Crossing the river

Transnistria, or "Over the river Dnestr", is really a part of Moldova, but operates like an independent country. It is not recognized by anyone else, but they have their own currency, border control, and government. Which is kinda stalinistic. Although I could not see much of that when I visited. It was more or less like any other country
When I booked the hotel in Tiraspol, the capital, I found there were two available on the internet. One that I got the impression was so bad you would rather sleep on a bench in the park, or a high quality VIP hotel. I opted for the latter. "Hotel Russia". But of course...
Getting to Tiraspol meant I went to the central market in Chisinau and looked for marshrutkas. I wandered around for quite a while without finding any. But as I was close to giving up, one drove straight past me. I ran after it, and it stopped outside the market. I got my ticket and found a seat in the back. Better room. Or so I thought. Until the last passenger arrived. A woman who obviously liked desserts, to put it mildly... She sat down beside me, and I was squeezed between her and the guy on the other side. Warm and cozy... Not. But it was only a few hours ride anyways.
We stopped at the border, and I had to go to a small boot to get my entry card. Or note. The guy behind the counter spoke a little English, so I managed to give him all the info he needed. And he printed out a card that allowed me to enter and stay for 48 hours. I was only staying less than 24 hours. So I was happy with that.

Unsurprisingly, there wasn't any significant changes in scenery as we drove into Transnistria. I had no idea where the hotel was, or where the marshrutka stopped, so I just sat watching where I was and when we stopped at something that looked like a market in Tiraspol, I got off.
I stood there by the street as the van drove off. I looked around at the people and the buildings. The noise from the marked inside the building behind me told me this was a major place where people met. I snapped a photo of the houses across the street before entering the market. It was huge, and they sold everything from tea leaves to homemade honey soap. I love the smell of food markets in the morning.

Honey!

More honey, and honey soap

 

After enjoying the buzzing market for a while, I started to walk towards my hotel. I had downloaded the map of Tiraspol using the wifi in Chisinau. Tiraspol isn't exactly the largest city in the world, so it didn't take long before I stood in front of the "VIP" hotel.
I was met by a friendly receptionist, who greeted me in Russian. "Hi, I have a reservation!" I said. She smiled a bit embarrassed. "Ah.... eeeerrr.... No England! Moment!" she said and ran to get someone who did speak "England". A less smiling woman appeared.
"Yes?"
"I have a reservation!"
"Passport!"
Clickety-clickety-click!
"Yes you have!".... (I imagined her saying "The computer says NO!"..)
Clickety-clickety-click!
"No breakfast! But cost for good breakfast in hotel!"
"No thanks..."
"Hmmmm..."
Clickety-clickety-click!
"Room-key. Put in lock. Door open. Elavater over zer! Have nice stay!"
I smiled, nodded and walked towards the elevator. It took me a few floors up. Room key. I put in lock. Door open! Simple instructions... The room was very nice. The view, not so much. I checked out the TV. Not surprisingly, it had a load of Russian speaking channels. But they also had Discovery channel. Dubbed by the least engaging Russian speaking guy they could find. Nice... But I wasn't here for enjoying the room, or watching TV anyway...
I walked out into October 25th avenue and sought out the few things I had found on the internet might be good photo-ops. An old tank parked on a small knoll beside the street, some Lenin statues and a war memorial place.
On my way there, I passed a restaurant with a bit cheesy name. See if you can spot it...

The tank was placed near the war memorial, with a small church-looking building. Behind it, a war memorial. Commemorating the fallen in Afghanistan and in the war with Moldova. Transnistria still isn't recognized as an independent country, but they have an "agreement" with Moldova to just live in peace. Too much bloodshed to bother about a small strip of land east of Dnestr. Which, by the way, ran right beside the monument...

After taking photos of statues and buildings, I just walked around in any street I found. Searching for the unexpected, and the expected. Churches, houses.

Selfie-spot?

Like, Disney? Capitalist imperialism in Stalin country?

25th of October avenue

Are they branching out?

And the Eiffel tower. "Wait what?" I stood the watching this scale model for a while. Almost transfixed by the fact that in one back street, in a nowhere part of town, this scale model was standing. Several meters high. Oh, well.

One thing I loved, were the otherwise rundown old houses had beautiful colours. I took several pictures of them. So these are the United Colors of Tiraspol.

In the evening, I decided to check out a restaurant that was said to be the best in town. The "Kumanek". I sat down, and a Russian speaking girl came to my table. When she realized I didn't speak Russian, she went to get someone who spoke "England".
I ordered the steak with mashed potatoes, and a homemade berry icecream for dessert. A few minutes later, she came with a small entrê. A snack. Quite spicy. And a shot of something homemade. Yikes! That stuff put hair on your chest. And probably your tongue as well...

After a while, my steak arrived. I have to admit; this is one of the best steaks I have ever had. Juicy, perfectly prepared and so tender you could probably chew it with your eyelids. And the mashed potatoes? Out of this world! If I hadn't been full after the meal, I would probably have ordered another round.

And the ice-cream was a refreshing end to the meal. I left with a huge tip on a table and big smile on my face.

I walked back to my hotel for the night. Just popped in to "Sheriff" (a "dear leader" owned chain of everything...) to buy some snacks and drink. Retiring to my hotel room, watching Russian dubbed Discovery while eating locally produced snacks.

The next morning, I went out and bought some breakfast at the supermarket before checking out. I had seen what I wanted to see, so I just planned to go to the train station to catch a marshrutka back to Chisninau.
Before I left, I wanted to buy some old coins. These aren't just old coins, they are made from a plastic composite material. I believe these are the only coins made in this way. A few years ago, metal prices were soaring, and Transnistria decided making coins out of metal was too expensive, so they used a plastic composite instead. I had hoped I would get some of these as change when buying stuff, but it never happened. I asked at the hotel, and they had a small souvenir collection of these coins. I bought it.
But when I walked into the market I had been the day before, an idea came to me. I went to all the small shops and money changers, showed them the coins in the souvenir. Some of them shook their heads, while others smiled and found one, two or a bunch of coins from wallets, paper cups or hidden underneath a bunch of stuff. They were more than happy to get rid of them, since they are no longer in use. I bought everything I could lay my hands on before I went to the train station to take the marshrutka back to Chisinau. I exchanged them 1-1 with modern coins and notes.

I felt happy. And after buying some snacks and drink for my trip, I walked to the train station to catch a ride.

The trip back was eventless. I just sat in my seat, watching the beautiful landscape as we drove by.

Leverage

"No! No! No electronic! Paper!"
I was going through passport checks at the international airport in Moscow. The lady behind the counter did not want to see my electronic ticket. She demanded paper. I said I didn't have any. She pointed me to a lady behind a counter in a small room next door. I walked over and she hammered my info into her computer, and a few minutes later, she had my boarding pass ready. Luckily I was in no hurry. Unlike some Vietnamese people standing in line behind me. They all needed "paper". And they were increasingly agitated and obviously in a hurry. I walked through passport checks again. She looked at my boarding pass. "Shishni?" she asked. "Pardon?" I replied, a bit puzzled. "Shishni". I was trying to decipher what she was saying. "I am sorry, I don't speak Russian." For the first time, she smiled. Stupid tourist... "You go to Shishni?".....Silence...."No....I....eeerrrr.....OH! Yes! I am going to Chisinau!" She handed me back my passport and boarding pass. Next, securiy check. "Boarding pass and passport please!". I handed them to a lady who checked my boarding pass against a list of flights. She shook her head. "You leave from here?" she asked. "Yes!". She conferred with some other people. They shook their head. I was starting to think I might have mistaken the date. But checked again. No, it was correct. And the airport was correct. After some discussions between the people in security, I was let through. I instantly checked the boards for my flight. There it was. Chisinau, Moldova. I walked to the gate in order to locate it. I normally do, just to make sure I don't have to search for it last minute.
As I was standing at my gate, the bunch of Vietnamese people came hurdling down to an adjacent gate for the flight to Hanoi. They had started boarding. The last one, an older guy, was helped by some airport staff. He just made it. They closed the gate behind him.
At another gate a couple was arguing with the ground staff. They had arrived after the gate was closed. Flight to Havana. They tried to argue that the plane still hadn't left the gate, so there was no reason they couldn't be let on board. The guy behind the counter tried to stay calm and explain that their luggage had already been offloaded and the plane was ready to leave. So it would delay them a lot to revert that. The lady screamed in his face that their Russian visas was expiring, so they had to be on that plane. The guy was untouched. Then the plane was pushed back from the gate, and the woman started screaming at the top of her lungs, pulling her hair. My Rule number 1 for travelling : Always show up early at the airport. Always locate the gate as soon as possible. Always go to the gate well before boarding time. Sounds like a good rule to me.
Not much to do at the airport, except eating, watching RT propaganda and watching passengers from all over the world going to and fro. And I had a few hours to kill. So I spent much of it walking around before my flight was ready to board. The trip to Moldova was eventless.
We landed in Chisinau just before midnight. I had already sent an e-mail to the hotel explaining that I would arrive late. They had thanked me for the information, and would be ready for me. I walked through passport control and customs. I changed some Euros to Moldovan Lev and started looking for taxis. In the arrival hall, I found a counter for taxis to the city centre. I booked one, and a young guy came a picked me up.

Soon, we zoomed out of the parking lot. I looked out the windows. "Wait what?" We zoomed past an old Tupolev parked on a lawn at the airport. But I didn't get to see much of it as my driver was hellbent on setting a new speed record (the above image was from when I left). Or so it seemed. He drove on what looked like sideroads and through a forest. I was wondering why he wanted to drive there, as I assumed it would be faster on the main road. But then I realized that the whole city was enclosed in a big forest. "This city!" the driver said and pointed forward. I didn't see any city for all the trees. And before I could comment any more, he tore across the road and into a parking lot. "Your hotel!" he said and pointed to an office building. I looked at it. "This?" He nodded. I got out, and sure enough. High up on the wall was the name of the hotel. Interesting.
I paid the driver and he burned out of the parking lot and disappeared in the night. The night fell silent. Only some distand cars. A slight chill. I walked up to the entrance, and rang the bell. Looked at my phone. After midnight. No answer. I rang again. Still no answer. Then again. And again. Maybe I should have brought a tent. I picked up my phone and found the phone number for the hotel. It rang a few times before a sleepy voice answered. "I am standing outside the door, and have been ringing the door bell a few times!". "Ah...eeeerrr...I am up! I come down!"
A few minutes later, a sleepy face greeted me and we walked up the beautiful wooden stairs to the hotel. Which was on the top floor. I checked in and got the room at the end of the corridor. The room was big, comfy and with its own balcony. Of the type you could feel was moving when you walked out on it. Very comforting. After taking in the view and some fresh air, I crashed onto the bed. Wrapped the nice and fresh-smelling duvet around me and slept.
I hadn't really made that much plans for the trip. It was a bit fo a spur of the moment I decided to go here for a long weekend. So I knew that I would only stay in Chisinau, and also take an overnight trip to Transnistria. A country that isn't recognized as an independent country. It is part of Moldova. But more on that later. In Chisinau, I just wanted to look around and see what I could find. But one of the things I wanted to see, was an old Soviet relic. A concert hall that used to be very popular during the Soviet era. At the height of the popularity, it hosted more that 50 concerts per year. It has fallen into disrepeair and nature was threatening to take over completely. But they have been trying to revive it.
I woke up early, far too early. I looked at the clock and sighed. Tried to sleep some more. But in the end I gave up. Had a shower and sat down in my bed looking at the map of the city, trying to figure out where the concert hall was. Much to my surprise, it was very close by. I hadn't planned it, but my hotel was close to most of the stuff I wanted to see and do. So I was happy about that. When the time was right, I got up from bed and had my breakfast in the reception area. A bowl of cereals, some bisquits, and some toast. I was ready to roam the city.
The first thing I saw after leaving the hotel, was the rotting corpse of a dog that obviously had been hit by a car. Nice! But apart from that, it was a nice walk. I soon found the concert hall and spent some time taking photos of it. It was clearly a beautiful design, althought it was obvious that it wasn't the most renovated place here. Broken windows, concrete pavings falling apart, shrubbery moving onto the building itself.

Walkway under the road

With stores...

The concert hall

Some sort of football monument?

As I earlier wrote I didn't have much of a plan, so I just walked around the city, into parks and watched churches and monuments. Ate delicious kebabs and other food. Watched people and just enjoyed myself.

People running for their life, 100 meters ahead

One park I wandered into, had frogs that sang insanely loud. At first, I thought it was a lot of ducks. But I soon realized, it was the frogs. I stood amazed for a while, trying to record and film the frogs in the reeds. They weren't even big. They were a few cm long. But when they sang, it was loud and intense!

Really wonderful walk in this park.

 Some guys where fishing in the water. Others where sunbathing on the shores.

The frogs in this water were insanely loud!

Transport to Norway???

"Russian" embassy?

 In another park, I walked past what looked like a fair. But it was in such a sad state I felt black and white photos were the only things that could do it justice. A couple of kids rode some of the carusels. But otherwise. Nothing much happened there.

This fun fair was so run down, I felt black and white was appropriate...

Street statues

Orthodox priest

Arch of triumph? With Moldovan flag

Oslo wasn't on this. Disappointing...

Street vendor selling kittens

The force is strong with this painting!

Aaaawwwww!!!!

Patriotic cigarettes...

The central marked where you could also find transport

Naf said!

Street art

Old Soviet monument?

On the last day, I spent some time buying souvenirs. Old Soviet era relics. Once the pride of the people, now for sale for a few euros. I bought a bunch of old Soviet space pins. And some other things for my family at home.
Chisinau was a nice place to visit. Friendly people. Lots of sights, and good food. All the ingredients of a nice weekend. Which this was. I probably should have spent more time travelling the country, but this was a spur of the moment. So it was just a long weekend. And I had one other place to visit during the few days. Transnistria. But that is for another entry.

Tashakor

The plane was zooming into the air. From my seat in business class, I looked back at Kabul as it disappeared behind us in the mist. A week ago, I had expected I would sit with a relief in my heart. Relief that I could leave. Unscade. Instead, I sat with a sense of gratitude. Gratitude of what I had experienced these short days. With a slight nervousness when I arrived. To the final taxi-ride to the airport. When everything around me was beginning to become familiar.
It was a feeling that I have had before. Many years ago. It was a wonderful feeling. A feeling of exploring. Not just traveling. Not just hopping into a place for a few days to have a stamp in my passport and a few lines and images on this blog. But really exploring. Being in a place few have been. Seeing things that few others have seen. Collecting stories few others have. And I loved it. And I survived to tell the tale. The image below, I took through the bathroom mirror before I left the apartment. The smile on my face is real. I was happy. Not just to leave, but happy about the whole trip.

Although I didn't get to see and feel the dangers lurking in this city, it is obvious to anyone who wants to see, that this city isn't safe. No matter what people want you to believe. I could claim that since I survived, it must be completely safe. But many people, even soldiers in the battle zone, survive war. Doesn't mean war is safe.
I did get to see something that I have seen so many times before. On many levels. In many countries. And for many reasons. People tend to want to survive. To exist. We live, and do everything we can to live. No matter how bad things are, we really want to survive. How we go about surviving, is different in different countries and situations. But the will to live is within us all. And seeing people picnicking in the park in Kabul, or people enjoying themselves around the Blue Mosque in Mazar, are etched into my mind as joyful moments.
It is understandable that many may be on the edge here. Attacks happens regularly. Like I wrote about my first evening in Kabul. The lights went out. I later learned the Taliban had blown up a pylon just outside the city. And when US defence secretary James Mattis visited Kabul last year, the Taliban shelled the airport a couple of hours later.

Looking back, it does feel strange to have been in this almost mythical country. But I am glad I went. I have met wonderful people. Seen wonderful places. Eaten wonderful food. This trip is something that will stay with me for a long time. And it has revived in me the same spark for travelling I had many years ago. But also made me acutely aware, as I have written before, how lucky I am to have won the birth-lottery. Some may think they deserve what they have. I have come more and more to see it as a lucky draw. I was born in a free country. Not because I deserved it, but because I was lucky.

On a last note : It was obvious as we walked and drove through the city, that there is a delicate balance here. Heavily armed police and soldiers on regular intervals. Signs saying "Police iron ring such and so". I later thought about all I have read about Afghanistan and heard from locals, that the relative peace and quiet in Kabul is much like holding a cyanide capsule between your teeth. Perfectly safe as long as you don't break it.

So is coming to Afghanistan something I would recommend? Absolutely not. Afghanistan is a dangerous place. There are shootings and bombings at irregular intervals. Hundreds of people are killed and injured every year. For all practical purposes, it is a war zone. Although a relatively "quiet" one. So this place is something I cannot recommend. But if you have a lot of experience in traveling, is not a thrill-seeker, and listens to advice from either locals or ex-pats, you have a relatively good chance of staying alive. But there is a warning to everyone even considering this place : With attacks happening everywhere, even if you are not the intended target, you may end up dead. Being at the wrong place at the wrong time. A bomb or shootings. Most people killed here are "collateral". And sometimes, the collateral fatalities far outnumbers the actual targets.
Welcome to Afghanistan.

Ragnar
Checking out of the war zone