Travelling in the Time of Coronavirus

Letters from Kiev: Number One

I was meant to be here in July. Then it was going to be September. Third time lucky, I finally got away in October, just over a week ago. Now here I am in Kiev, for three months. I will study Russian, work remotely and write.

Coronavirus has thwarted everyone’s plans this year. I feel a little selfish for my small fuss when others have lost so much more. But this year was supposed to be my big new life change, to being properly semi-retired, a ‘digital nomad’ travelling the world and writing, working on my book, posting blogs and earning a bit of money along the way.

I had planned a lovely, long slow summer, travelling by train over 4 months around Europe — before the Brexit portcullis descends on Britain and ends our free movement. I had a detailed plan: day and night trains to Vienna, then the slow train to Budapest. Onward through Romania, Moldova to Odessa in the south of Ukraine, then more slow trains up to Kiev. A few weeks in Kiev, studying Russian at a language school, then home through Poland, Germany and Netherlands. All of this was cancelled in mid-April, in the first European lockdown. I was philosophical and settled into life in the gorgeous Yorkshire Dales, where I live. I did my Russian study online, as my Kiev language school adapted their business model. Life gradually opened up. In July and August, my country town was overrun by British ‘staycation’ tourists, but it felt safe and relaxed.

Too relaxed really. By mid-August I was starting to feel stir crazy. The language school in Kiev announced that they were reopening for face-to-face study. I wanted to get out. Travel was possible again, although the UK Foreign Office advised against going to Ukraine (in spite of permitting travel to many countries with far worse Covid records, a policy more political than scientific). I investigated, corresponded with people in Kiev, found flights and an insurer who would provide travel insurance. Slightly unnervingly, their insurance was designed for war correspondents. I am covered for hijacking and acts of terrorism, but not for Covid. I bought it anyway, mainly in case of having to return at short notice to my elderly parents. The Ukrainian government required me to purchase additional state health insurance for Covid cover, but not to self-isolate. I was set to go in the first week of September.

I planned to be away for three months. I prepared to shut down my house, briefing my lovely neighbours to watch over it, offering it to family in case they wanted to take a holiday there, writing detailed instructions on how everything worked. Rather than my earlier plans of travelling around the country, which now seemed risky, I elected to stay in Kiev, to live like a local resident. I made enquiries, booked an apartment.

Five days before I was due to travel, the Ukrainian government announced that they were closing the border for one month. Only Ukrainian nationals and those foreign nationals with work permits could enter. I was devastated. After all the adjustments and small-scale stresses of this year, after having psyched myself up to take some risks and made all the preparations, this disappointment hit me much harder than the earlier cancellation. I felt bereaved at the loss of a three month adventure. How much worse must it feel for those who are knocked back from starting a new job, a new career, starting a university course, moving to a new house?

Fortunately, against all my expectations, the Ukrainian border reopened after a month. When it had closed in late August, I had rebooked my flight — to a seemingly arbitrary date just six days after the proposed reopening date. With just a few days’ notice, I decided to travel anyway — before someone or something prevented me again!

So, I travelled here last Monday. It was a rather more stressful journey than it would have been in normal times. I set off from Manchester Airport on the first leg to Amsterdam, arriving at the check-in desk the requisite two hours before departure and finding a queue that was large, but not unusually so. We waited, restlessly, as a passenger argued with the desk clerk for ten minutes, twenty minutes. He did not get through. They sent him off, clearly disgruntled. Someone said they needed to phone through to Canada. Something to do with entry restrictions. The man in front of me was going to Mexico City, for work. He told me he had needed to get a ‘Covid-free certificate’, only available privately at a cost of £165. This was required by many countries, apparently, and would enable him to enter without a period of quarantine. Twice more we watched as passengers and the desk clerk had long negotiations, before being sent back, unable to travel. I could only imagine the disappointment they must feel. Everyone was worried, the stress was palpable.

It took over an hour to get through check-in, followed by the usual stringent security checks. I only just made it to the gate in time and others were even later. Amazingly, though, the flight left just a few minutes late. A gentleman got on right at the last minute and sat on my row (socially distanced, only two out of the three seats were being used), sweating and traumatised. He had only just got there in time.

It wasn’t until I got through Amsterdam airport and was sitting at the gate for my second leg to Kiev that I started to relax and feel some sense of excitement. My plane on the tarmac, with its Ukraine Airlines livery, waited invitingly.

I arrived at Borispol Airport, Kiev, where there were more extra controls in place. My temperature had been taken on each flight. Now they took it again. There was a group of people in a cluster, filling in forms and being asked questions. I expected to join them. But I was lucky: I proffered my passport and was allowed through, after confirming I had only passed through Amsterdam in transit. In another bizarre rule from this ‘new normal’, UK was on Ukraine’s ‘green list’, while Netherlands was on the ‘red list’, although the former has far higher case numbers than the latter. At passport control, there were no difficult questions, just a request to show my Ukrainian health insurance policy and I was through. They had let me in the country!

Something that we would have taken for granted in the past now seems like a great achievement. To be able to travel to the other side of the continent, to spend a few weeks in a different country, to move freely within a new culture: it is a privilege and a joy to be treasured. And I plan to do so.