We flew on time, we arrived on time at 01:30 hrs; the in-between, who knows. Transport awakens at 04:00 hrs in Budapest so I circled arrivals seeking an empty seat for a doze; eventually, success to wake with a cricked neck and a jog for the 200E bus; twenty minutes or so to Kőbánya-Kispest station and seventy-five minutes more before the 05:37 hrs train to Nyíregyháza.
An empty first-class compartment beckoned before settling into a three-hour nap. Within minutes, the ‘Fat Controller’ was upon me; some cheerful arm waving; a few ‘I no understand’ cut no ice; I was despatched to Carriage 22, Seat 105. An interesting concept given there were only eight carriages; but I found a Seat 105; at least it gave me half a chance. A twenty-minute connection in Nyíregyháza gives time for the essentials and one strong, black, no sugar; after all, it was now daylight. Onward we chugged to Zahony, the Hungarian border town.
And here, it becomes interesting. To cross to Ukraine, there is the option of taking the ‘maybe soon, maybe not soon, maybe not today’ shuttle train across the Tisza river or you search out a contraband Hungarian taxi; walking is not an option. As I left the station, I saw the driver who had taken me in June; 10 euros then, 40 euros now; we haggled, maybe Esperanto, and settled at 15 euros; it felt like a win.
As we approached the car, a man appeared with four new tyres; these were carefully loaded into the back seat, me in the front. We set off in convoy; four new tyres also in the front vehicle; today’s mystery. It quickly became apparent the lock on the passenger seat didn’t work; sliding backwards and forwards to the rhythm of the pedals; but, we made it.
From Chop, the Ukrainian border town, the most straightforward option is the public bus to Uzhhorod; I boarded; I looked at the driver, he looked at me. I offered 20 hryvnia; he pointed to the sky; 25, sky; 30, sky; 40 hryvnia (about 90p) did the trick and off we went; the journey to Uzhhorod takes about 45 minutes. I arrived in Uzhhorod at 12:30 hrs; my train to Kyiv 19:00 hrs; time to pass.
Peter the Priest, whom I have worked with since the start of the war is taking a well-deserved break, so I headed to the University to meet Viktória, Lecturer in English and who helped so much with the refugee crisis; at the height of this last summer, 8,000 refugees were living in University accommodation designed for 2,000. Viktória asked if I would do a question-and-answer session with her students (today’s picture); after a few exchanges I posed the question ‘what would be your dream for Ukraine after the war?’.
For sure, I had no idea what to expect; but, the answer I received was outside my boundary of expectations … … … I am thinking maybe I should organise an evening update so I can share more of my journey; watch this space.
The afternoon was before me. As I headed from the University, I crossed the historic Pishokhidnyy Mist pedestrian bridge over the River Uzh; in front of me, a new memorial; ten canvas-sided cubes, each more than two metres high; on each side of each cube, three fallen heroes, more than 100 from this city; each one, a Son, most probably a husband; many, likely a father. I am older than every fallen hero; I sometimes say it has become easier to keep a dry eye; sometimes, not.
I continued to Ungweiser Brewery where I could sit quietly; I renewed my acquaintance with Vitay, the owner; a couple of his wonderful ales, a plate of home-made Salzburg sausages and a meander to the train station. A small detour into a lovely little Ukrainian snack café; ‘one of those, one of those, one of those’ and I had my feast for the twelve-hour journey ahead.
The train pulled out of Uzhhorod station at 19:00 hrs; in Ukraine, 19:00 hrs means 19:00 hrs … … …
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