Onwards to Ukraine – My ArrivalFor those of you reading my pre-trip posts you’ll know I was a little nervous about entry to Ukraine because an error was made on my Visa. It was only one letter in my name which was incorrect but I’d heard many horror stories about Visa control and customs that I was convinced I was in for a world of pain.
What a day it turned out to be!
Once I’d said my goodbyes to Elfa and made my way to Riga airport I was confused with the maze on stairways and poor signage to the departure gates that I was convinced I would have to turn around and go back to Old Riga for the remainder of my trip.
I had in fact decided that if I was refused entry to Ukraine I would bite my lower lip and head to Budapest instead to see my ex-girlfriend who is now working there. If this did happen I had my story straight and I would explain to her several important things:
a) I was not there to marry her;
b) I would never marry her;
c) I think she’s lovely and we had a great time, but we’re not compatible so I wouldn’t marry anyone like her, and;
d) I like her a lot so if I can share a pillow or crash on her couch it’d be great… but I’m still not marrying her.
If I made it past that point I would ask her to introduce me to the blonde girl that was in a photo of her new staff because she’s less attractive than Anja but still looks like fun! (Hmmm… she might pick the lie about the “less attractive” bit but then again we are never getting married anyway!)
Thankfully I didn’t have to explain any of this because my entry to Ukraine was packed with surprises.
I had thought long and hard about the potential possibilities for the day and employed an old technique I used in my sporting days.
The night before big competitions we would visualize every movement for the day ahead.
From waking to breakfast, the car ride to the stadium, the warm up and the motivational moments prior to stepping onto the platform were all played out moment by moment. Imagining perfection and feeling the adrenaline build throughout the day brought us to a frame of mind that didn’t only imagine the scene, it inspired perfection.
Each lift (yes, it was a strength sport), bars whipping with free energy, all white lights, applause and cheers, unhappy faces of competitors and the beaming smiles and crushing bear hugs from coaches.
Everything wasn’t imagined, it was “real” in our minds eye.
So as my plane started it’s decent into Kiev I started my visualization… Alighting from the plane, walking up to the Visa Control Desk, looking into the eyes of some faceless nameless official… Oh damn… I didn’t have time for this. I’d never been to Borispol and I had no idea what to expect! What would I visualize…? I was fooling myself. This was never going to work.
I needed something else and FAST!
OMG… What to do… WHAT TO DO!
Then it hit me… This was a simple and successful technique that often helped me through daily life… Whenever I’m looking for a car park in a busy shopping centre I just think positively! “Yeah… that’ll work for sure!”
“Yo, dude, how goes you? I see you’re holding my flawed Visa in your hand and I know you’re dying to kick my a$$ but we both know deep down inside you’re a fun loving guy like me. Let me in… I mean no harm. I promise to only fall in love with one girl and I won’t even whisk her off to Australia for a long time yet”.
Well… that’s something like I was thinking but by the time the tyres screeched on Ukraine tarmac I was calm and at peace with the world. My grandfather came from here… I deserved to be here… and I definitely didn’t want to go to Budapest to fight a marriage with a girl who is frankly a little scary when I knew an awesome adventure awaited just past those doors.
I ignored some advice from several people (some here, some at home) to pay for the VIP service at Borispol because I thought that anything out of the ordinary might draw more attention to my entry and therefore I was happy to melt into the hoards and take a punt on the line up.
I have no idea where everyone went when we were approaching the Visa Control Desks because I arrived at the thin yellow line and only one person was ahead of me.
Damn! So much for the hoards!
I suspect my AirBaltic flight was heavily populated with Ukrainians and therefore everyone else went to a different aisle but I didn’t have a chance to get nervous or look suspicious because it was my turn and within moment I’d know my fate.
The girl behind the glass didn’t look attractive. She didn’t look like she was formally attractive. In fact, if I was pressed I would say she didn’t know any other girls who were attractive because her skin was badly flawed and her eyes were lifeless. This girl hadn’t lived and to be honest I’d say she was barely surviving.
Ahhhh… she hates her job. She doesn’t want any more hassle than she needs. I was confident I was…. [BANG]!
Yep… that BANG was “stamp hitting paper” and I was on my way. It was as easy as that!
The only other thing I was slightly worried about was getting through customs because again I’d heard may horror stories about corrupt officials and bribes being demanded in the form of “informal taxes”.
I was heavily laden with gifts so I thought if I was stopped and searched it was going to be hard to say the wine, run, books, CD’s, stuffed toys, chocolate and perfume were all for my personal use while away.
Actually, I might have gotten away with everything other than the stuffed Koalas because… well… lett’s be honest. How many stuffed koalas does one grown man need on a holiday to Ukraine?
My bags were already on the carousel and after loading up a trolley I took a few breathes and waited as one Ukrainian family (Mum, dad and child in tow) and an American in a cowboy hat steadied their loads and as they walked towards the green isle I followed.
“Ukraines are all GO!”
Cowboy hat… “Sir, please come over here”
Aussie on his first FSU adventure… “Walk dude, walk. Don’t look back!”
Ahhhh… I was through. Now to just find my “guide” and I’d be on my way.
I couldn’t believe it. A total of 15 minutes after stepping off the plane I was now searching for my ride to the city and not once did I ever think it would be that easy!
This trip was going to be a breeze!
So… after hearing the word Taxi forty times I danced with my trolley in circle after circle looking for someone holding a sign with my name on it. I remembered Riga and my driver unceremoniously throwing my name in the bin and I hoped in Kiev they at least waited until they got eye contact before disposing of your name.
Again and again I looked and then I started to worry that I had sent the wrong time in my “final itinerary” email.
OK, this wasn’t working so off I went in the crowded and fairly rundown terminal to find some Internet.
Yeah baby… nothing could stop me now… I was on a roll!
Three circles of the terminal and I decided my research on the Cyrillic alphabet might have failed me because I saw nothing that resembled Internet.
Finally I had to ask.
“Hello, do you speak English?”
Shaking head…
“Hello, do you speak English?”
Shaking head…
Hmmmm… then out of the blue one of the recently rejected taxi drivers said to me, “You need help?
What could I do??? “Yeah, I need Internet.”
“Come with me,” he said.
Damn… my roll had ended.
I was about to say “Yeah mate naah” when I noticed he wasn’t walking towards the doors but rather he was walking back up the terminal, from where I had come.
When we got to the café at the far end of the entry lounge he told me this was the Internet café and I could use the Internet there.
He also asked if I had cash because they wouldn’t accept cards and when I said no he walked me over to the currency exchange.
As I was waiting he asked why I was lost… and again if I needed a taxi.
I told him my friend was late so I just needed his number and he again told me “maybe you’ll need a taxi later.”
Hmmm… I couldn’t help it… “Yeah mate naah!”
Success… I had cash… back to the Internet café and after finally getting some service I logged onto the web and checked my mail.
Nope, no bad news… Yep, I’d sent the right time.
Enough was enough… I went back up to the arrives gate only to find my guide who, in a very nice way, berated me for walking off and explained that he was waiting there the whole time.
I know he wasn’t, and a few excuses later we were out into the cold.
Now, I have to say that as cold as it was in Kiev that afternoon it was nothing like Riga.
That wind in Riga was really something else so while I was getting apologies and explanations about the weather I was just staring outside and drinking in the new sights and sounds.
First stop was the apartment and I’ll always remember my initial impressions as we fiddled with the door and walked into the entrance hall.
Wow… I hope the apartment is nicer inside than it is on the outside.
After talking to the babushka in the glass box we got some keys and headed off upstairs.
Ahhhh… these lifts. It reminded me so much of Riga’s except this time I had me, my bags and another person squeezed in and crawling upwards.
Once we entered the apartment I was relieved because it was spacious, clean and functional.
We “jiggered” around in the apartment for a while and after paying for my stay I was a little frustrated that I had someone else taking control rather than living my usual “independent traveler” routine.
Questions, assumptions, where’s you phone, where’s your notebook computer, do this, do that… “Why the hell am I doing this and that,” I asked myself.
Finally we were off and down the hill, and I’ll add, at a gradient you just can’t appreciate on Google Earth. We walked to Independence Square and bought an Internet card from a punter who really couldn’t be making much of a living if he was playing the game straight.
Next we were off to a mobile phone shop and after looking at phones, talking about SIM cards and testing a few in my phone I decided to “Just Say No” and do this at my own pace later.
Again we were off and this time I wasn’t sure where because we had the Internet Card and we rejected the phone offers and yet we were still walking as if we were trying to avoid being noticed while knowing someone threatening was following. I looked around and noticed no one threatening so I stopped… and stopped… and stopped… and waited… and finally my guide stopped.
After returning he said “Hey man, where are you going? We have to go down here.”
I had to ask, and guessed I might have known the answer, but I said, “Where are we going” to which the response was “down here”.
I said no, we’re going back to the apartment but first I’m going to the toilet (yes, it was cold enough to inspire FSU… that’s Frequent and Sequential Urination”) to which he said, “Yeah, let’s go here!” And off we were again.
I suddenly wondered why Ukraine hadn’t won many more medals at the Olympics for the walking events because I was really struggling just to keep up!
Finally we got to a restaurant/bar on the main street (yes, you'll all know it but I can't remember the spelling YET!) and once inside I ask him to order a beer and something for himself and went off to the loo.
Hmmm… nice bathroom. Again I’d heard bad stories about Ukrainian loo’s but I was pleasantly surprised that not all amenities would induce nausea!
Back at the bar I received my change and a copy of the receipt he explained that he gets a discount here because he was a regular and I get the feeling this is where we were coming in the beginning so he could show me a bar and tell me about his discount.
After my beer and his water we were off again and this time (thankfully) back toward Independence Square. We get to the stairs for the Metro and I ask him where he’s going and he explained he was coming back to the apartment to help me with my Internet setup.
I explained it was fine… I wasn’t going straight back to the apartment and I was sure I could work out the set up later. With that he was off down the stairs and I had my first chance to stop, take a breath and drink in the sights.
Independence Square. I’d seen it so many times on the web and during the Orange Revolution I marveled at the people standing in the cold wishing for change and cheering for a better life.
It was an incredible feeling… knowing my grandfather had come from this place and my stepfather had come here when escaping the Russians and the Germans in his own homeland of Latvia.
It was very surreal… and I HATE the word surreal because it’s so clichéd.
Anyway… I was here and I was off. Kiev at my speed where I could experience my first few hours and develop the types of memories I wanted to take home.
Now… let me say something that’s very important. Some of you know who I am using as my guide while in Kiev and nothing I said above should take away from his good work. I am certain that he helped me and saved me time but I’m not here for a few days and I am not a first time traveler.
When I travel I like the experience to be an experience, and not a race. I’m still happy with my choice of guide and endorse the positive comments I’ve received from others prior to my trip.
So… that was my arrival in Kiev!
More was to come on this first night but I’ll leave that to the next chapter…
