Killing Batteries

Leif Pettersen’s battery-powered rise to the zenith of travel writing rapture
Tue
28
Oct '08

New hidden cam video of Transdniestr reveals that everything is still effed

When researching Romania and Moldova for Lonely Planet, I’m also obliged to visit the self-declared, breakaway republic of Transdniestr (A.K.A. ‘Transnistria’). It’s yet another one of those countries-that-don’t-exist jobbies that you hear about occasionally in the news. Though they haven’t had any headline-grabbing military action since the brief, but bloody 1991 civil war with Moldova ended in a stalemate, they’re nevertheless notorious in the region for being run by Russian gangsters who make a tidy profit in arms dealing and human trafficking. Meanwhile, dirt poor citizens are told they’re living the Soviet-era communist ideal and that this is in their best interest.

Despite rampant rumors of arms dealing, there has been precious little hard evidence that any yahoo could pop over into Transdniestr, load up on weapons and outfit a small army whenever they felt like it. Well, a new video has come out, done by the Italian TV program Le Iene (“The Hyenas”) that appears to not only show a guy successfully closing an arms deal, but also has bonus footage of Transdniestr and Russian border guards doing what they do best: shake foreigners down for everything they’re worth. Moldovan police are well-known for doing this too, but we don’t see any evidence in this particular video.

The two-part video, which was brought to my attention by Elfin Waters who always sends me the very best tidbits coming out of Italy, unfortunately is a little long (about nine minutes each) and almost entirely in Italian, so I’ll provide my own narrative here. I should preface by saying that Italian is by far my weakest language, so if anyone notices that I’ve gotten anything really wrong, please alert me.

In Part I, the guy gives a breathless history about the region, how it’s not recognized by any government in the world (except Papa Russia), but nevertheless has their own currency, police force, army and “borders”, controlled by Transdniestran border guards – with backing from a 5000-strong Russian ‘operational group’ to keep Moldova from getting any bright ideas about taking its land back.

The guy travels to Chişinau, rents a car and heads to Tiraspol, the capital of Transdniestr. It’s right here that he makes two costly mistakes. It appears he’s hired a Romanian woman to be his translator. Unfortunately, this does him little good in Transdniestr, a primarily Russian-speaking region, and we see them frequently reduced to caveman talk in both Romanian and Italian. Also, it’s pretty clear that the translator has never been to Transdniestr before, so there’s no one to stop the announcer guy from walking into a bunch of border scams, including a daring new one (at least, new to me) when they try to leave, but I digress.

They stash all their A/V equipment in the doors/roof/trunk of the car and then proceed to the worst possible border crossing: the hectic and bribe-happy crossing at Bendery. This is a three-part crossing. First you get checked out by Moldovan cops, then a Russian military post and then the Transdniestran border guards. The Moldovans wave them through, but uh oh, there’s trouble at the Russian checkpoint. The Russians use a well-worn scam, saying that our heroes have to go back to Chişinau for some mystery document and then cross at another border crossing about 100 kilometers north, which, with the state of Moldovan/Transdniestran roads, is almost a full day’s drive in all. However, after much frowning and feigned grumbling they reluctantly allow them through after paying a ‘fine’ of 600 lei (about US$55).

Then our heroes walk over to “Transdniestran immigration”, one of whom amazingly speaks Italian, and seemingly without even bothering to invent an infraction or fine, they are ordered to pay 20 euros. FYI – Transdniestr entry permits are officially about US$1.

Finally inside Transdniestr, we are treated to the requisite video montage of Tiraspol, including not one, but two Lenin statues and the hilarious Che Guevara/Putin poster on the city’s main thoroughfare. They touch briefly on “President” Igor Smirnov, and his dubious ties to Sheriff, the company that owns virtually everything in Transdniestr. They even find an unusually candid local that explains that Sheriff (and by association Smirnov) is the republic’s “mafia”. What’s interesting here is that I’m 98% sure that during this conversation they are standing in the lobby of one of Tiraspol’s best hotels, supposedly owned by Smirnov, where all his gangster buddies stay during visits. Not sure if the woman speaking is just some random off the street or if she actually works at the hotel. Either way, I have never, ever heard a Transdniestran speak so negatively about Smirnov. Perhaps the increasingly thin subterfuge and hilarious propaganda passed around in recent years has finally started to lose its effect on the populace.

Finally they head to the market to try to find someone to sell them guns. Through the magic of video editing, they appear to find someone willing to talk guns in almost no time.

In Part II, after decamping from the market to slightly quieter street corner, the prospective dealer quizzes them about why they want the guns and what precisely our heroes want to buy (handguns and kalashnikovs). Then some haggling over prices. Then some idle shop-talk about missile launchers and remote control bombs (Christmas is coming up after all). Then they agree to meet again Saturday afternoon for a viewing of the merchandise.

They meet as planned on the street and retreat into a bar, where the dealer calls in his runner with a sample. More discussion of weaponry ensues. The runner arrives and we see a Russian-made handgun being examined. Then they haggle and the announcer agrees to buy 50 handguns with silencers for 500 euros each (about US$625) and 50 kalashnikovs, also for 500 euros each – so, 50,000 euros total (US$62,500) for a hell of a lot of firepower. They then discuss the route they will take from Transdniestr, through Moldova and into Romania when they have their truckload of guns.

The seller says the guns will be ready in two weeks. They agree that he will call them when they are ready and speak the secret code: ‘the hen with the egg’ (that’s the literal translation, but I suppose it really means something like ‘the hen has laid the egg’ or something).

The announcer quickly sums up how he, just some regular guy that sauntered in to Tiraspol, was able to close a deal for 100 weapons in the space of a few hours.

Having done what they came to do, they wisely decide to get the hell out of TransD. This, apart from the apparently successful arms deal, is the most intriguing part for me. When they get to the Transdniestran check point, the guards pull the announcer into a hut, away from his hidden camera-wearing translator and they somehow surmise that he’s a prime target for a big time shakedown. It’s not said, but I wonder if the guards demanded that “by law” he needed to show them all the cash he was carrying. This is a common trick these guards use to get an idea of how much money they can then ‘fine’ that person for invented infractions later on. For whatever reason the announcer was carrying a large amount of cash (maybe to use as flash money during his arms deal, I don’t know), so, sensing a massive payday for all, the guards decide to give him a breathalyzer test. It appears to show that he is guilty of a DUI. The announcer claims he hasn’t had a single drink. They haul him off to a ‘clinic’ to confirm his blood-alcohol level with a more reliable test, separating the guy from his translator. When he returns, he agitatedly reports that they confirmed his alleged drunkenness and he was fined 600 euros (US$750) on the spot. Ouch.

At the Russian checkpoint, the exact same guy they dealt with last time takes them into the hut yet again for another shakedown. Our heroes’ frustration bubbles over into amusement at the absurdity of it all, as he pays 50 euros for an undisclosed offense. Finally, they are back in the relative safety of Moldova. The end.

I really found this video fascinating on so many levels. Despite some very weak prep work, the announcer manages to uncover all kinds of juicy info during his visit. We get to see guns, we get to see shameless thieving by Russian and Transdniestran officials, we learn that any dingleberry can stumble into TransD and buy/ship enough firepower to equip a small army anywhere in the EU for about US$63,000, not including bribes and presumably various border guard payoffs and we get to see the biggest Transdniestran border bribe scam that I’ve ever heard of.

Now, in fairness, what this video doesn’t show, mostly because it’s off-topic I suppose, is that with the right prep work and avoiding the Bendery border crossing, Transdniestr is really a mesmerizing place to visit. My visit in 2006 was wrought with relatively minor problems (I brought a Russian-speaker with me, but not one that had experience traveling in the region, which may have contributed to some of the social ostracizing we experienced), but my visit in May of 2008 revealed a whole new, seemingly chilled out Transdniestr. If you have any interest in Soviet-era Moscow, there’s really nothing like it in the world – not even Moscow. Well, maybe Pyongyang.

Finally, what you’ve all been waiting for I’m sure, some traveler tips for future TV exposé crews wanting to enter TransD from Moldova: It’s imperative that you bring a Russian-speaker, preferably someone with experience traveling in the region. Also, drive a car with Moldovan plates – a cheap car, so as not to give any hint, valid or not, that you might be rich – and avoid the Bendery crossing at all costs. I crossed through at Grigoriopol in May. This added about an hour onto the drive time from Chişinau to Tiraspol, but unlike the three-part, multi-national gauntlet of greed at Bendery, Grigoriopol simply has two very bored Transdniestran guards. I didn’t see it, but I think my driver had to pay a small ‘fee’, otherwise we sailed right though. You cannot, however, use this crossing if you intend to exit Transdniestr into Ukraine, due to the lack of transit paperwork facilities here.

Though they seem to change the rules every few months, at the time of writing, you do not need a letter of invitation from a Transdniestran local to visit the region. If you’re told otherwise at the border, you’re being sized up for a bribe. Same goes for if you’re told that you need a visa (nonexistent) acquired at the ‘Transdniestran Embassy’ (also nonexistent).

As you see in the video, going through the Bendery crossing means that you will most likely be invited into a hut at some stage to have a sit-down with a few looming, armed men. This is a scare tactic that builds up to whatever infraction you’ve committed and the eventual bribe you’ll have to pay. How much you pay depends almost entirely on how cool you play it. A theatrical performance designed to heighten anxiety and break your spirit will commence. Ominous forms will be filled out. If you’re entering on public transport, your bags will be pulled off the bus, presumably leaving you stranded. Your best defense is calm and patience. Let the bus leave you behind, another will be along shortly. Even the most persistent guards will eventually get tired of dealing with you, particularly if their tactics don’t appear to be working. Worst case scenario, you’ll be stonewalled at a mirthfully small bribe offer (say, five euros) or you’re sent back to where you came from. They cannot hold you, or arrest you or anything like that, so really, their only weapon is intimidation. If that doesn’t work. They’re out of options.

And for the love of Buddha, don’t carry a gangsta wad of cash, stored in your prominently displayed money/document pouch. Bring along just enough euros/Moldovan lei to get you through your visit. The less cash you have on you, the more meager the bribe they can demand. There are no cash machines anywhere in TransD, so if you don’t have serious cash on you, bribe negotiations will be brief.

For more info on run-ins with officials, escaping bribe shakedowns and what to do in case of arrest while abroad, read my recent article in Global Traveler magazine entitled “Who You Gonna Call?” (join the web site’s free 30-day trial to read the entire article).

Agonizing over travel insurance? Maybe I can help…

Wed
22
Oct '08

Home one year – still adjusting, embarrassing myself

What the… I’ve been back in the US for one year already? Holy crap! What happened to all that time? All I did was leave town seven times (four internationally), write four guidebook chapters for two countries, write nine travel magazine articles, write 55 buyer’s guides for MSN, write countless blog posts for my own blogs and others, buy a condo, furnish it and fail to land three more travel TV show auditions.

The funny-if-you’re-not-me thing is I often still feel like I’m re-adjusting to living in the US. There was a small incident just last week when I was charged with obtaining items for a dinner recipe and ended up frozen with confusion and despair when faced with over 33 different varies of bacon. You know how many kinds of bacon they have in Romania? One. It’s called ‘bacon’.

I’m struggling with a few other ongoing reverse culture shock issues, like continually saying ‘toilet’ instead of ‘bathroom’, not being able to intelligently discuss “The Hills” or “Gossip Girl”, and, despite being a lean, mean 5′-9″ and 145 lbs, failing to find clothes that fit me. All pants and shorts with a 30-inch waist seem to have been exported to Eastern Europe. Even if I could find clothes my size, I still have to learn the new sizing scheme that debuted while I was abroad, like t-shirts now labeled as ‘small’ are in fact mediums, ‘mediums’ are larges, etc all the way up the line, meaning I’m probably going to have to go to Baby Gap to get shirts that aren’t billowing off me.

Do I miss being a homeless vagabond? Yes, sometimes very much. There’s few greater joys in life than sitting back, tenting your fingers and thinking “Now what warm, cheap place that will make all my friends wretchedly jealous shall I live in this winter?” I miss the giddying daily discovery of new cultural tidbits. Also, there’s the food. Just last week a friend of mine and I drove each other to drooling, craving madness while discussing the food we missed in Italy.

But there’s no denying I love having my own place here in Minneapolis, with my own things and the ability to own more than three books or one pair of shoes at the same time. While living in eccentric and exotic destinations was undeniably great, those temporary apartments were almost unanimously horrible. The thin walls, the sketchy utilities, the broken stuff and the kitchens that had one pot, one pan, four plates and two forks often tested the upper limits of my ability to be productive or simply make pasta.

So, while my life is far less interesting and there’s no avoiding the Minnesota winter that’s about to descend around me, I’m still quite happy with the decision to return home and try my best to resume a life that more closely approximates normalcy. Except I still get to travel frequently and otherwise sit at home all day in my underwear and publicly muse about the downsides of freelancing and the character flaws of the people that don’t hire me.

In closing, still loving Minneapolis, hire me if you’ve got the guts and toilet, toilet, toilet.

Agonizing over travel insurance? Maybe I can help…

Tue
14
Oct '08

Video proof that I’m a Renaissance Man

I’m often reverently described as a modern Renaissance Man, to which I always answer, ‘Damn straight, mom!” So in case any of you were curious about what the 2008 version of a Renaissance Man looks like, I present you with the following evidence.

First, going straight to Renaissance Ground Zero, the long awaited video where I semi-coherently describe Florence:

Of course, no Renaissance Man is complete without some sort of circus skill, so here’s a video of me doing what we in juggling refer to as ‘passing clubs’. (there’s several guys in this video, I’m the cutest one, obviously):

Finally, lest any of you forget, I make a mean omelet:

Agonizing over travel insurance? Maybe I can help…

Mon
6
Oct '08

Dear non-Americans, in case you were wondering…

If you’ve been watching the election news coming from the US this past month, unsure whether or not the shenanigans you were hearing about vice presidential candidate Sarah Palin were true or just some silly political trash talking, I have some sad, horrifying news for you. Yes, it’s true that there’s an individual here who is potentially “a heartbeat away from the presidency,” as we like to say, and therefore one of the most powerful people in the world, who satisfies all of the following criteria:

•    Is a dangerously fanatical Pentecostal, who believes in witchcraft and tribal, superstitious fairytales

•    Can’t name even one printed news source that she regularly reads

•    Is determined to knock women’s rights back into the 1920s

•    Is even more duplicitous, petty and self-serving than the average politician

•    Has a wayward teenaged daughter that can’t keep her legs together

•    Has a son that was forced to enter the military as punishment for felony vandalism against his school’s buses

•    Didn’t get a passport until age 42 and has since only traveled to military bases in Kuwait and Germany

•    Suggests that people who travel and demonstrate an interest in the rest of the world are spoiled, noncontributing members of society

•    Can’t answer a direct question truthfully or coherently (notice how the spoof clip and the real clip are nearly verbatim in places)

•    Blindly repeats any outlandish, slanderous lies that her weasel advisors tell her to say

•    Can’t pronounce ‘nuclear’ – though it appears sometimes she can with judicious assistance

•    Is the epitome of white trash while scorning people who are too professorial, worldly and open-minded (i.e. “Stupid is the new smart!”)

Just like in 2004, I find myself in the position of having to apologize to every baffled, bug-eyed, distraught person watching our election from abroad, and wondering how, in Buddha’s sweet name, 59,054,087 people can be so DUMB?

It’s just absurd.

Agonizing over travel insurance? Maybe I can help…