The Road to the Legion

da teachada teacha Regular
edited July 2010 in Life
sunny+kiev.jpg(Sunny Kiev)

One Sunday afternoon, the desire to do something adventurous and spontaenous overwhelmed all senses. Before I knew it, my bag was being packed, and I was searching for the train times from Kiev to Lviv. I had 2 hours to navigate the city to say some farewells, and pick up the remnants of my possessions scattered around the city: nowhere near enough time for everything. I ended up opting to meet a British guy I met a few weeks back, have a cup of tea; pick up my MP3 player and have a little chat about the decision. Most people disagreed with the idea lingering around my head, but he saw the rationale behind what I wanted to do. With a bit of support, some tunes, and powered by a brew, there I was: rolling along the rails of Ukraine: ever closer to the step which would change my life.

35407_455400485129_506220129_6063694_3913315_n.jpg (Overlooking Lviv at night)

It took a long, cold 10 hours, perched on a narrow top bunk in the platzkart section (3rd class). Sleep was an impossibility; my mind saturated with worry and excitement. All night I turned, but didn't quite have the oppurtunity to toss, until the darkness turned to dawn, and some of my last views of Ukraine phased into view. The original plan was to stop for a night or 2 in Lviv with some of people I stayed with on the way here. Though I couldn't quite find the patience to do so. I downed a McMuffin, changed up some currency and bought 20 packets of cigs to fuel my way into Poland; energy and money running on desperately low levels.

bandersnatch+ultras.jpg (Lviv's hardest hooligans)

If I'd have waited 2 weeks longer, I'd have received my salary from the school: $500 or so. The logical decision would have been of course to stay, but firstly, I decided it's not exactly like I need money in the Legion, and secondly, I only gave my school a days notice by SMS and thought the money would serve as some form of compensation for my cuntishness. Thirdly, and most importantly, I just didn't have the heart to stick around for longer. Life was a grind, it was a month spent without a place to live, and finding one looked difficult. The city was expensive, cold and pretentious, and didn't appeal to me as Krakow and Lviv before so. I also decided that English teaching was a deadend road to nowhere; that the Legion would offer me some direction, skillz and purpose: the sooner I got there to change things, the better.

As it stood, I had around 200UAH ($30) in cash, and still had to collect around $150 from my old school which owed me some salary. It had to get me to Paris, on the other end of Europe. I decided a little of the good ole cigarette smuggling would provide a well needed boost to the personal economy, and with a carton stashed in the already crowded bag, off I went to the border in a bumpy Mashrutka. Unluckily for me though, I happened to be sat next to some 110 year old Catholic guy, who I made the mistake of wanting to practice my Polish with. He proceeded to point out evveerryy single fucking church on the way, as well as try to convert me to Catholicisim. If he wasn't so old and fragile, and if I weren't travelling through rural Ukraine, I might have told him where to shove his fucking cross, but I decided pretending to be asleep was the optimal option. Well, I didn't really need to pretend, as I was fucking knackered, but I didn't trust any of the fuckers in the bus one bit.

DSC00087.JPG

An hour later I was free from the clutches of his brainwashed idiocy, and off I powerwalked to the border, grinning my way past the smugglers from Ukraine who had to wait in a long line. My EU passport shone in my pocket; guiding me through like Abraham through the Red Sea. My voyage to the holy land was nearing completion, until the tides crashed down all around me and the fuckers at the border searched my bag. The limit was 2 packs, I had 20. I thought they'd just confiscate them and let me be on my way, but no, off I went into a side door, and they ushered me back into Ukraine. I was kicked out of my home territory; refused entry into the EU.

I then had to explain the situation to the guy at the Ukrainian side. Through another side door I went, and the guys seemed happy to relieve me of my cigarettes as a "fine". They didn't notice the 2 packets I had in the back pockets however. I should've just said nothing then tried to sell them to smugglers for cheap on the other side, but it wasn't to be, and again I tried to pass through. It turned out that I had 4 extra packets the Ukrainians didn't find, and as my bag was searched for the 2nd time and they were uncovered, I thought I'd be in a world of shit. With 6 packets obviously in view, he asked me how many packs I had, and I was kind of stuck for words. He asked me if I had only 2 packs, and again I didn't really know what to say. I muttered out a few things, and eventually he said 'Welcome to Poland'; closing up my bag with the extra packs and letting me on my way. I know it's not exactly the crime of the century, but I'm pretty sure a Ukrainian would've never received such behaviour.

kazimerz.jpg (Kazimerz district of Krakow)

Borders are always weird places from my experience; no man's lands devoid of culture and tradition, teeming with chancers and traders eager to exploit the differences between the respective nations. As I made my way into Poland I was harrassed by hordes of Ukrainians, looking to sell me cigarettes and alcohol: the livelihood of many many Ukrainians who live close to the border. They pick up their 2 packs on home soil, queue up for maybe 30 minutes, then rush to sell them on the other side. Repeat. Repeat. ??? Profit. I made a few calculations, to see whether picking up some merchandise here could in any way be profitable, but it wouldn't really have been worth it. Another woman thought differently however: a Pole soon departing for the UK, who lapped up any packet in sight, and as we waited for the bus to Przemysl to get moving, went about hiding maybe 3000 or so cigarettes in various compartments and pieces of clothing in the suitcase. She also sorted me out a few shots of an unknown substance and a sammich which kept me going for the 4 hours of travelling back to Krakow: a full circle back to where I lived, worked, and loved for 7 months.

DSC00053.JPG(Krakowian sunset)

(Cross posted from my blog)

Comments

  • Vox DucisVox Ducis Semo-Regulars
    edited July 2010
    Have you ever been based in Aubagne ? Do you intend to make your whole career in the FFL ?

    If you have the opportunity, join the 13° DBLE in Djibouti (higher salary).
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