Tag police

We anticipated a bit of hassle crossing the Ukrainian border into Russia, but we in no way were prepared for the events that transpired when we finally reached the Ukrainian departure point and the Russian entry border. It was 6:30pm when we pulled into a line of cars to exit Ukraine, the line stretched from the gates ahead of us which were barely visible, to well behind us only minutes after our arrival. We got out of the car, as did members of the Mongol Schumachers and the Face Race team. When we needed to move forward in line we all pushed our cars in neutral—making quite a scene for the bored Ukrainians milling about drinking beer and waiting their turn in line.

Finally reaching the front, we were given the royal treatment. Out three cars were pulled over to a special spot while we filled out our customs forms. Bugs were out in full force and it was still over 90 degrees. We were all drenched in sweat, and, having not found a shower for the past three days we were not exactly an eye-pleasing sight. It was no wonder, then, that the border guards gave us wary looks as we scribbled our information down and collapsed on the hood of the car. We got our passports stamped and, headed to the next window. Three guards asked me for a present. I said I didn’t understand and flashed my best ‘don’t I look like Drew Berrymore’ smile. They smiled back and said, “You know, Thomas Jefferson is my friend. All the presidents are my friend.” I smiled and said they were my friends too. What a creative way to ask for money, really. I wasn’t unimpressed. The guard held up a small Ukrainian coin and said “Thomas Mark, you have?” Bill and Mike, having come up behind me, interpreted this to mean he was a coin collector. Someone rushed to the car and found a nikle that had been rolling around the back seat for the past two weeks. The guard took it, laughing, and then asked for a coin from the British team behind us. Perhaps he really was a coin collector. So, after about 2 hours, we were officially out of Ukraine! Does a nickel count as a bribe? I’m going to say no on that.

We drove off, it was dark now so we rounded a corner and were confronted with an unwelcoming sight. The line for the Russian border was as long as the Ukrainian one had been. We got out of our cars and snacked on food found in the truck or between seat cushions. We played games, told stories and all the while we pushed our car down the line. Finally at the front, we got stamped into Russia and we piled back into our car, shocked at how easy the crossing was. We had heard it would be the hardest border yet, and one that no one could make it through without paying a bribe. As we sped the car up we exchanged smiles and then, when a customs official jumped in front of the car with a waving flashlight, we watched each other’s smiles turn into straight lines.

We were instructed to pull the car into a dark parking lot with no cameras or lighting. A dog was in a nearby cage barking at the stray cats that strolled by tauntingly. Bill, who has the car in his name, was sent to talk with the guards alone. We waited….and waited….. we played with the cats and dogs, we counted stars, we exchanged life stories with members from the other two rally cars, and we even got to the point of collapsing on the hood of our cars again, preparing to nap. Finally, Bill returned having paid no bribe but having purchased our auto insurance for Russia. Two guards accompanied him to the car with flashlights. “Here it comes.” I thought. I knew we have booze in the trunk (what respectable rallier doesn’t?) as well as a few strange items like a hatchet and pocket knives which I was concerned might raise questions. But, the guards were our age and very jovial. They asked if we had a present for them, and we said we didn’t. They asked for a small bottle of booze, so we offered them cigarettes, which they didn’t want. They saw a bottle of beer we had picked up in Romania for free, and the younger of the two officers stuck it in his pocket and said, “this is gift for me.” Since it was a skunky beer that had been in a heated trunk for 4 days we were happy to have it disposed of, and smiled as we shook hands and said our farewells. Does a beer count as a bribe?

Crossing any protected border is a bit of a pain. Over the past few years we’ve had our fair share of problems at various border crossings. In China, we were told we had swine flu at one border and nearly quarantined. In Turkey we were stuck in no-man’s land trying to buy a visa. In Turkmenistan we were held for over a day trying to catch the border-ferry out. In Azerbaijan we were lectured about the evils of their neighbors and forced to promise never to visit Armenia. So, when we came to the Ukrainian border we were not that worried. No matter what problems arise, you always find a way through them.

We had already waited several hours to go through the exit procedures for Moldova. We drove through no-man’s land and waited in a huge line to enter Ukraine. The line inched forward slowly, and rather than waste gas we simply put the cars in neutral and pushed them. This drew the strangest compilation of stares from other motorists and, of course, the Ukrainian border guards. We’ve since learned that these gentlemen don’t have a sense of humor.

Round one is the maze. Basically, you run from window to window trying to figure out what they want and how to deliver it. One window wants your passport, one wants the car registration, one insurance, one just wants to look at you and whisper to their fellow guards, and one window has no purpose at all. While we were jostling for space at the windows another rally team walked up and introduced themselves. They drove an ambulance and had been held at the border for the past four hours since their V5 form was missing. In case you don’t know, it is required that you mail in your V5 form in the UK before exiting the country, so of course no one has the form! This was impossible to explain. The other team was waiting for someone from the embassy to call back and explain this to the guards.

We stayed in line and eventually a guard came around the window and took Bill into a back room. We assumed this had something to do with either asking for a bribe or demanding we find our V5 form. After twenty minutes Bill emerged and said the guard just wanted to chat, practice his English. We finally got our passports stamped and our registration returned to us. Since I had not driven in quite a while I hoped in the driver’s seat and edged us out of the border area and into the straight away.

The feeling of finally being out of the border area was so overwhelming that I wasn’t entirely surprised when I came flying over a hill and saw the police. A huge smile washed over the officer’s face when he aimed the radar gun. It was already too late. I slammed on the breaks but the gun was already coming down to his side and his other arm was waving me over. Bill and Mike had done most of the driving, I drive for five minutes and I’m pulled over in Ukraine.

The cop came up to the window (confused at first as to why the steering wheel was on the wrong side) and showed me the radar gun. 76 in a 60. Not bad! I smiled and said I was sorry, but he walked back to his cruiser, waving me with him. I followed him up the hill (it had taken me a while to stop due to the speed/incline) and he started writing me a ticket. I told him I had no money and didn’t know that I was speeding. I explained that I thought the speed limit was 80, so in all actuality I was actually under the limit. He laughed and kept writing the ticket. I started to look desperate and told the other officer to help me explain the situation to the man writing the ticket. He never took the radar gun off the hill and every time someone swept by under the limit he would shrug and smile and look dejected. The ticket-man was explaining to Mike, who had joined us on the hill, that I owed 250 rubles. I said I had no rubles and started to shift my weight from foot to foot, looking lost. I was about to play the ‘cry on command’ card when the ticket man finally looked up and said ‘go.” I repeated this back to him and then smiled. I wanted to hug them both but thought better of it at the last moment and shook their hands instead. Mike ran down the hill and I followed. Despite the small fiasco I decided to keep driving. This time, under the limit a few notches.