Killing Batteries

With the notable exception of Monaco, I have never seen a higher concentration of luxury cars than in Chisinau, Moldova.  BMWs reign supreme, followed closely by Mercedes with American SUVs making a strong showing.  The Russian Lada, formerly the unofficial national car of Moldova, is a distant fourth or fifth (all numbers are by my observation and by no means scientific).

So how is it, you may ask, that the poorest country in Europe has so much four wheeled flash?  Well, that’s a touchy subject.  The “shadow economy” phenomenon has allowed certain businesses to prosper in a tax-free orgy of profit, allowing their owners for such excesses.  Arms dealing, human and organ trafficking and other organized criminal ugliness is surely a factor.  But with the staggering number of luxury vehicles on the street, it’s difficult to imagine, even in Moldova, that all these people are somehow associated with dark dealings.  Another aspect is foreign money filtered back into Moldova.  About 1/3 of Moldova’s economy is driven by money sent home by Moldovans working abroad and wiring the money home to their families.  In some cases the understandable aim of seeking a better life has lost all grip with reality.  College students take money meant for tuition and buy clothes and the aforementioned slick rides.  Then of course there are government officials, bureaucratic heavies and the ubiquitous money-hungry police all collecting second and third unreported salaries that double or triple their pay checks.

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Chisinau (ki-shi-no), the capitol of Moldova, ascended to the top of my list of all time favourite cities within 24 hours of my arrival.  Strangely, there are very few items of tourist appeal to indulge in here (even less now as they have closed one museum and merged two others), yet I deeply enjoyed myself.

To start, the people are just wonderful.  Friendly, helpful and genuine.  Ask directions from someone in Bucharest and you probably won’t get much more than a grunt and a head nod in a vague direction.  In Chisinau, the person you’ve beseeched for help will come out of their store, take your arm (like the Romanians, Moldovans can be very tactile) lead you to the street and give you specific, careful instructions.  This would have been endearing enough as a traveller, but as a guidebook researcher, this mentality saved me untold time and hardship.  Merchants, hotel staff, museum directors, strangers at bus stops, whether there was something in it for them or not, they all dropped everything, offering me information, coffee, the use of their telephones, whatever.  It was an absolute joy to work there.

Also, they have a restaurant and nightlife scene that is so grand and extensive that it’s going to kill me to have to cut those sections of the book down to a reasonable length.  The downside is the hotels are absurdly expensive and not all that great.  But there’s a number of ways around that, namely home stays, which brings me to yet another Chisinau rave.

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I leave for Moldova in the morning and I’ve gotta admit, I don’t think I have ever been more nervous about going somewhere. Usually Moldova can be challenging and the breakaway region of Transdnistria, which I’m also obliged to visit, is one step above chaos, but things have worsened recently making the overall picture none-too appealing for an American journalist, travelling alone, in a Romanian car that’s not in his name and insured by a third party, without a single word of Russian in his vocabulary.

Relations between Transdnistria, the Russian-backed country that doesn’t exist, and Moldova have never been great but various moves by self-absorbed fat-heads, resulting in consequences largely felt by the already long-suffering citizens of both regions, have hit a new low and Transdnistria has called for Russia to send more support – the bulk of their defence is supplied by Russian troops, sympathetic to the region clinging to old Soviet ways. I’m already being told not to drive the car into Transdnistria, though if I do, don’t dare go without a smooth talking local in the passenger seat or the guards will have a field day with my sorry ass. I’ll have to see if anyone in my large group of contacts in Chisinau will be willing to take a short road trip with me. Guides are surprisingly expensive (15-30 euro per hour), so that will have to be a last ditch option. Hopefully, there’ll just be a friendly local in Chisinau, preferably with relatives in Transdnistria, who’d like to come along for the ride.

With Communist ways in full force in Moldova and people extra touchy right now, I imagine that fact gathering will be even more difficult than here in Romania, where paranoid suspicion of questions, no matter how benign, particularly by older, Ceausescu-era generations can be like pulling teeth from a starving crocodile (e.g. Q: “What time is it?” A: “Why do you want to know? Who are you?”).

The good news, as I’ve already mentioned, is that pre-trip emailing has brought me a windfall of excellent contacts in Chisinau. I’m in touch with two motivated guides, a dedicated blogger, the enthusiastic host of my LP predecessor, the business partner of some acquaintances of mine and a Fulbright scholar from Arizona, teaching a journalism class who I’m meeting en masse to talk about freelance travel writing in America. My cup runneth over with help and hopefully all the local wine my liver can endure.

I’m planning to stay 10-12 days. No more than 14, as my insurance will run out and I don’t need to give anyone additional excuses to harass me at the border.

Updates here will undoubtedly be scant and brief. If I go silent for more than two weeks call the embassy, stressing of course that I’m too cute to die.