19-10-2006
Yelets - Ukraine
The main road from Yelets to Aryol (Orel) is the one I follow up to Zmyevka. There I can follow local roads that will lead me to Trosna and the highway that will take me to Ukraine via Zheleznogorsk. Following the highway to Aryol would be a detour. Local roads scare me a bit: they are usually in a bad state and road signs are mainly absent. This local road was no exception and I did some extra kilometres going back and forth trying to find the right road. I did manage to find it in the end. The highway from Trosna to Ukraine via Zheleznogorsk is a straight line on the map and continues well into Ukraine up to about 80kms from Kyiv. By the way, you can't say Kiev anymore. That is the Russian pronunciation. The Ukrainian government is working hard to become buddies with the EU. Hence all that is Russian is bad. Also the way we pronounce the name of their capital. So not Kiev, but Kyiv.
The road from Trosna to Ukraine turned out to be crap all the way. Pardon my French, but I have no other words to describe this road. It is bad, bad, bad. It was really getting on my nerves. The absence of any distraction whatsoever makes it all the more bad. It is really just a straight road all the way to the M1 in Ukraine. About 300kms. Is it to keep Russians from travelling to Ukraine or vice versa ... I have no clue. I learn later that most people choose to go via Belarus because of the bad quality of this road. I cannot go via Belarus, I have no visa. Ukraine is free to visit by Europeans.
Well, what exactly does free mean? The Ukrainian border guards are not inclined to let you pass for free. It already started at the first checkpoint. You need to fill in a small form to start the procedure. The, at first, friendly Ukrainian border guard offered to fill it in for me as I do not really write perfect Ukrainian. Before actually starting to write anything he asked if I might not ,by any chance, have a present for him ... some money for example. I thought I maybe misunderstood, but when I realized he was serious I just laughed and said no. His friendly appearance was gone instantly and I was free to fill out the form myself. I had hoped the corruption would stop in Russia, but I had no such luck.
By the way, to go back in time a bit, my exit from Russia was a test for my nerves too. Just before the border checkpoint, I was given the last Russian present and it will be one I will remember for a long time. They were repairing the bad road and had the usual signs put up like "work in progress, go slow". The sun was already low, so the sun was reflecting on the road for the last half hour. Because of this I did not notice that the construction strip was freshly coated with tar. When I noticed the truck spraying the tar I knew enough: this tar was not cold enough yet to stick to the road. Indeed, my Ural now has a perfect undercoating of tar. You will see this in the photo. I have not washed my Ural since leaving Belgium, so I hope the base coat of dirt will sort of make it easier for me to wash off the tar. It's all part of the adventure and it does make the bike look 'ridden', so I did not waste one tear over this slight mishap. Also to my consolation I noticed a shiny new Chrysler 300M that now featured a two-tone paint job of metallic grey and black tar from the door handles down. That is worse I guess.
Passing the Russian border was actually pretty easy up to the point where they wanted to see the last pictures I made with my camera. All of a sudden this KGB officer is summoned and he wants to see all my pictures. Yes, all my pictures ... about 600-700MB. I am slightly pissed off. God forbid I would have any pictures with me that would jeopardize the security of the State. Interesting side note: the forbidden and secret town of Seversk near Tomsk is clearly visible on Google Earth. You can find the coordinates on Wikipedia. Silly people ... the KGB does not exist anymore, they just have a different name now. Anyway, he escorts me, my camera and laptop to his office and starts looking. I think he by now realizes that this is crazy and just looks at the first ones and copies some pictures from Dresden. He asks all sorts of questions about my trip, but mostly about my budget. We talk a bit and I get the feeling he is just curious about Europe. He wants to make a trip there. I guess leaving Russia is still a dream for the majority and reality for a few. Anyway, we are not in there really long and I can go on my way. By now all my papers are checked and I am good to go. One last look east and I say goodbye to Russia.
Where were we? Oh yes, Ukraine. My first experience with Ukraine is a border guard asking for money to help me out. Great. To my luck the small form is in English too, so I manage to get it filled in properly after the third try and the border guard sends me on to the next stop. News spread fast and the officers are glad to see me. I hand them my documents and am instructed to park my motorcycle on the side as this will take long. My documents disappear and I wait for further instructions. After standing there for a while I enquire what I need to do now, but nobody is really helpful. They only (want) to speak Russian or Ukrainian. Eventually they tell me I have to fill in the customs declaration form. This document is only available in Russian and Ukrainian. I have problems believing this, but they assure me they do not have it in English. Beside my name, nationality and passport number I cannot understand what the paper says. Of course they offer to help, but help is not for free. I refuse to give them anything. I am starting to get really aggravated, but my mind is made up: they are not getting one kopeka from me. I just inform them I do not write in Russian or Ukrainian and that they should help me. They just stand there and ignore me. I know this game. I just wait. They cannot keep me here forever. I am not hungry or thirsty so I can keep this up for a while. I have the phone number for the Belgian embassy in Ukraine, so if I am still here by morning I will give them a call. In the end, the waiting game is the tactic to follow. Once they realize you have all the time in the world and are not willing to give them any 'presents', they will help you. Somehow 'helping' is not the correct word here. So after an hour or two a guy comes up and fills in the declaration with the required data. After that it still takes an hour for the 'stamp jockey' to finish all the red tape involved. Once I have everything in order they let me go without even checking my luggage. It is already late, so I check into the first hotel I encounter. I bought insurance and exchanged my last Rubles before I crossed the border. By the way, the road here is just as crappy as in Russia. Welcome to Ukraine.
The main road from Yelets to Aryol (Orel) is the one I follow up to Zmyevka. There I can follow local roads that will lead me to Trosna and the highway that will take me to Ukraine via Zheleznogorsk. Following the highway to Aryol would be a detour. Local roads scare me a bit: they are usually in a bad state and road signs are mainly absent. This local road was no exception and I did some extra kilometres going back and forth trying to find the right road. I did manage to find it in the end. The highway from Trosna to Ukraine via Zheleznogorsk is a straight line on the map and continues well into Ukraine up to about 80kms from Kyiv. By the way, you can't say Kiev anymore. That is the Russian pronunciation. The Ukrainian government is working hard to become buddies with the EU. Hence all that is Russian is bad. Also the way we pronounce the name of their capital. So not Kiev, but Kyiv.
The road from Trosna to Ukraine turned out to be crap all the way. Pardon my French, but I have no other words to describe this road. It is bad, bad, bad. It was really getting on my nerves. The absence of any distraction whatsoever makes it all the more bad. It is really just a straight road all the way to the M1 in Ukraine. About 300kms. Is it to keep Russians from travelling to Ukraine or vice versa ... I have no clue. I learn later that most people choose to go via Belarus because of the bad quality of this road. I cannot go via Belarus, I have no visa. Ukraine is free to visit by Europeans.
Well, what exactly does free mean? The Ukrainian border guards are not inclined to let you pass for free. It already started at the first checkpoint. You need to fill in a small form to start the procedure. The, at first, friendly Ukrainian border guard offered to fill it in for me as I do not really write perfect Ukrainian. Before actually starting to write anything he asked if I might not ,by any chance, have a present for him ... some money for example. I thought I maybe misunderstood, but when I realized he was serious I just laughed and said no. His friendly appearance was gone instantly and I was free to fill out the form myself. I had hoped the corruption would stop in Russia, but I had no such luck.
By the way, to go back in time a bit, my exit from Russia was a test for my nerves too. Just before the border checkpoint, I was given the last Russian present and it will be one I will remember for a long time. They were repairing the bad road and had the usual signs put up like "work in progress, go slow". The sun was already low, so the sun was reflecting on the road for the last half hour. Because of this I did not notice that the construction strip was freshly coated with tar. When I noticed the truck spraying the tar I knew enough: this tar was not cold enough yet to stick to the road. Indeed, my Ural now has a perfect undercoating of tar. You will see this in the photo. I have not washed my Ural since leaving Belgium, so I hope the base coat of dirt will sort of make it easier for me to wash off the tar. It's all part of the adventure and it does make the bike look 'ridden', so I did not waste one tear over this slight mishap. Also to my consolation I noticed a shiny new Chrysler 300M that now featured a two-tone paint job of metallic grey and black tar from the door handles down. That is worse I guess.
Passing the Russian border was actually pretty easy up to the point where they wanted to see the last pictures I made with my camera. All of a sudden this KGB officer is summoned and he wants to see all my pictures. Yes, all my pictures ... about 600-700MB. I am slightly pissed off. God forbid I would have any pictures with me that would jeopardize the security of the State. Interesting side note: the forbidden and secret town of Seversk near Tomsk is clearly visible on Google Earth. You can find the coordinates on Wikipedia. Silly people ... the KGB does not exist anymore, they just have a different name now. Anyway, he escorts me, my camera and laptop to his office and starts looking. I think he by now realizes that this is crazy and just looks at the first ones and copies some pictures from Dresden. He asks all sorts of questions about my trip, but mostly about my budget. We talk a bit and I get the feeling he is just curious about Europe. He wants to make a trip there. I guess leaving Russia is still a dream for the majority and reality for a few. Anyway, we are not in there really long and I can go on my way. By now all my papers are checked and I am good to go. One last look east and I say goodbye to Russia.
Where were we? Oh yes, Ukraine. My first experience with Ukraine is a border guard asking for money to help me out. Great. To my luck the small form is in English too, so I manage to get it filled in properly after the third try and the border guard sends me on to the next stop. News spread fast and the officers are glad to see me. I hand them my documents and am instructed to park my motorcycle on the side as this will take long. My documents disappear and I wait for further instructions. After standing there for a while I enquire what I need to do now, but nobody is really helpful. They only (want) to speak Russian or Ukrainian. Eventually they tell me I have to fill in the customs declaration form. This document is only available in Russian and Ukrainian. I have problems believing this, but they assure me they do not have it in English. Beside my name, nationality and passport number I cannot understand what the paper says. Of course they offer to help, but help is not for free. I refuse to give them anything. I am starting to get really aggravated, but my mind is made up: they are not getting one kopeka from me. I just inform them I do not write in Russian or Ukrainian and that they should help me. They just stand there and ignore me. I know this game. I just wait. They cannot keep me here forever. I am not hungry or thirsty so I can keep this up for a while. I have the phone number for the Belgian embassy in Ukraine, so if I am still here by morning I will give them a call. In the end, the waiting game is the tactic to follow. Once they realize you have all the time in the world and are not willing to give them any 'presents', they will help you. Somehow 'helping' is not the correct word here. So after an hour or two a guy comes up and fills in the declaration with the required data. After that it still takes an hour for the 'stamp jockey' to finish all the red tape involved. Once I have everything in order they let me go without even checking my luggage. It is already late, so I check into the first hotel I encounter. I bought insurance and exchanged my last Rubles before I crossed the border. By the way, the road here is just as crappy as in Russia. Welcome to Ukraine.
posted by Anonymous | 3:00 pm
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