Category: Iraq

If you have never heard of Moldova, which I am betting is the case then you will definitely have no idea of the existence of Transnistra. Transnistra is a thin sliver of land on the eastern border of Moldova sandwiched between the Dneister River and Ukraine. Ethnically these people are a 3 way mixture of Moldovans, Russians and Ukrainians. Right at the get go in 1991-92 they resisted attempts to integrate them in Moldova. In 1992 they went to war with Moldova. Three months later a cease fire was negotiated which continues to this day. Transnistra has applied to the UN for recognition as a sovereign nation but was rejected.

What makes this little territory really interesting is their anachronistic continued political and social adherence to the Soviet ideal. This little “would be” nation has its own military, border crossings, currency and legislature. They run 5 yearly elections in much the same style as Russia does. Emblematic of how free and fair the process is a government candidate in 2001 won his electorate with 103% of the vote!

It’s 90 minutes on the bus from Chisinau to the capitol of Transnistra, Tiraspol. The countryside is fairly flat and nondescript. At the border we are given a piece of paper which is a visa valid for 10 hours and fairly soon after cross the Dneister into Tiraspol. My expectations were that this would be a drab grey Soviet style city, a downmarket version of Pyongyang perhaps. My travelling companions Anthony and his good friend James were here 4 years ago and at that time the place looked as I expected. Today it looks like a quiet but pretty little city, much changed from that previous experience. The only nod to the Soviet past is the persistence of Lenin statues and a number of former Russian tanks that have been put on pedestals as monuments. In among this, though are pretty, colourful, Orthodox churches and shrines and pretty parklands running along the river. This place is an enjoyable aberration.

Unable to secure an appointment at the Kvint winery for a tasting of their world famous cognacs, despite some elaborate attempts and ruses by my travelling companions (nice try boys)

we spend the afternoon in the town of Bender touring through the immaculately restored 16^th century Ottoman fortress. In between it all we stumble into a newly funky restaurant at Tiraspol called BBQ burger bar. The manager there tells us it is his second day being opened and records a testimonial from us to put on Instagram. Crazy place!

Dusk approaches. There is a fine light misty sprinkling falling from grey skies. All around is light, sound and motion. The massive TV screen set up in the middle of the blocked road is belting out some sort of light pop music with a really Eastern Euro feel. A local guy comes over to us plonks three plastic wine glasses before us and pours red wine. We do not speak each other’s language but he smiles broadly brandishing the wine bottle and its label before us. The wine is a pleasant fruity quaffer and in the spirit of friendship we drink, compliment and thank him for it. He comes back with some white wine and the performance is repeated. People are crowding around the various booths and marquees to taste the major produce and source of what little export wealth there is for this small Easter European backwater that is Moldova, wine. Accidentally we have arrived bang in the middle of the annual 2 day festival and wine expo in the little backwater Moldovan capitol of Chisinau.

Moldova was a tiny piece that fell out of the jigsaw puzzle of nations that was the USSR. The fragmentation of the Soviet empire in 1992 left this poor little backwater sandwiched between Romania and Ukraine. Ethnically these people are Romanian, they speak the same language, and even persist with the Romanian currency. In Soviet times they were a supplier of cheap and nasty tasting wine to Russia. Since independence the little wine industry has struggled to attract the attention of the outside world. It has been a fast learning curve for the vignerons here but they have been hamstrung by their former market’s desire for classic European grapes such as Cabernet, Chardonnay and Pinot Noir. The newer generation vignerons are increasing planting the original, indigenous grapes. The result is that the best wines here are those made with the grapes such as Feteasca Alba, Feteasca negra and Rara Negra. The very best of these are absolute knockout wines, different to anything I have ever tasted and the best of them go for the pittance price of $20 Australian. This is a wine lover’s nirvana!

It is over a year ago that I paid a deposit for a trip to Iraq. Iraq is the centre piece of my forthcoming 3 week break. I have been asked often about my impending holiday destination.  When the answer was Iraq the responses varied from raised eyebrows to downright dismay. For all of the recent historical conflict in Iraq, not much of significance has actually happened in the southern section where I will be travelling. That is not, of course, until the last 4 days where violent anti government protest has resulted in 60 deaths and many more with serious injuries.

Back when I booked this trip a Hong Kong stopover would not have rated. Fast forward to late 2019 and how times have changed. Less than 18 hours before I arrive the news reporting on the 70^th anniversary of the creation of the People Republic of China shows mass protest, tear gas and water cannons and the shooting of a protestor by police. It is at more of a flashpoint than Iraq has been.

On landing it is a rare sunny day in Honkers and, with a long stopover there, we take the opportunity to leave the airport and catch the train into town and up to Victoria Peak. It is a warm, steamy but amazingly well lit sunny morning. We have breakfast there and take our fill of photos looking down over Hong Kong before taking the tourist tram down the mountain and the train back to the airport. Less than 12 hours after we leave the protestors target the train network destroying ticket machines and occupying stations. The government responds by closing down the rail system. The only evidence of the demonstrations we see on our perfectly timed foray is random anti government graffiti.