Motorhome Trip to Russia

Day 37: Friday 18th September

 

Early mist over the fields is soon clearing and we’re on our way to Odessa. Traffic police have a greater presence now and we are stopped near Nikolajev for a minor infringement. A peculiar road design requires people joining a dual carriageway from a T junction (as we did) to cross one carriageway and then join a slip lane in the centre of the road before merging into the fast lane. There’s no traffic about so I move straight across into the nearside lane, ignoring the slip lane in the middle of the road. It’s obviously a common practice as the local police have a car and two scammers waiting a hundred metres down the road. We are pulled in. The older guy explains my error. I apologise and explain it to Jill, pointing out the slip lane. I thank the guy for pointing it out and turn to go when he says to fetch the dokumenti. I comply and they are handed over to the young guy sitting in the car. The older guy returns to his position at the roadside waiting for the next victim, who doesn’t take long to appear – an artic lorry who would have no chance whatsoever of turning into the slip lane even if he thought it a good idea! He’s hailed down too.

 

Meanwhile the young bloke in the car appears to be completing a form for his previous victim. I notice that the form is strangely already filled in – it’s a photocopy but he’s scribbling across it as if it was fresh.

 

I hand over a photocopy of my IDP and he asks for the original. I return with it and he puts it on the seat beside him. He prattles on about having to complete the forms – the ‘protocol’ – I nod and wait for him to get started. He then explains that when he fills it out I will have to take it to a bank and pay over a ‘cheque’ for the fine before the offence is cleared. I nod again and say OK. He doesn’t start but just repeats again what he has to do. I realise that what he wants is for me to suggest a simpler solution whereby we just give him some cash instead. I don’t make any such offer because I realise he is struggling with us foreigners who will be difficult to bring in. For my own satisfaction I tell him in English to get on with the protocol so we can get to the bank – and then I say after that I will phone the British Embassy and find out how to appeal. He wouldn’t have understood any of this except perhaps the hand-sign that I would be making a phone call.

 

The older guy is now arguing with the artic driver who must be challenging the stupid rule they are ostensibly enforcing. I also argue with him, raising my voice a little and saying how stupid it is to fine people for such a minor offence.

 

The young cop and I go round the exchange a couple more times with me declaring several times that I don’t understand – and to get on with the protocol, but still he shows no inclination to start completing it. Could it be that he knows full well that it would be ‘laughed out of court’?

 

Twenty minutes on and he tires of the game and simply hands my IDP back to me – waving us to go. We get in the van, give a whoop of victory, and get on our way. Next time we will be ready for them and I think of taking photos of the ‘crime scene’ too, to make it clear there will be a follow-up -and good for posting on YouTube.

 

Odessa is jam packed with traffic and there are no signs to the docks where the famed Odessa Steps are located. But guesswork gets us close and Jill’s navigation and my Ukrainian driving skills (barge your way in) find us the best parking spot in the city – on a cliff overlooking the docks. We were worried about being turned away as we overhang the bay but the parking attendant is most helpful.

 

But luck is not wholly on our side and the rain starts to fall just as we arrive at the steps. A few quick photos, a climb up the steps and then we dive for cover into a cellar bar where we have some coffee and wait out the storm. Half an hour later we come out for a quick look at Catherine the Great’s statue – erected recently despite opposition from Ukrainian nationalists. On our way back to the van we pass a wedding palace with neoclassical columns placed for photographs and then cross the betrotheds’ bridge of locks – where newly-weds swear their loyalty by signing locks, attaching them to the steel railings of the bridge and then throwing away the keys.

 

Then we plunge back into the traffic jams and follow the compass north and west without any idea of where we’re going. Eventually the tactic works and we are inching along the route out towards Moldova – though the city names being used for its major towns are not the same as those shown on our maps! We are in the outer one of two solid queues of traffic inching forward while more adventurous souls are overtaking us at speed on the wrong side of the road to get further up in the queue before diving in.

 

About 20km outside Odessa we turn off the main road again and find a field track that looks OK for the night, though not ideal. It turns out to be quite busy as cars, vans and trucks are clearly once again using it to get to places unseen.

 

After dinner, at about 8.30pm, there’s a knock on our door. It’s dark by now and I shine a torch through the window to see who it is. An ID card is shown – militsia – so I open the door and we explain who we are and what we’re doing – passports examined. I say we’re here for one night only ‘adin nocha’, leaving ‘zaftra outram’ – tomorrow morning at 9am, all accompanied with sign language. He eventually says it’s OK and leaves us in peace.

 

Two more RTAs seen today – they are a daily occurrence throughout this part of the continent – and the carnage of cats and especially dogs on the roads continues.