1 May 2010 – Basil, Dimitrij, Xenia
We are not going to give up easily in hitchhiking. Although we learned at the very beginning while crossing the border that in Russia hitching is not the most popular (and favourable) way of travelling. But our patience paid off. From Belgorod we managed to get to Kursk where we took a breath, changed some money and headed off up north.
On Friday morning we pulled out our thumbs and we caught the first car that day – very old and awfully dirty Kamaz, which picked us up for 60 km. Not much but at least we moved from the start point. Our joy did not last long though as than we waited for ages for another opportunity. It seemed that Russians did not know such a way of travelling. People tended to pretend they did not see us or waved to us thinking possibly that we were sending greetings to them, or even like a driver of a luxury jeep (despite our backpacks left beside) were asking for directions. Finally the honour of all Russian drivers was saved by Basil – Coca Cola deliverer from Caucasus. Taking us with him Basil was probably more happy about it than we were. We did 120 km with him. He shared all his hitching experience with us. The most interesting was the film with two Hari Krishna believers who were playing instruments and singing during the ride. We did not even try to compete with them. Basil did not mind – he was talking much, taking photos of us, and screaming “czajnik, czajnik” to every crazy driver on the road. In the end he gave us Caucasian mineral water, invited to Caucasus ensuring that it is more than safe up there. Would be good to check that out one day.
The next few hours turned to be completely fruitless. Our smiles to all passing drivers, covering a few kilometres distance on foot, begging glimpses or even late hour did not make a difference. We started to think we used all good luck for that day and we would have to use Basil’s water to wash our teeth and for breakfast tea somewhere in the woods. Our final goal was the next bend, we waived with our hands for the last time and miraculously a bus stopped. As a reply to the driver’s question where we would like to go we unanimously shouted “anywhere, provided we are far away from the forest, ideally to the closest town”. We jumped off the bus not in a town though but drove more than ten kilometres for free. While we were walking a truck passed us by and stopped just after a junction. We do not know how our fate works and send us coincidence. This time it was miraculous indeed. Dimitrij stopped his car in such an odd place to make some tea. While passing him by we just asked if he would take us to the nearest guest house. That is how we ended up in the truck which was designed for one passenger only. Further to this Dimitrij was going to Moscow, 350 km. We had a wonderful time listening Russian songs, talking about politics, Polish movies, Russian army and so on…everything in a mixture of Polish, Russian and sign language. We even managed to have supper on one of the car parks. Dimitrij called some of his friends telling them and laughing that he drove with two real Poles. We got an invitation to his family town near Ural while he was going in a few days time. Maybe we will meet there one day.
Moscow was closer and closer and we still did not have a place to stay. That is when Dimitrij proposed to drive with him to his track base where he was about to leave his goods. This is where the real contraband started. Security man and Dimitrij’s colleagues could not get to know that we were sleeping in the car. Tired we fell asleep immediately. Even loading the truck during the night did not disturb us. We were woken up by loud voices of the drivers. That was a perfect time for them to catch up with chats, jokes and telling long stories. No one was in a hurry. Apart from us of course. We felt that staying for more that 12 hours in a small cabin was a bit to much for us and dreamed about going out. We left the base short after that, or we were rather smuggled again.
We said goodbye to Dimitrij, exchanged our addresses (we wonder who would be the first to write a letter in Cyrillic alphabet) and we walked to the nearest bus station. Our aim was to find internet somewhere and find a reasonable accommodation opportunity. As far as we remembered the cheapest hostels in Moscow were for about 70 USD. We must have looked very disorientated when we got off a bus as one lady approached us and after a very short discussion offered a bed in her flat, totally free of charge. We exchanged looks at each other for a while but the sixth sense told us to trust her. In this case the following saying was more than true: show me your house and I will tell you who you are. Mrs. Xenia is an art renovator, paints, restores old buildings. She also spend three years in Australia working as a stenographer on one of the theatres there. Her flat literally tells stories about her. And here we are. After half an hour of arriving in her flat we were preparing dinner altogether, were instructed how to move around the city, and were given keys to the flat. Mrs. Xenia was like a fairy godmother, we just found ourselves in her range in a right place and right time. We might be very tiny in huge Moscow but our guardian angel must be huge here…
28 April 2010 - The tiny in great Russia.
Leaving Kharkov was not easy. Everyone who we asked for suggestions did have a totally different idea. In the end we decided to use a local private carrier. We did not need any more help to cross the border as we already had our Russian visas arranged in Poland. But applying for visas was truly a foretaste of the big bureaucracy that is awaiting us in Russian Federation. To get visa you need an invitation from a Russian citizen or so called a tourist voucher, accommodation reservation confirmation and a special insurance. Once you enter the county there is no time get relaxed though. You must not forget about the registration obligation. It means that if you want to stay in one place longer than 72 hours you need to report in the registration office or let any tourist agency to do that for you. If you are going to stay less than 3 days it is worth collecting any kinds of tickets or shopping receipts that will prove that you have not cheated the Russian authorities.
We convinced ourselves that either one have time or money. We did have time… and thermos with tea and some sandwiches. We needed that very much as waiting for the car that took us with us lasted over three hours.
Our first day in Russia, the biggest country in the world, its area is bigger than Europe, Australia and Antarctica altogether. Maybe that is why we could feel the power of the empire from the early beginning. We expected Belgorod to be a small and calm town need the Ukrainian border. We were shocked by its size and modernity. A clock on the main railway station reminded us to set our watches to Moscow time zone (plus 1 hour to the Ukrainian time). It was evening time. Our thermos was empty and we did not have any rubles with us. Two guys proposed money change to us but we stubbornly were looking for the official way to exchange dollars. We were convinced only when some militiamen asked about the exchange point pointed the guys we spoke to before. Not to bad than, we have rubles but still nowhere to sleep. Then the great Rasija showed us that there was nothing for free in there. We could not spend a night at the railway station (as we did in Lvov) so we headed to the restroom at the station. We were discouraged not only by the price (380 RUB/15USD for a dorm) but also by plenty of drunk and smelly men with carrier bags. The phenomenon increased our motivation to act fast and find a proper accommodation. People we asked on the street were sending us to luxury hotels situated in the town centre where prices were ridiculously high, starting from 4000 RUB/140 USD for a room. Guardian angels did care about us as after long wandering around the town with our super heavy backpacks they did sent a guy on our way who did tell us about the place called “Patriot”. We did not think too much and after half an hour we were there. But staying in the hotel was not a piece of cake at all.
The hotel was taken straight from early Polish People’s Republic times. Middle aged lady wearing an old overall and sitting on the other site of the about box was laconically and rapidly answering our question not even looking at us. In front of her there was a large notebook which contained all tenants of this odd place. Beside the lady there was an electric heater covered with ripped tights left to dry. After looking over our passports very thoroughly she gave us small pieces of paper (these were registration forms we reckoned). With a helping hand given by some locals who pretended to stay under the same roof with us, we rapidly filled the forms in and with unhidden pride gave them back. To our great surprise she glanced at the forms and returned them to us immediately saying they should be filled out in Russian. We tried to avoid struggling wit Cyrillic alphabet by explaining that we just needed to stay for one night only. With no success. Bureaucracy in Russia is truly ruthless. Luckily even an official is a man. The lady from the about box screamed something loud in Russian and in a few seconds a second lady in a coat. She took us to an old desk with a red carnation flower standing proudly in a crystal vase where we were dictating her our personal data which she jotted down in Russian marks. After our forms had been accepted eventually by the lady no 1, we waited a few minutes longer until all our details were transcribed in the big notebook. Than we received stamps which would be a confirmation for immigration officers that our stay in Russia was legal. In the end we were given a blanket and could calmly spend our first night in Russia.
The border crossing we reached driving form Kharkov only theoretically allows to enter Russia on foot. In practice we were swerving between cars waiting in a lane to cross the border. Despite we were well prepared in terms of documents needed to visit Russia we troubled immigration officers a bit they were not only looking at us with care but also making phone calls to their “friends” to make sure we do not do anything illegal.
