Transnistria - travel in a break-away state.

A few years ago this excursion into to disputed territory probably wouldn't have been possible due to flaring political conflicts, but nowadays, a day trip to Transnistria is easier and it is, in fact, becoming a 'been there, done that' destination for most backpackers who find themselves in Moldova.

For those of you who haven't heard of Transnistria (most people haven't) it is a self-declared, communist state sandwiched between Moldova and Ukraine. The collapse of the USSR triggered a bloody civil war between the Moldovans and Transnistrians, both keen for territory and independence. There has been a reasonably peaceful ceasefire since the early 90s but the two states are still at odds, with the Moldovans refusing to recognise them and the Transistrians reinforcing themselves by hiring Russian army goons to 'keep the peace'.

We decided that, since we were in the vicinity, it'd be rude not to pay a visit to Transnistria's capital Tiraspol. In theory, this journey is an hour or so by bus, but the tricky, unofficial border can take anything between 25 minutes to 3 hours to cross, depending on the mood of the guards. Another thing that depends on the mood of the guards is whether you are bribed or not.

There was only one way to find out. We set off with some US$, in case the police decided to be cheeky, and got on the bus to Tiraspol. All passengers were handed an immigration form to fill out before the border. That was all fine, we had been told that this was going to happen. The only box we couldn't fill was 'Patronym'. We had no idea what that was. Turns out, it is exactly how it sounds - a male family name, apparently, usually used in Russian family lineage. So, due to some random guessing, Fiona's patronym was put down as 'Glasgow', to be safe.

Pulling up to the border was a pretty exciting experience. We were driving up through acres of farmland when, almost our of nowhere, a large green and red border gate appeared ahead. A rectangular arch spanned the road and small out houses stood alongside it. From the top of the arch the unmissable and iconic bloc CCCP letters stared back. Underneath that was the old Soviet coat of arms.

We were rushed off the bus by the driver and told to take out immigration forms to the office with our passports. This was the nervy bit, would they bribe us? I didn't feel like it, but you never know. We were fortunate to get towards the front of the queue. The squat, dark eyed officer took my documents and observed them. He looked at me a few times and said something. I just shrugged. He passed my passport over to his mate and said "Yakov (Jacob)" or something. Then he scribbled down the time that I had to leave on the immigration form (9 hours from entry time, or else!), stamped it and gave me the 'exit' half with my passport. Pheeeew. Fiona got through fine, too, despite apparently being named after a Scottish city.

To be honest that was the most exciting part of our Transnistrian excursion. Downtown Tiraspol doesn't have much to boast about. It isn't even that Soviet. Among the odd Lenin statue and hammer and sickle signage there are plenty of advertisements for Bosch, Canon and Redbull. I don't think that's what Lenin had in mind really. However, one brand reigns over the rest in Transnistria - Sherrif. This is because Transistria is a mafia state, disguised as a communist republic.

There was a strange feeling to the place though. It was quiet. Too quiet. It didn't seem like anyone had anything to do. It didn't feel dangerous though. The only thing to avoid there, is trouble with officials. If you arrested, you could pretty much disappear. Because no-one recognises it there are no British consulates or embassies to save you. The only pictures I felt safe taking, though, were from a bus because the police (and public) are suspicious of big cameras.

We didn't need our 9 hours there though. It was more just to get the feel of the novelty city. We we back in Chisinau in time for dinner and some home-brewed beers.