How to Cross the Ukraine /Poland Border in less than an hour

NO PICTURES ALLOWED

OK, the crossing from Romania into the Ukraine was an anomaly. It is as bad as they say, possibly even worse.


Our drive north east from Lviv to the Polish border town of Hrebenne is 73 kms about 50kms of which is new pavement, the remainder the same punishing set of ruts, potholes, return to mother earth, and dodg’em cars, that we had driven previously.


Like Disneyland where you can never figure where the ride actually is from the line-up we approach the border coming over a rise and then are met with 4-5 lanes of vehicles. These vehicles flow down the hill to the first control booth about 250 meters away, a soldiers station, and then to the right to a set of vehicle control booths another 150 meters with now 8 lanes, and then customs control, then passport control, then if you clear this, you have the Polish controls that are quite modern in comparison. First, vehicle entry, then passport entry then passport control at the end.(Basically a review station), like we saw at the Turkey border and was so problematic.


The first line is about 300 cars in volume and instead of stopping as the next vehicle in line I swing right into what would be a truck/lorry lane and slowly drive forward. Now appreciate the fact there is not a vehicle running, most vehicle doors and some trunks are opened, people are standing about or resting in their vehicles, many have been there hours if not overnight ( no kidding) and it is dead silent other than the conversation between people waiting. 


Soldiers in camouflage uniforms and wearing berets carry little white wands which seem kind of effeminate that have either red or green symbols on them, indicating stop or go. 


As I slowly move forward all eyes are on us as we are not following the normal course. I spot a soldier that is closer to the right side of the vehicle line and get his attention and I point to our windshield flag and say “Canada, English”. He points forward to the lower control booths, but stops us momentarily as he prepares the “magic white slip” which ends up being THE MOST IMPORTANT document. It has our licence plate number, and number of pass ported people in/on the vehicle. All stamps of review will end up on this piece of paper which gets collected by passport review at the end.


With everyone seeing that we’ve been waved forward they are cool with it. We weave our way thru the cars (another 200 or so) until we can’t get any further then I get off and with passports in hand walk up to two uniformed officials chatting outside a booth. I get the attention of one and he asks where the moto is, I point ½ way back in the line, and he motions to bring it up to the booth. With that I go back and a bunch of cars move or close their doors so I can move to the booth with the bike. By the way, nobody ever checks the bike.


As I come back they are still chatting and one motions me now to go to the vehicle control booth, which looks the same as theirs but is in a different row. All signage is in Cyrillic so that helps me get special attention. I go over there and meet up with another female skirted officer. She has difficulty accepting the ICBC papers until she sees my Moroccan vehicle import paperwork in the folder. After looking at that, she uses it as a template for filling out their form on the computer. She asks why we were in Ukraine, why were we in Turkey Bulgaria and Romania, and then asks if Sandra is my sister. I say "no wife". She says “no rings“, for which I then say “ too dangerous on moto”  and she nods. 


Actually we’ve never worn our rings except on special occasions. 


I then hear that rhythmic sound that I love to hear, a soft thump followed by a loud thump as the official stamp hits first the ink pad and then the passport or paperwork. I would wait at each step for that set of sounds. Music to my ears. As I walk away people scurry up behind me to talk with her. The sliding window slides shut,  ……. click!


I’m now back to the two guys chatting. Appreciate the fact not a single car has moved or even been approached during my 10 minutes with her. I can now show I have the required stamps to get their attention with and the one says something to the other and I pick out the word ‘problem’ and I say ‘Canadian, no problems’ and they both laugh that I understood what they had said.


He gets into his official booth, the window slides open and he goes through the same questions again, but then when he looks at all the stamps on our passports he says in broken English, “you like Charley Boorman?” referring to Ewan MacGregor and Charley from “Long Way Round’ when they entered the Ukraine. 


I said “Something like that” and he laughs. He now tells me I can go, just go to the left around all the other vehicles. That rhythmic sound is heard and then a bunch of people are lined up behind Sandra and I to talk with him. Still no vehicles have moved.


I start the bike, wind through to the left until a guy is busy cleaning the rear seat of his car out ( something to do while waiting). An old lady on a bicycle who is following me moves in front and swings the door closed on his ass knocking him nearly flat inside the car. Now he can’t react how he normally would to a little old lady, but I need to have her at the next checkstop as well. We work great as a team! I negotiate - she pummels.


Now we cross the time zone into Poland and that means the lunch break that was likely part of the delay in Ukraine has now officially become lunch break in Poland. I find the no items to declare line and drive up it. A single pylon blocks entry for cars, but a bike can drive by it no problem and I do. An official comes out and a muscular soldier comes over. The official leaves with passports in hand, then sits where he thinks I can’t see him and starts having his lunch. I hear no rhythmic sounds so I stick my head in after 45 secs. or so and say “Problem” to which he replies, “no just need to access computer.” A few minutes later I hear the sound I want and he walks out, no passports in hand and says I can go. I say “Passports?” and he points to the soldier who stands with them at the threshold to freedom in the lane that was closed. We collect them and drive out only to meet the last frontier to freedom and the EU.


Here there is the passport control booth and a female officer sits in it.
 It is about 8 feet in the air and you have to walk up to it like you are meeting the “King of England’ and hand the stuff up and respond to any questions from down below.
Definitely a confrontational arrangement meant to intimidate and tell you who is in charge. She looks at the paperwork which is just about worn out by now, and says “Welcome to Poland, enjoy your visit”. I thank her and we are gone. 45-50 mins. For our total arrival to departure.


No other vehicles except the 2 in front of me at the Poland lineup moved in this whole time and of course the little old lady on the bike. Unbelievable. And not a word of exaggeration. 

Us with Sandy's Grandparents

That evening as we visit with Sandie’s grandparents in Poland Sandra leans over and says, “I bet most of the people in that line-up back there are still waiting.” I nod, sad but true.