Monday morning I left the Komsomolskaya hotel, and true to form no one working there had any clue whatsofuckinever as to how I might find the road to
Moldova. After a couple of false tries I was fortunate enough to pick up a hitch hiker who was going in the same direction, and though he spoke little English he could at least point on the map...
My route home went through not only Moldova, which is probably the poorest country in Europe, but also through the "illegal" breakaway republic of
Transnistria (or Pridnestrovje as they call it themselves). This is the ethnically Slavic part of the country, where Russians and Ukrainians outnumber the Romanian Moldovans. Also, it contains most of the industry of the old Soviet Republic, so they have a higher living standard than Moldova proper, though this does not stop them from being a corrupt mafia state to the bone.
At the border there were a couple of moments of hilarity. First, the Ukrainian guards were much more thorough in checking me and my car as we were leaving than the guys up at the Polish border had been when I entered. I sensed that the guy in charge, who spoke English surprisingly well, seemed to have a tad of humor, so when he stood there looking into my car trunk and asked the usual "G
uns? Drugs?", my reply was "
No... are you selling?". Looking back on it I was probably subjecting myself to the risk of a full body cavity search and an extensive waiting period at the border, but fortunately he just gave a little grin and nodded his approval.
They still managed to raise a bit of hell though, over the fact that I was driving a car not my own. My old Ford was and remains a sad, wretched wreck of a thing, so I'd borrowed my mother's Mitsubishi, and it was her name on the registration papers. The soldier looked up at me with a surprised look and asked "And where is
your mother???" I swear, I've never in my life fought as hard to keep a straight face as then. I patiently explained that my mother was at home, in Norway (barely suppressing the urge to tell them that she was hiding in the trunk), but that the international insurance (required to drive in Ukraine) had my name on it, and that no one had raised this point with me coming IN to the country. I also pointed out the futility in making an issue out of this, since all I really wanted now was to LEAVE. I still had to stand there for a while and let them berate me, and I was sternly informed that the next time I planned on driving in Ukraine, I'd better bring either a) my own car or b) my mother.
After this I drove on into the corrupt hole that is Transnistria, where I was shaken out of appx $20 for a non existing "transit visa". Unfortunately I had very little cash left, so this made me quite nervous as I headed for the Moldovan border. There was a young soldier there who also tried to make me pay for an "exit visa", but I told him in loud and clear English that I had no effin money left, on account of his effin colleagues at the effin border with effin Ukraine effin taking it all. So he could take his effin exit visa and eff off. Fortunately he seemed to buy my little white lie and waved me on with an apologetic grin, which was more than I received from the fat old fuck that stopped me fifty yeards on and demanded an "environment fee". I just couldn't get around the old bastard and had to give him almost everything I had left - a couple of dollars, a couple of Hryvna and a couple of Euro I think. Fucker even had the nerve to give me change back.
I was understandably apprehrensive as I approached the Moldovan checkpoint, being virtually out of any and all kinds of hard cash. My fears only grew when I saw the character slowly getting up from behind a table and walking towards my car. I'm not sure if my description does him justice, but the best I can think of is a young, Russian-looking John Wayne. We're talking straight back, broad shoulders and a face chiseled in granite here. He bent down slowly and took my papers without a word, then examined them carefully for a long time. I swallowed hard. More time passed. Crickets chirruped. Far away a dog barked. Suddenly, still without saying a word, he clicked his heels together with a bang that probably shortened my life span by about two years, saluted smartly and handed me my papers back.
I can't recall if these pics were taken in Ukraine, Transnistria, Moldova or a combination thereof, but it's the same kind of landscape for much of the way, though things start to get more hilly in Moldova, as one approaches the Carpathian mountains:
The rest of the journey home was quite uneventful. I stayed for just one night in the Moldovan capital of Chisinau. It's not much of a place, but I got a decent dinner there. I would however like to mention the hotel I stayed at, the "
Stella de Lux", not just because it's a decent place to stay, but because the night receptionist was possibly the nicest, friendliest person I've encountered behind a desk or indeed anywhere else. Her name was Natasha (a v-e-r-y common name in Eastern Europe), she studied business, and she seemed absolutely thrilled to have someone to practice English with. She helped me get some food and drink from the hotel dining room although it was closed, she gave me tips on where to go to get money and a decent meal and she told me about life in the city, etc, etc. And it was all done with such a genuine, cheery friendliness even an old grump like me was affected by it. After all, how often does a high school teacher experience people smiling from ear to ear as soon as they see his ugly mug coming down the stairs? Exactly.
Natasha, the friendly receptionist. I feel I'm not doing her justice, this pic was taken at the end of her 18 hour night shift - I kid you not!
I got the wrong road out of Chisinau, so I drove through some pretty desolate and poor areas (even for Moldova). I passed through a couple of gypsy villages, and they might as well have been in Africa. Crappy streets, buildings almost falling apart, filth and garbage and dirty, half naked kids everywhere. Ugh.
Cows crossing the road:
Turkeys running around more or less freely:
The crossing into Romania was smooth, it seems they've really got their act together after they joined the EU. The roads are still poor in places though, and it's hell driving through the mountains when you keep winding up behind old, slow, decrepit trucks that belch out the most foul, stinking fumes you can imagine and there's just no effin way you're going to get past them. Romania is in baaaad need of improving their infrastructure, from housing to roads, but it is a country with tourist potential. The mountains have some lovely scenery, and prices are still quite low.
From the Carpathians:
I drove as fast as I could through Romania, but still had to spend a night in Transylvania (which is also a nice area). I then flew low across Hungary and Slovakia before spending a night at a motel just south of Prague. The place is called Motel Zajicek, and I'd stayed there before, back in '02 (a travel story I've yet to complete - I've written almost 20 pages and I'm still only on day 4 out of 14. One day... one day...) . The motel is a clean, cheap and convenient place, and the staff there was very friendly even though I almost gave them a heart attack when I ventured downstairs in search of refreshments at 1AM, not knowing they were
sleeping. I cheerfully grabbed the door handle and yanked the door open, causing a stick they'd propped up against it to fall to the floor with a deafening crash. This is the only time (so far in my life) that I've seen people jump from a horisontal position two feet above ground to practically clawing at the ceiling. I apologized profusely for waking them in such a manner, and they even insisted on getting me the beverages I was looking for, bless their pounding, trembling little hearts.
Early next morning I set off again, and this time I didn't stop for sleep until I got home around 4 AM. I must have covered almost 1,600 km (1,000 miles) that crazy last stretch, since I took the land route and not the ferry through Denmark. When I got back I swore that this would be the last time I made a car trip like this alone. It's interesting and nice at times to travel on one's own, but that last drive through Germany and Scandinavia is so long and boring it's just murder when you have no company besides the radio and your own, increasingly erratic mind.
Which is to say I'm now taking applications for my next epic car trip, whenever and wherever I'm going...
