And Then Transdniestria Got in the Way – Part 4

Eventually, the guy’s friend pulled up in a car fit for a mafia henchman. This was too good to be true. There had to be someone tied up in the trunk who, after a quick run to the border to drop us off, would be “taken care of” in what I could only imagine to be true Moldovan mafia style. But I digress…

We got in the car and maneuvered our way through the giant potholes and mud puddles before finally reaching the pavement. Our first stop was not in fact at the border, but at a local bar some 200 metres down the road. Some people were playing a Russian version of billiards outside the entrance. They greeted the driver and our friend as we walked by. I guess you really would know everyone if you lived in such a small village.

Inside, our friend greeted the waitress like she was his wife. It was borderline strange, but could be reasonably explained by the guy’s blood-alcohol level. The place, which was typical of the many post-Soviet establishments I have seen (characterized by being empty, having cheesy bar, and displaying an extravagant liquor collection), was deserted by even the optimistic of estimates. We were treated to some Moldovan banter between our entourage and the local staff. Such a curious language, Moldovan. Could’ve been Latin for all I know.

We were offered every liquor under the sun before finally ending up with a small glass of warm Moldovan beer. Surely vodka, or any other spirit for that matter, would destroy our credibility at the border. I could just hear the border guards…

“Look at these two Canadian drunks with Ukrainian last names. What the hell are they doing walking across this border. They must be smuggling,” would say one.

“Hey, let’s play a joke on them. I say we throw their drunk asses in a holding cell for the night,” would scheme the other.

Eventually we were back on the road. Houses that looked as though they had sunk into the ground passed by outside the car. Our time in Moldova was coming to an end. The last stop was the border checkpoint. We would be walking across this one, so it promised to be at least mildly eventful (if history had any say in the matter).