2008. On our way from Ukraine we pass the border between Transnistria and Moldova. An armored vehicle of Russian ‘peace troops’ stands on the roadside. Soldiers sit bored in the shadows, but one stands up and signals us to stop. It’s the Russian vehicle commander. I stop and open the window. He bends down until our noses almost touch and says, “Do you have beer?” I think about the bottles of Ukrainian champagne in the back of the car and say in my best Russian: “Yes, I have, but then I want to take a picture.” The non-commissioned officer hesitates and says: “I need permission from Moscow to take pictures…” He looks at me pleadingly. “No photo, no beer”, I answer and press the accelerator.
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A version of this article also appeared in the newspaper of April 29, 2022
