Fleeing

The war in Ukraine has been going on for more than four weeks.

These past four weeks have been some of the longest in recent memory. Having been in Moscow at the time and having a command of the language, everything indicated that this very well may be a short war. Waking up and finding out Vladimir V. Putin had decided to invade came as an absolute shock to nearly everyone. On top of that, every Telegram channel I followed posted about damaging or destroying Ukrainian military infrastructure. At the same time, the Russian Ruble was in free fall with the uncertainty of how the West would react to the news. Meanwhile, I was continuing as normally as possible. I taught my lessons and went home.

After a week of war, I ultimately decided to leave Russia. The war was not limited, and it was not short. In addition, the civil liberties that we cherish and champion in the West were being further and further rolled back on the other side of the world in Russia. State-controlled media outlets constantly churned out information and news that painted Russia positively and Ukraine negatively. It was made very clear that the Russian government would call this anything but a war in front of the Russian people. As the days passed, security forces were arresting more and more people, and the independent media outlets began questioning their futures in Russia. However, what ultimately led to my decision to leave Russia, was that Russia was planning to make it illegal to call the war, a war. There were also fears that Russia may institute martial law throughout the country or regions bordering Ukraine. I did not want to stick around to find out what consequences I may find myself in out of happenstance.

So, on March 4th, I left. My journey began in Moscow with a 9:40 AM high-speed train to Saint Petersburg. After 4 hours on the train, I met up with my friend, Artyom, who hung out with me until I had to catch the bus. Barely making it onto the bus, I made my way to Tallinn. The journey typically takes eight hours; three hours to the border, one to two hours at the border, and another 3 hours to Tallinn. An eight-hour ride was not in the cards, instead taking about 14 hours, with most of it spent at the border.

Tensions at the border were evident, with the Russians taking their sweet time clearing each bus crossing. I, along with every Ukrainian citizen, was pulled aside for questioning. I was not concerned as the officer had already stamped my passport before they stopped me. In my opinion, questioning me had more to do with producing paperwork to show superior officers than with my being American. Nevertheless, it was nerve-wracking. At first, this officer wanted to detail my travel history, to which I laughed. Unbeknownst to him, stamps and visas fill more than half of my passport. Quickly realizing that there was nothing to find, he breezed through the paperwork, and I was back with the other passengers.

While the Russians were dilly-dallying, the Estonians, on the other hand, made them look fast. Busses clearing the Estonian border were taking over an hour to be processed. We finally made our way inside the Estonian border control after nearly three hours. Oddly, our bus cleared the border with haste in about 30 or 40 minutes. I was, again, stopped. After quickly looking through my bags, the customs officer let me through.

The whole situation, at the time, could best be summed up by the conversation I had with the customs officer. As expected, she asked me where I was going and how long I was planning to stay there. I explained that I was leaving Russia and my first stop was to be in Helsinki and that I would travel onward to Oslo, staying with friends each time. She then asked when I was planning to leave Oslo, to which I replied, teary-eyed, “I have no idea. I just ran away from the place I called home.” She understood me, said, “I’m sorry,” and told me that I was all set.

I had hoped that I would be able to stay in a hostel and get some decent sleep before catching the ferry to Helsinki, my destination. The drawn-out border crossing dashed those hopes. At the very least, I would make it on time for the ferry. After catching two hours of sleep, I arrived in Tallinn. I ordered a taxi and made my way onto the ferry. The sunrise was incredible, the air fresh. Standing there with a backpack, carry-on, and mini bag, I could only cry in the comfort that took me in.

Arriving in Helsinki was bittersweet. I consider myself lucky to have such wonderful friends scattered around the globe. Seeing Maria and Ville waiting for me sealed the deal for me. I had made it out. I had made it to Helsinki.