90p.
We decided to get some souvenirs from this non-existent country. Serghei led us to a shop in the back of a local bookstore, which sold Russian and Transnistrian flags, fridge magnets featuring Putin, and also plastic money. Before Transnistria built its own mint, it had money printed in Poland, which caused a bit of a scandal in Europe. Eventually Poland refused to print more money for Transnistria and, as a temporary solution, the country introduced plastic money. I opted for a bottle of Kvint, the local cognac.
Transnistria is a quiet country, clean and tranquil. In comparison, Chișinău is much more chaotic. In Tiraspol there was hardly anyone on the streets and the cafes on the main street were almost empty. It felt very strange, a bit like going back in time even. There were adverts and posters in Russian, and the statues and slogans surrounding me represented a former era. It felt like being in a Soviet Union theme park, except everything looked real. Would I go back? Yes – for some reason, I would.
Originally from Poland, Dariusz Dankowski lives and works in London
