Day trip to Uzhhorod, Ukraine

From our base in Snina, we are so close to the Ukrainian border that the Dynamic Duo couldn’t resist the temptation to a slip over on a day trip.

Crossing the border turned out to be quite an experience in itself. It took a solid hour. The Ukrainian officials were friendly enough though. One spoke good English and was all smiles when she saw Her Ladyship’s Irish passport. ‘Ah, you’ve got that funny language with loads of letters in every word’, she said. Another seemed to be a bit of a tyrant initially. But he mellowed when he saw the Oldies’ passports, giving His Lordship a big thumbs up for having bagged himself an Irish wife.

The first thing that hit us on the other side was the shocking state of the roads. It was like trying to negotiate moguls on a ski slope. Black ones. His Lordship soon followed the example of the locals, weaving all over the road to dodge at least the worst bumps and potholes. At one point, the Oldies spotted a huge Orthodox monastery with golden domes high on a hill not too far off the main road. ‘Let’s take a look,’ said His Lordship, ‘it’s not far away’. We bumped along for about two kilometres, but, although the monastery was clearly signposted, the appalling potholed road simply stopped, giving way to an impassable track. That’s one monastery that is not overrun by tourists. These three, at least, left it alone in its splendid isolation.

Although Uzhhorod is less than 40km from where we crossed the border, by the time we finally arrived the Oldies looked completely shattered from the trip. I wasn’t any the better for it either. My beak was still rattling for a good while afterwards, I can tell you!

It was nice and relaxing to walk around the city. It certainly beats driving, in spite of the fact that there seem to be very few traffic restrictions. In the old town centre I saw hardly any traffic lights, road markings or parking restrictions. Quite surprising in a city with a population of 120,000. I also found it surprising that the roads were partly in an appalling condition even in the city centre. When the Oldies later attempted to drive to the castle for example, they yet again abandoned the trip, fearing for the car’s suspension. And that was when they were at the city’s main bus station. If any of the local bus drivers ever wanted to change job, I am sure that with their experience they’d have no problem making it as off-road driving instructors.

The atmosphere around the pedestrian areas is relaxed and the promenade along the River Uzh, lined with 2.2 km of linden trees – the longest of its kind in Europe – certainly gives a cool, leafy feel to the city.

The town is a strange mix of old and new, dilapidated and restored buildings. A lot of work is still in progress, which is good to see, and there is an air of new prosperity about the place. I was puzzled though to see this monument to the Holocaust victims looking neglected and overgrown. It was inaugurated in 2016.

The ‘I love Uzhhorod’ sign has been attacked by vandals, apparently not for the first time. The ‘I’ is now missing. Which begs the question: Who loves Uzhhorod?

The Oldies decided ‘to make things more interesting’ and return to Slovakia via a different border crossing. Big mistake. The first indication that we were in for a long haul was the fact that all the locals seemed to have come well prepared. Armed with cushions, food, drinks and a seemingly endless supply of cigarettes, it looked like no one was expecting to get across quickly. Nobody was getting annoyed, nobody upset. They just sat and smoked and snacked and smoked and chatted and smoked while they waited patiently. Smoking. These few hundred metres of border must qualify as the biggest ashtray in the world.

Our progress through two lots of Ukrainian officials followed by two lots of Slovakian officials took a total of four hours. I had plenty of time to work out that our speed averaged out at about 175 metres per hour. That must be some kind of record.

Knowing that our campsite gate is locked for the night at 10pm, the Wingless Wonders had resigned themselves to having to park outside and climb over the fence. Their eyes lit up on our arrival when they saw that the lights were still on at the bar, in spite of it being long past closing time. As we pulled in, the campsite owners jumped up and waved, obviously delighted and relieved to see us. It turned out that they had been really worried about us and had waited up especially. Once the Oldies told them where we had been, the reaction was, ‘Ah! If you’d told us you were going to the Ukraine we’d have known to expect you back late.’

It seems that our border crossing speed was no record after all.