Border Crossing
The Importance of Border Stamps
Still filled with happiness in our hearts from the last ride, we walk up to the Ukrainian border guard. Hmmm, we could have known better. We give him our passports and as he flicks through them he says: "Where is your arrival stamp for the Ukraine?"
"We didn't get one", I answered.
"Impossible", was his simple reply.
A couple of days earlier, while hitching from Moldava into the Ukraine, we ended up in a weird Moldavian transit zone. That's how we didn't get an arrival stamp when we got to the Ukraine, we explain. Apparently this is a big deal in the Ukraine. We got to sit on a wooden bench, while they drank beer, let Moldavians through, and sort of checked out our story.
Border crossing in Transnistria
Today started as early as possible. I had no time to waste. I was heading to Odesa (Ukraina) from Chisinau (Moldava) for the 789 hitchhiking festival, a trip of only 180 kilometers. But I was up for a big challenge: crossing the borders of a country that officially doesn't even exist and that has scary stories attached to it.
I am talking about Transnistria, a region of Moldova located in the east of that country. From one day to another they declared independence and put borders around their self-declared state. I had heard many stories about the border, it would be nearly impossible to cross. As I am always up for a new challenge, this seemed like just the right mission for a hitchhiker like me.
Some journeys (thankfully) just don't end.
Here I stood, at a forgotten truck stop, staring out from Poland on to The Czech Republic wondering why, and how. This morning should have been an omen. But I was too eager to leave, to be back on the road.
It all started when I woke up, opened my eyes and things came into focus. I realized I was still here in this same squat that I have been in for the past ten days. I was still sleeping separated from the this dank and dirty floor only by an even danker and dirtier foam mattress. I looked for the time, shit, eleven in the morning, I was already late. Rushing out of the room on the top floor and down to the kitchen I say my awkward English goodbyes. They say "maybe we will see you again," and I rush out the front door.
Featured Country: Syria
Hitchhiking in Syria, a medium-large country in Western Asia / the Middle East, can be considered “very easy” for foreigners, although drivers might not always understand the concept or reasoning behind hitchhiking.
In urban areas, busses are the most frequented form of transportation, used by everyone, and are considered very inexpensive by Western standards. Locals often don’t understand why foreigners would attempt to traverse distances without busses, and therefore generally assume that a hitchhiker is simply a misplaced tourist in need of assistance. Fortunately, owing to a great culture of common hospitality, these drivers still respond easily, and stop their cars to help hitchhikers. However, in the more rural areas, such as the mountains and desert, hitching a pickup is extremely normal due to the absence of public transport. In most cases, nevertheless, drivers tend to be happy to oblige, and so, hitchhiking is “undifficult” and simultaneously “not simple”.
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