Leaving Ukraine for Russia

The intrepid four leave for Russia: Read their concluding impressions of Ukraine and of crossing the border into Russia! Will it be a repeat of the entry into Ukraine or will it proceed smoothly? Read on to find out!


Steve Dew Jones:

Back in the glasshouse that is the Hyatt, but this time we’re in the capital of Ukraine, Kyiv. Apparently much of this grand city has been standing tall for one thousand years and the domed churches of saints Andrew and Sofia still shine resplendently.

The drive here was comparatively short and relatively bump-free. Departing at 9am, we arrived just six and a half hours later, whereupon we strolled the famous cobbled street, St. Andrews Descent, and treated ourselves to a dinner of Shashlik – Slavonic for “kebabs”. Since then we’ve enjoyed a blissfully long sleep in the gloriously comfortable beds of the Hyatt, and remain upbeat despite our rude awakening at 8am – far too early for cleaners to start work in my opinion.


Sophie Ibbotson:

I feel at home in Ukraine – it feels a lot like being back in Kyrgyzstan, only without the mountains. As you leave the cities there are long, straight roads with surfaces of varying quality. There are tall trees either side of the carriageway, and white stripes have been painted at the base of their trunks in a half-hearted substitute for street lighting. Every other car is a creaking Lada, while the occasional brave motorcyclist does battle with the pot holes and patchy gravel.

The style of housing is also the same. There are painted breeze block bungalows with roofs of corrugated asbestos. Fodder is stored under the eaves to keep the animals going through the winter, and every home has an immaculately kept vegetable patch. Occasional chickens peck and scratch on the verge, scrawny dogs sun themselves in the road and bark as the cars go by, and head-scarved babooshkas sit selling apples and watching the world go by.

For the first time on this trip, the standard of driving has started to deteriorate. The one litre bottles of vodka for sale in the petrol stations, stacked on shelves between the Pepsi and the Evian, may have something to do with it. We’re on our guard against the potentially erratic driving of our fellow motorists, and we give them a wide berth. We endeavor to arrive at our destinations long before dark and the drunks come out to drive.


Jo Dew-Jones:

On the way to the Russian border.

We’ve just turned onto the main road to head the short 10 miles to the border, and since we were here yesterday, our visas only started today they’ve painted a white line in the middle! That’s impressive progress. Ah, we’ve just passed the van doing the work.

It’s a short way to go in distance, but I fear that the ease with which we pass through is not likely to correlate positively. If the Ukrainian border officials were, well, officious, then surely the Russians will be no less resistant to us entering? Best case scenario, through we go, have a nice time. I’m, not going to spell out a worst case scenario as that is asking for trouble, but this time we are better prepared: cookies, bread, water and more water. Come on Russki, let us in!

Shevchenko, etc

The Hyatt Kiev, where we spent
Two nights was rather opulent.
The walls were soundproofed, and this leant
To sleeping jolly well.

They were, though, less benevolent
Than Köln, and breakfast left a dent
Quite large, the price exorbitant!
We all ate jolly well.

In Kiev, everywhere we wen
Were churches quite magnificent
And landmarks like Andrew’s Descent
Which went down jolly well.

The food, too, aided enjoyment –
The Chicken Kiev (pertinent)
Was yum, and in sum, all this meant
Our stay went jolly well.

14.17 (Russian time)
BORDER DANCE! Woop woop de woop!

Though it has taken as long as the Polish-Ukraine passing, it has not felt nearly so arduous. The whole time was taken up with actual protocol, which is far more bearable. There were no bureaucratic hitches this time, oh no.

Russia! Mm hmm.