Friends, Vova and I are in Dortmund. Let’s leave our lyrical emotions and tears for later. Now I will tell you how, when and in what exactly way we got to the final destination of our route Kyiv – Vinnytsia – Zakarpattia – Budapest – Munich – Dortmund.
From the second day, when our cities and Kyiv were hit by bomb attacks, I thought that I would have to take Vovka away. Moreover, I had an offer and all kinds of support from Serge Brichkin and awesome Amber Sven, who insistently offered to come to their place in Dortmund. I delayed the moment of making a decision in every way. I could not travel with my son when he was running a temperature, and with gasoline in the car fuel tank enough for only 140 kilometres.
However, the day before, I refuelled the car, drove into the deserted city and saw some checkpoints and entryways blocked with concrete slabs, car tires, and God knows what else. I saw people with machine guns, and empty houses. Vovka stopped having a fever and began to tremble anxiously when he did not see me near him, ‘Mum, where are you going?’
On the morning of Tuesday, 1 March, I got a strong feeling that I had to go right now. Not tomorrow, not the day after. Now.
After reading dozens of messages from you regarding the route and possible ways to get out of Kyiv, I made several calls, packed a suitcase and a backpack with documents, and packed my laptop. My husband helped me put the things in the trunk of the car and brought me the keys to our apartment, which I forgot in the hallway – so that I could definitely come back home [following a superstitious belief that one should not cross the doorstep if forgot something at home before leaving]. My husband stayed behind in Kyiv.
In my car, I was together with my son and an icon-painter Maryna, who managed to get to “Dzherela” literally “on the flag”. In another car was a family of our acquaintances whom the father of their family planned to take to Zakarpattia region. I was lucky to find fellow travellers.
Although I always have a cast-iron crowbar in my car cabin, but I am not so nutty to travel alone with my child through a combat zone and half of Ukraine’s territory.
We drove in the direction of the Odesa highway without any obstacles passing past the burning oil depot, Bila Tserkva (which was shelled an hour later) to Vinnytsia region. We passed through dozens of checkpoints, showed our documents, opened the car trunk and our suitcases, but there were no particular challenges as there were two women and a child in the car. An important note is that men were also let through, and they could go further.
We first refuelled our cars in Vinnytsia region. There was gasoline there and it was sold without any restrictions per car. We could also visit a toilet and give Vova some time to have a snack. While we were in the queue, car drivers with local license plates offered us some options of free overnight stays in sanatoriums or special centres. We are very thankful to them.
After seven hours of driving (just so you know, I never drove for more than two hours one way), we and the second family made a stop to spend the night at their friends’ place in a village near Vinnytsia.
Wednesday, 2 March. We left in the morning, almost immediately after the end of the curfew. We were driving by navigator in the direction of Zakarpattia region, bypassing Ternopil (because of huge traffic jams). At this stage, our destination was a hotel in the mountains (80 kilometres from Mukachevo) where my son and I needed to take a breath, spend the night, agree on a further travel route for the two of us, and then continue our travel.
In fact, we drove five hours longer than the estimated time, as the mountainous serpentine road, the snow and darkness did not play in our favour. I am thankful to the guys who at some point replaced me at the wheel, because after 23:00 I just feared to miss the turn of the road while Vova was sleeping in the front seat. And I could miss it easily indeed.
An important note: the farther west from Kyiv, the less thorough were the inspections of cars and the softer was the tone of questions.
Nobody examined the car and did not even always look at the documents. It was enough to say that you were from Kyiv. Basically, when checking the car cabin, the question asked was if there were any men inside.
On the border with Zakarpattia region, before the checkpoint, we got into a huge traffic jam (which took us one and a half to two hours). The line moved slowly. The men who passed the checkpoint were handed draft notices requiring them to register in Uzhgorod within three days and become part of the territorial defence units. After that, we could move on.
We got to the hotel after one o’clock in the morning. Please note that it is virtually impossible to pay for accommodation with a bank card in that area. My friends helped me out with that.
Thursday, 3 March. On this day, I had to make one of the most difficult decisions in my life – to move further towards Europe together with my son. Thursday, 3 March. On this day, I had to make one of the most difficult decisions in my life – to move further towards Europe together with my son.
After breakfast, a litre of tears and numerous arguments from my family trying to persuade me to stay in Ukraine for another week or two, I called Serge Brichkin and together with him I drew a travel route for the next day.
The idea to go further by car was abandoned for safety reasons and from considerations of common sense. That is why I was looking for a carrier (a bus or a car) that would take us from Uzhgorod or Mukachevo to Budapest. I went through several options. The departure time varied, as did the price of the services (30-40 euros per person).
Thanks to a colleague Alex Nigmatulin, we managed to contact a trusted carrier. In fact, those guys work without a fixed fee, for a donation, to cover the fuel cost. If you have money, you can transfer a comfortable amount of money to the bank card. If you don’t have any money, they will take you just for free.
In Budapest, I transferred a certain amount to the carrier company’s bank card.
I left with little money, as I was living from paycheck to paycheck and invested everything in our new apartment, but thanks to the decency and support of my employer, thanks to my friends and family, I could make sure that my son slept on the bed and did not starve. That is why while travelling I followed the principle: do not take the place of someone who is worse off than you, and share with others if I have the opportunity to do so.
Friday, 4 March. On Friday morning, my son and I left in the direction of Mukachevo. The car navigator, which showed 40 kilometres to the destination the day before, suddenly showed 80 kilometres along a mountainous serpentine road. We drove down the road hard and long. Vova felt travelsick and I had some panic attacks because of the altitude, while the carrier was waiting.
Having reached Mukachevo despite those difficulties, I gave the keys and documents for my car to my friends (until better times, I hope) and moved with my son to the carrier’s vehicle. Half an hour later, we (three families with children) were brought to Kosyno and dropped off. Alexander instructed us three times how to go through the procedure and left, leaving the contact details of another carrier. Ivan was waiting for us on the other side and was supposed to take us to Budapest.
We queued in the open air, in the wind, for about three hours. Ukrainians travelling by car had the priority. I regretted that I had not taken a blanket with me. I could wrap Vovka up in it – it was very cold.
When we got to the booth and showed two biometric passports, I had to show my son’s birth certificate, since we have different family names. After that, we walked some five hundred meters and the procedure was repeated on the border with Hungary.
Here the queue moved many times faster. There was a girl who was an interpreter. Children were given chocolate bars immediately. Right there outside, in a specially designated place, two workers checked our things and escorted us to a special minibus that takes refugees to a warming point. When the driver picked up my suitcase and heavy backpack, my lips trembled for the first time that day.
We were dropped off five minutes later. Volunteers and interpreters were there. People could warm up, go to the toilet, change a child’s diaper, take some water, paper towels and wet wipes, have some cookies, sweets and fruits.
If you have nowhere to go or you want to get the refugee status in Hungary, volunteers help to address the issue. Since we had our own destination, we thanked them for their help and boarded the minibus, which after three and a half hours dropped us off at Keleti train station in Budapest. We needed a train ticket to Munich.
I was afraid for nothing. At Keleti, inside the old railway station, there was a huge number of volunteers. There was a free Wi-Fi zone, some stands with food, hot tea, coffee, fruits, cookies and other snacks. There you could also get some paper towels, napkins, toothpaste and soap. Most importantly, there were people there who immediately offered help and informed us about the queue we need to join in order to get a ticket (the ticket itself was issued free of charge upon showing your documents, but you need to pay three euros to get an assigned seat).
The queue was huge. Very huge. We stood there for two hours and lost any hope of taking the train to Munich that same evening or at night.
For those who did not have the opportunity to organize an overnight stay, volunteers helped to solve the problem. In particular, a girl who was an interpreter offered us her home for an overnight stay, but Vovka and I decided that someone needed it more. Therefore, we took a ticket for the morning train and spent the night in a hotel near the station. And it was good.
Saturday, 5 March. At 09:50, my son and I left for Munich, hoping to be in time for the transfer to the evening train that goes to Dortmund. We travelled through Hungary and Austria, and on the border with Germany, the train stopped for an indefinite time.
The police was checking the documents. Many people were dropped off the train so that they could continue their journey after registration, taking other train though. At least, that was said in the announcement that was played many times in the train car. As I understood, this primarily applied to families in which the husband was a foreigner or to families with children who did not have a biometric passport, but had only a birth certificate.
We arrived in Munich late. Here, they constantly announced through a loudspeaker, in Ukrainian, that Ukrainians who needed help could turn to volunteers at the station. The “menu” was the same: compassion, help, consultations, hot tea, sandwiches, and hygiene items.
Despite the fact that one hour was left before the nearest train to Dortmund, we managed to get a ticket.
We are at our friends’ place now and we are safe.
Thanks to each of you for your involvement, information, sympathy, readiness to receive us, give us shelter, place for overnight stay, accommodation and offer any help. I am lost for words because Vovka and I did the impossible only thanks to other people’ involvement and their big hearts.
