Crossing the Ukraine-Romania Border Just in Time
“Then they cried to the Lord in their trouble,
and he delivered them from their distress.”
It was February 23rd, and we had been hearing the rumors of war for a while. We weren’t in denial, but with our family and friends here, we had no plans to leave. Waking up the next day to the sound of sirens, our plans quickly changed.
Early in the morning, when the streets were still quiet, we walked to Roma’s parents house. Since they had a car, they were able to help us gain time by driving us to get our COVID tests. Only one or two hours since the proclamation of war, we saw the streets begin to fill up. Traffic was heavier than usual and you could see young families piling their quickly thrown-together supplies into their cars. On our way back from our COVID tests, we were stopped in the road to let a convoy pass, heading off to the fighting. Though it was happening so quickly, there was no denying it - we were at war.
Watching the convoy head off to war.
As we waited for our COVID results to come in, which were scheduled to come back at 4:00 p.m., we got busy packing our things. Having only lived in our apartment for a month, we didn’t have much. But we still couldn’t take everything. It was a weird feeling choosing the things we could carry and wondering if we would ever see the rest again.
Fortunately, our tests came in two hours early, just before 2:00 p.m. It didn’t leave much time to say goodbyes, but we quickly hugged goodbye to Roma’s mom and sister and headed out the door. Roma’s dad had offered to drive us to the nearest border, since there would clearly be no busses at a time like this.
As we headed out, despite the new reality there was no sense of panic. Only a calm but firm sense of doing what must be done as quickly as possible.
When we arrived, we pulled into a long line of cars with no border in sight. Roma hopped out of the car to get a better glimpse of the situation and was gone for about an hour and a half, walking on foot and back to the actual border. In the time of his walk, our van moved less than the distance of a small-town swimming pool. If we stayed in the van, we’d be here all night.
Deciding it was the best option, Roma and I said a quick goodbye to his dad and headed out the door with what we could carry. It took us about an hour on foot with our bags to reach to border, but by the time we arrived, we saw that the on-foot line was going much faster.
By about an hour past sunset, we had crossed successfully, making it into Romania. We later found out that we had made it just hours before the 18-60 rule, preventing males ages 18-60 to leave the country. Though we had mixed feelings about leaving Roma’s home in its time of need, we were at least relieved to be together.
I had expected to see U.S. troops there, as I was told they would be stationed near that particular crossing, but saw none. But before either Roma or I could worry, we were greeted by the Romanian people. The first two men we came across were eager to answer our questions and point us on our way. Before we could get far, some youth came up to us to give us food and water. We were immediately ushered into a bus - free of charge - taking us to the nearest mid-sized city. The help of the Romanians, compassionate to us and disgusted at Putin, continued from there.
As the other people in the van were taken to their stops, we became the last ones. Our driver didn’t speak much English or any Ukrainian/Russian, but he was still eager to help. So eager, actually, that he drove to three different hotels, literally sprinting through the doors to ask if there was room left, but in each case, there was none.
But still, he didn't give up. We tried yet another hotel and were relieved to find that there was still a room in this one. It wasn't a cheap one, but we still had money from our wedding and were happy to pay to spend the night inside.
The next morning, we woke up and began planning our next steps. Thankfully, I had friends in Germany that had offered us a place to stay. The only problem was finding out how to get there. The cheapest flights to Berlin that weekend from the town we were staying in were about $1,700 USD each. Knowing we would need money for upcoming living expenses and further uncertainties, we weren’t about to burn through our savings for tickets like that. But we knew we couldn’t just stay in Romania either.
After hours of searching, talking through options and even waking up my parents during their night for advice, we decided to buy plane tickets from the capital of Romania (about 6 hours away by train) to Berlin. They weren’t cheap, but they were a much, much better option than the tickets from our town.
It took another day of making preparations, relying on the help of kind strangers telling us where to go and enduring some motion sickness as we hit the road. But finally, on Saturday night, we had made it past the bulk of our travels. As we crossed through passport control, the German officers looked at Roma’s Ukrainian passport and offered us both legal advice and sympathy. Finally, we got to the last set of doors and were greeted by our hosts with warm smiles and a sign. Thanks to kind people and a lot of prayer, we had finally found the way out.
Roma watching the sunset with our friends who gave us a place to stay.