A very real visit to a country that doesn't really exist

As an independent nation, Transnistria does not exist. But it will be the last to admit this. Officially part of Moldova, a small country wedged between Romania and Ukraine, it declared independence more than three decades ago, and has stubbornly maintained that position ever since.

Unrecognised by any UN member state, it's an oddity even among territories struggling for recognition. Few have heard of it. But Moldova itself is hardly better known.

The day I returned to Amsterdam, I asked my students whether they had heard of Chisinu, the country's capital and our starting point for a journey into Transnistria. Teaching a course on how we share a planet with AI, I have banned laptops and phones to see whether students can still think for themselves. Try prompting your brain for an answer, I suggested.


One student immediately suggested he should be disqualified because he was born there. Another student, from Ukraine, knew the answer too. Of the remaining 21, only one other student, born in Lithuania, knew. Moldova is Europe's least visited country and it showed. My Moldovan student also knew Transnistria, though explaining it was another matter. Sandwiched between Moldova and Ukraine, it is best described as a Soviet relic refusing to embrace a world that has long moved on.

Getting there is straightforward. We arranged a taxi from Chisinu, driving along a windswept highway towards a checkpoint reminiscent of a Cold War movie. Documents were inspected and an entry permit issued. Beyond the checkpoint, Cyrillic lettering, Russian flags, and Soviet imagery made everything feel distinctly Russian.

Transnistria declared independence from Moldova in 1990, fearing that growing Moldovan nationalism and closer ties with Romania would threaten its largely Russian- and Ukrainian-speaking population. Following a brief war in 1992, it established itself as a de facto independent state, supported by Russia, but internationally recognised as part of Moldova.

Our first stop was Bender Fortress, an imposing 16thc Ottoman stronghold overlooking the Dniester river after which Transnistria takes its name. Originally a Moldavian fortification, it was rebuilt under Sultan Suleiman the Magnificent. Its thick stone walls, towers and courtyards recall centuries of shifting empires, while a museum displays weapons and military artefacts.

With fat grey clouds rolling overhead, we didn't stay long, heading instead for Tiraspol, Moldova's de facto capital, with its astonishing collection of Soviet monuments. An old T-34 tank sits on a pedestal at Memorial of Glory, commemorating Soviet soldiers who died during WWW2. Elsewhere, Lenin meets the eye, standing tall before the government building, his sturdy coat permanently flapping in the wind.

Transnistria has its own currency, flag, anthem, parliament, and president. Yet, its existence remains dependent on Russian support, occupying a peculiar position between Moldova, which is seeking EU membership, and Ukraine, which is fighting Russia.

Moldova itself is a fascinating product of shifting borders. Sharing a language and much of its history with neighbouring Romania, it nevertheless developed a distinct national identity, shaped in part by decades of Soviet rule. What was once officially called 'Moldovan' is, in fact, 'Romanian,' while the idea of reunification with Romania has gained renewed attention in recent years.

Our journey ended in a meticulously maintained little square, where a statue depicted a bespectacled boy in an ankle-length robe, carrying a heavy book under one arm and a fat owl perched on his other hand. Intended to inspire young people to read and study, he was emphatically not Harry Potter, even if he was the spitting image of him.

Just around the corner, a large mural of Yuri Gagarin, the first human in space, offered another reminder of Transnistria's enduring attachment to achievements of the Soviet Union, even as the country that made them possible has long ceased to exist. It made for a fitting conclusion to a visit to a fantastical part of the world that, at least on paper, may forever remain fiction.