This last Wednesday I went to the Gagauz village of Kazaklia to do some interviews with school principals for my research project. Kazaklia is a bit out of the way, so we had to hop on one of Moldova’s many minibuses to get there.
For those who have not traveled much in the developing world, minibuses are how people get around. The usual brand here in Moldova is a Mercedes Sprinter. Imagine a big school van that has be refitted to jam in as many people as possible and you have the right idea. In the former USSR these minibuses are called marshrutky. The word actually comes from the French marche route. Russians turned this French phrase into the noun marshrutka in order to indicate that these minibuses travel along a fixed route.
Marshrutky on Abovyan Street in Yerevan, Armenia.
In urban areas, minibuses are used for intracity transportation. In Armenia I rode a minibus to university every day. I even wrote a pseudo-poem about it which I will dig up and post here at some point. In rural areas they travel between towns and villages.
The main advantage of traveling by minibus is the price. The two-hour trip to Chisinau costs about $3. The smaller size of minibuses means that they run trips more frequently. Minibuses also stop anywhere along the route in order to pick up passengers, which is convenient for people in small villages along the route. Villagers just stand by the side of the rode and flag down a passing minibus.
Our trip to Kazaklia on a marshrutka was...a unique cultural experience. First of all it was incredibly hot during because they had no A/C. Secondly, the thing was stuffed. The drivers have an incentive to pick up as many people as possible in order to make money. Adam counted 33 people in a bus that should really hold about 20.
This is when the minibus was moving.
Photo by Adam Julian.
Being in such close contact with people is always...interesting. Sometimes people are nice, sometimes they are grouchy, sometimes they are a bit smelly. Come to think of it, it’s not all that different from riding the bus in the U.S., except everyone is much closer to each other. This can get awkward fast. I once had a drunk guy fall asleep on me. Not cool. When we got on the bus there was this strange political argument going on between two extremely unhappy women. One cursed out the city of Tiraspol, the other leapt to its defense, and sure enough they started yelling about the war in Transnistria in the early ‘90s. Fun.
I think marshrutka drivers are probably the former Soviet Union’s biggest badasses. There’s really no way to describe them without swearing. This particular driver was pretty cool. He managed to pick up people in one of the towns we passed while simultaneously getting himself a cold cup of kvas (a traditional beverage) from a roadside stand. All without leaving his seat. Smooth.
My view from the front seat.
Note the icon made out of CDs. Strangely ubiquitous.
After arriving in Kazaklia after our sweaty tour through the Moldovan countryside, we were pretty exhausted. Luckily on the way back we managed to hitchhike. In the former USSR, hitchhiking is one of the best ways to travel. You just stick out your hand and pick up a passing car. It’s customary to pitch in a few bucks. The driver gets money for gas, you get a nice, quick ride home. Mutually beneficial. The only problem is that, of course, hitchhiking alone is sketchy. But doing it in groups is just fine. This particular car had what my mom calls “4 by 40” air conditioning. 4 windows down, 40 miles per hour. After our uncomfortable ride to Kazaklia, it was positively refreshing.
For those who'd like to try this form of transportation for themselves, I wrote a post about important Russian phrases for to travelling by minibus on my short-lived Russian language blog.
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