Celebrating a nation that does not exist !

By the time the morning sun had crept above the city’s Soviet-era apartment blocks, the crowd-control barriers lining Suvorov Square in downtown Tiraspol were already three-deep with families dressed in their Sunday (in this case, Monday) best. Their collective excitement was almost palpable on this surprisingly warm September day; anyone would have thought a royal wedding was on the cards.

But in Transnistria (also spelled Trans-Dniester), a sliver of land tracing Moldova’s border with Ukraine for 400km, the capital’s Independence Day celebrations are the highlight of the year. Never mind that the tiny Eastern European nation, formally called the Pridnestrovian Moldavian Republic (PMR), doesn’t officially exist.

Unrecognised as a nation by any member of the United Nations despite declaring its independence in 1990, a year before the Soviet Union crumbled, Transnistria is a wonderfully peculiar place. Less than 70km south-east of the Moldovan capital of Chisinau, Tiraspol (pop: 130,000) is often described as being stuck in the USSR. Indeed, from the imperious statue of Lenin guarding Transnistria’s Brutalist parliament building to its streets named after Communist luminaries and significant dates, it’s certainly not short on Soviet-era relics.

With highlights including a fancy rifle-twizzling routine and military commanders zooming around in Soviet-era jeeps saluting assembled troops, the 2019 military parade marking Transnistria’s 29th year of self-declared independence didn’t exactly challenge the stereotype. That was until the band launched into a rendition of American rock group Survivor’s 1982 hit “Eye of the Tiger”, providing the first hint that, despite technically being part of Moldova and bankrolled by Russia, this proud little “country” marches to its own beat.

“It makes us sad that our independence isn’t officially recognised, but we feel independent,” explained public servant Vera Galchenko as she helped a nonagenarian military veteran into a taxi following the 45-minute parade, his frail body buckling under the weight of World War Two medals. “We have our own constitution, government, military, currency and even passports,” she said proudly.

But with no direct access to the only three states that recognise Transnistria (Abkhazia; Nagorno-Karabakh, also known as the Republic of Artsakh; and South Ossetia – all also disputed territories), the passport is essentially useless to its 500,000-odd residents. However, most hold dual or triple nationality with Russia, Moldova or Ukraine, so they’re not exactly trapped in this landlocked enclave characterised by sleepy villages, abandoned Soviet factories, and vineyards that supply Tiraspol’s enormous Kvint brandy distillery.

Since Transnistria declared independence 30 years ago, Tiraspol’s population has actually decreased by at least a third, with most residents having left to seek work in Russia due to declining economic prospects following the fall of the USSR. But while life is not easy in this presidential democracy, where wages are even lower than in Moldova (one of Europe’s poorest countries), while exploring the region I learned that many are content with the life here.

http://www.bbc.com/travel/story/20200205-celebrating-a-nation-that-doesnt-exist