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The night of March 12th, around 11pm to midnight, one of the released guided aerial bombs struck a street in a district with private homes. To go there to help with clean up, our organization issued us body armor. It was a light body armor, suited for heavy physical work but maybe less so for protection from danger. The drone detection and liquidation personnel were there, though.

Walking down the street was a scene of apocalypse. Rumbles of collapsed walls, roofs, and broken glass everywhere. While it was easy to tell which house the bomb hit directly (the damage was insurmountable and the debris there were being cleaned up by a literal excavator), the other homes were damaged by the blast wave. The wave not only collapsed some roofs and blasted windows and walls, it also had blown parts of peoples fences across the street to other people’s yards. The insides of some buildings didn’t look much better due to collapsed ceilings and damage from exploding glass.

While there were no human victims, a German shepherd dog died from heart attack during the first of the three bombs. Watching his owner bury him in the yard was the saddest thing of that day for me. The owner also shared that the day before the buried his father (died of cancer) and his mom had to be hospitalized.This man was close to losing both parents in one day, bomb-related or not. Other than the home that received a direct hit, this man’s home, garage, garden, and vehicle received the most damage, being almost directly across from the bomb impact.

This was my first time being present not only as a clean up crew member, but also at a location of such recent and such significant damage. The community response appeared exemplary. At the time of our arrival, all medical needs were already addressed, so it was mostly clean up and humanitarian aid agencies.The city park services, electricians, construction crews for roofs and windows, as well as less professionally skilled but equally effective volunteers for the physical labor, such as my crew. While I was mostly there for filming, I and anyone else could sweep up glass and shovel shingle and rocks.

While even the damaged houses still had at the very least the walls and the roof trusses left (not the one, whose debris were being removed literally by an excavator), the blast stripped bare the non-wooden roofing material, collapsed ceilings, blasted windows, and bent metal fences. Inside the homes we shook off bedding and carpets to sweep up glass. So. Much. Glass.

The curtains were shredded to pieces. Anything that stood on tables (plants, personal items, dishes) was in broken pieces on the floor. The ceiling was covering everything in pieces and dust. I’ve entered only two of the houses, and I was shocked at the damage caused by the blast wave. We were sweeping up and shoveling pieces of someone’s family homes: walls, windows, and roofs that kept them safe before; personal items that kept their memories; clothes, curtains and blankets that were shredded and could never be trusted to be fully clear of glass dust.

And the dog burial… It also easy could have been any of the local elderly and for the same reason – a heart attack from the sound of the explosion and the blast wave, or the shock of having seen the destruction of their homes. And that’s not including possible death from flying debris or pieces of blasted windows and the risk from fallen roofs.

The second day at this site had us spend much more time hiding from drones. While there was a drone detection mechanism, there did not see to be a drone deflector. The first few times I was quite confused. The idea was to be out of sight of drones, understood. But couldn’t hiding in homes that were falling apart be more dangerous than to be outside, if there was another blast wave? Later on hearing the artillery whistling, there was less time to think, and we just sheltered in place (lowered down where we stood).

Long story short, having spent 2 days at this location, another major guided bomb explosion occurred at the city center around 2pm on the second day.

We then switched over to that area to help with clean up. Since we used to live in the center, this was the area we passed and did our shopping daily. This was one of our favorite stores, next to a small kiosk where we got cigarettes and energy drinks. Next to the bus station we used daily after moving out of the center district but still working here.

Another sad point was the presence of Parks of Kherson at both locations we have been at. They should be planting flowers and cutting stray tree branches. But there is little outdoors recreation in Kherson, even in such great weather. Only destruction.

It is Sunday now, and Max was called to go to a new site after last night’s guided aerial bomb assault. Three days, three major attacks on different districts. This time there was at least one death. Where is that goddamn ceasefire?

A little while back I have met a very upbeat and funny local volunteer named Iryna. She shared that she sponsors about 20-30 families a month by purchasing them baby items, diapers, medications, hygiene, and snacks. The families she sponsors are either large families with children, individuals with disabilities (cerebral palsy or seizures) or families with children with disabilities. 

The experience was different from standing at the pantry and handing out items to those, who can come get them themselves. We visited 10 homes in different parts of the city, some of the areas where it’s not safe to drive around to begin with. There were 3 of us – myself, Max, and Iryna who was the driver. While we stopped to briefly meet with some of the families and deliver items to their door, one or two of us was on the lookout for drones. I can’t imagine these people having to go shopping or go outside in general in districts like that. I was glad that a little bit of money and bravery was enough to lessen the burden on some of them.

One of the families shared that its able-bodied women help the military by knitting wonderfully comfortable socks as well as doing art to donate or sell to raise funds.

Another mother shared that they cannot afford epilepsy medicine for her son except for the times, when Irina helps with it. One bottle lasts them just a month, and there’s no income or ability to work to cover it.

Visiting homes of those people added a whole new layer of experience for me. It was much more personal to see the areas where they live, what their homes and families look like, to meet their children. Families that cannot go somewhere to pick up humanitarian aid get much less of it, while they need it much more than some other locals. I wish that everyone could get the help they deserve and desperately need.

The eighth of March is a famously celebrated women’s holiday in eastern Europe and beyond. It’s a celebration for all women and girls. It’s a day of flowers, candy, greeting cards with poems, among other things.

It is also one of the first spring holidays and, given good weather, can begin the season of cooking out. That was exactly the plan of myself, my partner, and our closest friends. We gathered at the backyard of our friend’s home and began grilling out and having fun. His mom, and probably many other locals, was working in the garden. The sunny weather was darn near close to swimsuit dress code (I changed to bra and shorts after this photo).

We heard a couple rounds of artillery, closer than I am used to, due to the location of our friend’s home. One of the explosions was loud enough to cause some ringing in the ears. Soon enough, around 4pm, we began seeing a tall column of smoke. Then it spread to multiple columns of smoke. Even later on, it wasn’t clear if the fire was caused by shelling or a drone strike. The shelling/drone strike and the resulting fire were within our district, less than a mile away and seemed to be spreading steadily along the line at the horizon, not yet towards us.

I assumed that the firefighters wouldn’t approach right away because the Russians are known for striking the same area twice, to injure the first responders. But it was explained to me that the area was mostly fields of reeds that easily catch fire and do not respond well to fire extinguishing efforts. We attempted to continue celebrating, keeping an eye on the line of fire and it’s distance from us.

The path home in the dark along the burning fields (now within half a mile and close enough to smell the smoke and feel the heat) looked like inferno.

The sky was covered in smoke, lit up by the fire, and full of fleeing and confused birds. While unclear if there were any houses on fire at that time, most animals may not have had enough time to flee from inflammable grass.

Leaving the area of private homes and getting closer to high-rise buildings, the sky was lit up with fire visible even behind 9-story buildings.

People stood outside watching the fire, worried about where it might spread, discussing the wind and proximity of private houses and businesses. They called to check on the same family and friends they spoke to just hours earlier, when they were congratulating them with this wonderful holiday. Talking about the Los Angeles fires from not too long ago and how easily even a non-targeted strike can possibly destroy miles of land. The fires raged through the night. Happy Women’s day to us from the goddamn Russians.

On my return trip from Lviv I was sharing the train cabin with a Ukrainian soldier and we spent close to 5 hours talking nonstop.

He shared with me that he enlisted as a volunteer a few days after the beginning of the full-scale invasion and has been following the service-hospital-service route ever since. He had no prior military experience, in fact, he was a successful chef traveling around some countries in Europe and also around Russia’s Asian neighbors. After enlisting, he first served in the infantry and then, after numerous injuries and becoming partially unfit for service, switched to the air force, and became a sergeant, responsible for a team of about 10 soldiers. He shared that as a sergeant, he hardly sleeps because there is so much work to be done behind the scenes to gather intel and take care of his team. He had a really positive attitude about it, sharing that he’s used to it by now and that he will take care of his health when the war is over, because now every day can be his last. In his opinion, nothing but injuries or deaths of his team would bother him.

He shared that the war has made him a softer man, according to his wife, and he notices it too. If before, during an argument or someone’s outburst, there might have been an aggressive response from him, right now he is more likely to tightly hug a complaining person and say “my brother… it doesn’t matter… you’re alive, look around you, you’re alive, safe, what’s there to complain about.” Of course, conversations like this more often happen with civilians, who are more likely to get upset over small non-life-threatening things, like a 15 people line in a grocery store. For someone, whose life has been in danger so many times he’s surprised to be alive, there aren’t many civilian life problems he would consider worthwhile stressing over. But I love that he was being kind about it. “My brother… it doesn’t matter…” is different from “if you want something to cry about go enlist and we’ll show you real life and death situations.”

The conversation with him was very helpful for me personally as well. Along the same lines of stressing over minute issues, his attitude of “if you wake up… if you still have your arms and legs… everything is well” was quite contagious and inspiring. I tend to stress over… everything. This is the everyday life of an anxious and depressed person. But this conversation was more helpful than therapy and seemed to have helped put my head on straight. My family is safe, my loved person is with me, I am able to fund myself and even make some donations. I am healthy and young. There isn’t anything I set my mind to that I can’t achieve. And I want to do more with my body and mind to become a stronger person. Never as strong as a soldier, but at least not a whimp that I have been.

When I expressed thanks for his service, his response was that no thanks were needed, he couldn’t have imagined himself anywhere else since the war started. Even his wife eventually said that she understands his decision and would’ve gone if she were male. He fights for his family, a child born after the beginning of the full-scale invasion. He fights for other children, for the elderly, and for the young people to have a life. His faith is strong in continuing the fight, for as long as necessary – he believes the war is barely half over timewise. He wants his son to be proud of him down the road, when he asks dad what he did during the first years of the war.

The military man expressed that “we’ll figure it out” even without the additional supplies of weapons and without forcefully mobilized soldiers – “we can’t fully trust or depend on someone who didn’t want to be here.” He shared stories about some of the military men he knew, who have been injured and considered partially or fully unfit for service because of injuries, but paid bribes to be allowed back on the battlefield with old buddies. Another story was of a soldier who got injured and was sent to the hospital. A little while later the hospital called to say that the soldier ran and is now considered to be a fugitive – and his comrades informed the hospital that actually the soldier is already back in the trenches with them. These are the soldiers who are committed to victory and will not give up, even when they do deserve the time to rest and recover.

This conversation was truly uplifting for me in these times of uncertainty, caused by current diplomacy issues between Ukraine and the U.S. The Ukrainian spirit is strong and unyielding.

I also spent some time at the Lviv cemetery with daily burials and I am scared for the soldiers. They aren’t robots. They have fought for a long time, and some even longer – since the initial occupation of Ukrainian territories in 2014. Death, injury, and destruction are ongoing factors of the war. Ukrainians are tired, but are willing to fight with shovels and rocks if needed, willing to fight despite waning American support. But they shouldn’t have to be alone in this. This isn’t technically WW3, because the soldiers are mostly of the 2 nations. But the war and issues of democracy and diplomatic failures impact the whole world and Ukrainians deserve international financial, military, humanitarian, and moral support on the ongoing basis, just as the war is ongoing.

Not just any apartment complex, but the 9-story apartment complex with multiple entrances and many dozens of apartments, where I lived for close to 2 months between September and December of 2024.

19th of February has seen 3 sites of destruction by guided aerial bombs. While this is a frequent experience in Kherson, it hit way too close to home (literally), albeit not the one where I live any longer. The area I still visit for a health clinic nearby and some of my favorite Kherson sites.

My apartment was not in this specific part of the complex, but this reminds me that it’s not safe anywhere near the frontline. It is known about five injured, of them two are 13-year-old twins, whose mother’ is still’s body was found under the rubble 16+ hours after the airstrike. The attempts of emergency services to get to the survivors have been interrupted by additional Russian attacks

Russia has started this war against Ukrainian civilians, and the only peace is through full Russian withdrawal of its troops from Ukrainian territory. There’s been too much pain and destruction already.

This week has been a rollercoaster to say the least. As Max and I ended our service with the World Aid Runners on the agreed upon date of January 31st, a lot of factors have come to light about how the organization truly feels about its volunteers and donors.

The old question of where the donor money goes to ended up being under the investigation by Ukrainian services, which seems to have rattled the organization to the point of middle-school style offensive rant. 

My fellow volunteer Kristina has sent this message about me to a fellow volunteer (edited to shorten this 10page term paper of hatred, as her message concerned myself, Jeff, Max, and another volunteer, Darrell). These attacks range from unnecessarily personal and unfair statements to calling us a danger to the community of Kherson.

Click here for the offensive rant about myself and other volunteers of the organization

“Inna is a “Ukrainian patriot”. It is convenient to be a patriot and live in another country. If she wanted to help Ukrainians so much, where was she during two years of war? In the USA. It is convenient and safe to shout “Glory to Ukraine!” from across the ocean. If she loves Ukraine so much, “her” country, why didn’t she immediately return “home” at a conscious age? She couldn’t find, despite everything, a way to come to her dying grandfather??? SHE DIDN’T WANT TO. LAZINESS. IT DOESN’T MATTER. None of you know how to appreciate loved ones. Shame! If Inna knew the grief of occupation and war, she would appreciate it better. She would turn the world upside down to come to her grandparents.

You and she are in Ukraine because BEN. Thanks to BEN, you both had the opportunity to volunteer. You arrived to everything that was ready. EVERYTHING WAS READY BY BEN. BEN AND NO ONE ELSE WORKED HARD ON IT. THERE IS ORGANIZATION BECAUSE OF BEN. PEOPLE HAVE PRODUCTS BECAUSE OF BEN. Ready infrastructure. Office, cars, shelter, apartment. she is Irresponsible, tactless, frivolous, ill-mannered, naive, stupid, infantile. If Inna was in Kherson for two months, this does not mean that she can write articles and pretend that she is an expert. She, like you, knows NOTHING. Both of you cannot even imagine that next to you and in what a dangerous place you both are. I know, this is my city. Ben knows, he has lived here for TWO YEARS. And not just like at a resort. Like Inna, she only knows alcohol, and she came to the office in a terrible physical condition and appearance. We work with people! Horror! Adult, conscious girls do not behave like that. She is stupid and ill-mannered, to understand where she is and with whom. Ben has studied and continues to study everything about Kherson and the situation there. He WORKS A LOT TO KNOW THIS INFORMATION. It takes time, it takes relationships, it takes being a GOOD PERSON FROM THE HEART like Ben (and not just seeming to be, like you and Inna) so that people can trust their stories from the occupation, their life story, open their souls, have a desire to help and more. one needs to speak Russian or Ukrainian. one needs to know the geography of the city. one needs to talk to a lot of people to understand the main need, to be as useful as possible, to provide truly real help. And Ben does it. He goes out of his way so that the world knows about Kherson. So that it is not forgotten. To help people.

Shame! Shame! She’s Ukrainian! She writes articles for the public about a city she knows nothing about. She declares herself a “humanitarian” and then publishes disgusting photos of her drunk and in terrible shape. I’m ashamed that I know her! I’m ashamed that we stood next to each other! She should be ashamed to call herself Ukrainian! Because of such ardent “patriots” and “Ukrainians” my country has no help from outside. People like Inna are a disgrace to the nation. Let her live anywhere, but not in Ukraine. Shame! […]

Know. If I see any of you in my city, I will find you all disgusting. You are all vile people. My city is beautiful, even if it is bleeding now. But it is disgusting to me to know that people like you all walk its streets. You, Inna, Maxim and Daryl. My people were killed during the occupation, my soldiers died liberating my city from occupation. My people paid the price not so that an asshole, a criminal, an unfinished “Ukrainian patriot” and a liar could walk on my land. You are nobody here. My father is at the front looking death in the eye, not so that you could all live and be in my city and in my country. You are not worth his little finger. You are all a huge minus for the residents of Kherson, rather than a plus.”

Maybe Kristina, who loves their city so much should not be harassing the volunteers and donors who come to help Ukraine just because these volunteers are asking questions about how the funds are spent. Maybe how people act on camera needs to more closely coincide with how they feel about you behind your back.

This has been a very unpleasant ordeal for all of the mentioned by Kristina volunteers, who have all been severely disappointed with and angered by their time with this organization, and truly hoped that at least the funds were helping the local residents. The question remains. And the harassment of the volunteers continues as the investigation proceeds.

The most recent walk around Kherson has shown me new areas I haven’t been to before. This is the closest I have been to the disputed riverbank, where neither the locals not the foreigners dare to venture without a good reason. Our reason for the long adventure was the Civil Registry Office – submitting paperwork for a marriage license.

Let me tell you that as an individual with dual citizenship and different names for each citizenship, it continues to be a complicated process.

Some perfonal info, feel free to skip

I changed my middle name in America upon taking citizenship, which is normal and legal. Ukraine, on the other hand, doesn’t accept dual citizenship (interestingly, someone can be a foreigner and take Ukrainian citizenship. But a Ukrainian-born cannot have dual citizenship). The Ukrainian government also does not accept my name change, because in Eastern Europe an individual’s middle name is supposed to be their father’s name. As my father’s name is Oleksandr, my middle name is Oleksandr’s daughter – Oleksandrivna. Therefore, by one passport I am Inna Oksana, and by the other I am Inna Oleksandrivna. And here I am daring to also change my last name! Since for the marriage here I can only use one passport and it has to be the Ukrainian one, the result would be a citizen of two countries, with different middle names and last names in each. And, of course, one of these identities will be married, while the American will have a hard time proving than her married Ukrainian identity is the same one standing in front of American government agencies.

But enough about this complicated legal turmoil we are still working through.

From my previous post you know that public transportation is not a safe method of movement, and simple walking around the city puts you at risk of shelling and document checks. The city-wide curfew here is 8pm (midnight in Kyiv), while most stores close by 5pm (alcohol is not sold after 3pm). Some locations are safer than others to walk. And the street view, to be honest, is also quite depressing. You can imagine people go outside only at absolute necessity. 

These factors about limited city travel can be quite disappointing for a tourist and quite annoying, if you live with them for months at a time. What is harder to imagine, and heartbreaking if you truly think deep about it, is that this is a fact of life for everyone on the front line and occupied territories (it’s indescribably worse there, of course) for 3 years now.

Night life may not be something busy people of 30+ participate in as much in America and other countries, but imagine not being able to go outside at all after 8 or 9pm. Watching a movie or a late sports game, walking along the riverbank or a park trail, going to a bar, karaoke, or to a concert, visiting a friend after a long day, or venturing outside to clear your head and look at the stars is not an option. You cannot stay the night camping, cannot get home late or leave home early. Why would you need to, men can’t leave the city anyway – not only unable to cross the country borders, but also the city boundaries. The reason for it is the ICE-like behavior of military administration checking every young and middle-aged man’s identification and, as frequently reported, kidnapping them off the street and sending to the front after a 3-minute-long health check. There are also reports of injuries sustained by individuals attempting to assert their rights when being detained for being a male of mobilization age. The name of this military administration body is Territorial Center of Recruitment and Social Support (TCC, or TЦК in Ukrainian).

Even before curfew, the ability to “have fun” is limited by scarcity of open locations for recreation or entertainment – even restaurants are limited, let alone any movie theaters, clubs, swimming pools, bars, or bowling centers (some parks and a couple billiard rooms, at most). I mean, even grocery stores have limited choices compared to areas farther away from the frontline. Another limitation (both for any operating places as well as for any locals) is the finances. Opportunities for work are limited and the pay is low compared to prices, that are growing monthly due to inflation and war. And even those opportunities for work are mostly limited to women, because even employed men of mobilization age are drafted. In my personal experience, the bus driver for my trip from Kyiv to Krakow was drafted days before my departure and I barely managed to book another ticket on time. 

There is a beach nearby, yet it is off limits to anyone who values their life, as it is directly within Russian eyesight and artillery. There are parks and nature spots, yet they may be covered in anti-personnel landmines called “lepestok,” like the word for flower petal. There is a picture of such mine in my previous post, and these are banned by international conventions, but are frequently scattered by Russians in prefrontal cities to be used on civilians and can lead to death or loss of limbs. The requirement to always carry a tourniquet is exactly because of the risk these hard to notice mines.

Constant shelling of the city does not leave its citizens bored, and their dreams are simple. Most dream about going for a ride to a nearby city, visiting families, walking a dog at a park for hours, seeing a peaceful sky, and even just walking their child to school (now there are no open schools or kindergartens) or letting children spend time at a playground.

Since September of 2024, I have spent 3 months in Ukraine, returned to the U.S. for a little over a month, and am now back in Ukraine until the summer.

I was often asked questions about adjusting in between my travels. Interestingly enough, the hardest part of the past few months was this brief return to the U.S. I may have spent the second half of my life there, but my time in Ukraine has touched my soul in ways that the U.S. has not, at least since the war started and I felt needed by my homeland. I know that Ukraine needs military and resources, not another foreign casualty – yet I have not found my peace until I made it here in person. I have found my purpose, community, sense of home, and love – and these have helped my 20 years of depression more than any medication.

Returning to the U.S. was necessary to tie up some loose ends, hug my loved ones, and spread the word about Ukraine and about Kherson. My departure from Ukraine during a particularly unstable time in late December (the holidays are an especially dangerous time, and the security intelligence have been issuing warnings about the Russian forces planning to retake Kherson) has kept me safe but in mental turmoil.

My return to Ukraine a week ago has not led to similar issues readjusting from one country to the next. A long and annoying period of travel was made worse not by thousands of miles by plane but by just 1,000 miles from Krakow to Kherson – through borders and checkpoints see my previous post). Yet, seeing my loved ones and returning to volunteering the next day felt… it felt like I never left. Similar to the now famous TV series “Severance,” where a worker has no memories about their own private lives while at work and no memories of work while they are not on the clock, my brain fully jumped into the present tense and everything that felt familiar and comforting. As if my trip to America was just a dream. One of the very few things that remind me of my short-lived absence is running into Ukrainian acquaintances and friends, who are surprised to see me back so soon and ask about life in America.

There are some minor and some major changes – no leaves or buckeyes on the ground, I am now dressing up warmer, and, as of January 18^th, I am engaged to the Ukrainian volunteer I have met during my last term in Kherson. Another major change from my last stay here is that my fiancé Max and I have now relocated to a different part of the city – a supposedly safer location to live. Yet, unexpectedly, this move has not turned out to be much safer.

One of the reasons for this is that the Russians have spread their terror of “civilian hunting” towards this area as well. Not just the riverbank, the center (where we volunteer), but now this neighborhood especially. While nowhere is considered safe, this expansion of artillery targeting has been an unpleasant development for us and others, who try to move farther away from the front.

Another reason this move didn’t turn out as safe as expected is that we now travel to our workplace by city buses. Civilian targeting by Russians tends to include public transportation, because it is a slow-moving target with 20-30 people at a time. The bus stop where we go in the mornings is the same bus stop that a couple of weeks ago has witnessed two back-to-back drone attacks, damaging the vehicle and injuring and killing trapped civilians on the bus.

This is now a daily risk in our lives. Walking is not at option because of the distance, risk of mines (picture below), and also because of frequent stops by cruising police officers, who check documents of young men to decide if they might be a good candidate for drafting.

The move to this new region of Kherson has expanded my experience of the city. From my window I can see new to me areas of damages – a school, a church, and dozens of high-rise buildings with busted out windows and burn markings. I also have the front window view of an underground school that is being built nearby. As I explore the new area to discover new to me post offices, grocery stores, coffee shops, markets, and restaurants, I notice that the atmosphere is now similar to that of the frequently shelled central region. Very few people are outside at this time, some people are packing up to move once again to yet another area considered marginally safer.

The sounds in the city have also changed. While it didn’t take me long to once again start considering faraway explosions and artillery sounds as the background noise, some of these sounds are unfamiliar, for example, multiple back-to-back artillery rounds, multiple per second. I still cannot successfully tell the apart artillery sounds from the Ukrainian side or the Russian side, but the locals have a reasonable understanding that a lot of artillery released by the Ukrainians then leads to the revenge shelling from the Russian side. As I am unable to take and post my own pictures and videos because of safety and security guidelines for the foreigners, I will, nevertheless, share the publically available media.

After the nerve-wracking experience of hastily packing up and moving all of my belongings, as well as tying up loose ends in my Lexington, KY apartment, traveling to Ukraine from the United States (and especially from Poland onward) has been an even more insane roller-coaster. 

Surprisingly, the parts people are usually anxious about – TSA, luggage drop off, layovers, and seating went without a hitch.

I started getting really anxious during my transatlantic flight from Chicago to Germany, because my layover before the flight to Poland was going to be dangerously short, at a time when I would be passing European passport control. Yet again, even this process took only minutes (at least for now, soon Europe will require visas from American citizens). 

I made it to Krakow, Poland about 15 hours after flying out of Cincinnati. My luggage made it with me, regardless of a few questionable items (whiskey, military grade helmet, and a couple hundred caffeine stickers). 

It was the busses that proved to be the hardest part of the journey. I would have easily taken on TSA in Ukraine, but air travel in and out of Ukraine has been impossible for almost 3 years. The 4-hour bus ride from Krakow to Lviv, across 2 border crossings, could easily turn into 12 hours. The chance that I was going to make it to my next bus from Lviv to Kherson on time was almost 0.

In that case, not only was I going to have to sleep at the bus station overnight waiting for the next bus, but a different bus route would take another 24+ hours to take me to my destination. I swore up and down that I will not find myself in these damn busses again.

Getting angry at everything that brought me to this point in life (lack of air travel because of the Russian invasion, the fact that I, for some reason, went to America in December and have to deal with this again, and even the fact that I am traveling to a South Eastern town so far from the Polish border), I, nevertheless, made it to the bus station with half an hour to spare. At this point I was only another 15 hours away from Kherson.

This border crossing experience differed from the one I had when leaving Ukraine last time. The Polish side didn’t even make us get out of the bus – they just collected our passports, took them, and ran them through their system for about half an hour (every time the passport leaves my hands, my americanized brain panics with thoughts of human trafficking). This time Ukrainians also simply had us get out of the bus, show our passports one by one and get back in. No baggage check.

Let me tell you about the last time! When leaving Ukraine by bus, we spent 2 hours on the Ukrainian side waiting, getting out, and getting our belongings scanned. Then 5 hours on the Polish side, where the vehicles were not moving for hours at a time, getting luggage scanned, and a short interview in Polish about the purpose of travel. In total, 7 hours on the border, with long periods of complete lack of moving of ANY vehicles, and long periods of standing outside, while our luggage and passports were checked by the border workers.

I can honestly say that I enjoyed this experience much more. While I put myself through an unnecessary amounts of stress about the possibilities of running out of time and the consequences of it, everything turned out fine. I will be much more careful in scheduling my layovers between airplanes and between busses next time. I feel like I aged during these hours at the border, although it was a comparatively easy one, with unrealistic amounts of luck. 

My luck became a little less obvious once we made it to the city of Mykolaiv, the final point of travel for our large double-decker bus. Because Kherson is at the frontline within the artillery range, large busses can attract too much attention and become a target for the civilian-hunting Russians. Also, only 5 people from the original bus were going forward to Kherson. So we stopped at the bus station within one-hour drive from Kherson and switched to a small bus for within-city travel. As I was letting my friends and loved ones know that I was almost home, we stood at a stop for a whole hour.

Then, within few kilometers of my destination, we were stopped at the military checkpoint at the entrance to Kherson. These military checkpoints serve two goals – weed out any undesirable travelers and catch any military-age men who should be drafted. Undesirable travelers include not only any Russian citizens, military, or suspected collaborators, but also lost foreign volunteers or visitors. Kherson’s authorities have been limiting foreign travel for the past year, to avoid taking on responsibility for any foreign casualties. At this point you must provide or fill out documentation, explaining why you are entering, where you are going, who you will be working with, and for how long. It is also sort of like a waiver, where you are signing your understanding that your presence in the city can lead to an injury or death. You must be prepared to fill out this information and speak to the military police in Ukrainian or Russian, which, luckily, was not an issue for me.

I finally arrived at my destination after 15 hours of flying and 26 hours on the bus. I hugged my friends and loved one, still a little shaky from the understandable unfriendliness at the checkpoint.

You gotta really want to be in Ukraine to make it through these trials. If I didn’t have to renew my passport soon and if I wasn’t afraid of an AC-less summer, I would’ve stayed in Ukraine until air travel renews!!

Also, for anyone interested in repeating my adventure but with less stress, please go through Moldova! It’s closer to Kherson (or odessa, if you want a relatively safer experience in the country) and I think it might be less busy than the Polish airport and border. Plus since it’s not in EU, it won’t require a visa in the future. Make sure to make contact with local authorities and/or volunteers, to be able to prove that you are allowed to be there, and that you fully understand the risk you put yourself under.