1. Pearl of the Black Sea

Odesa is not easy to get to at the moment. Yes, an EU or US citizen can stay in the country without a visa for up to 90 days, but Ukrainian airspace and, hence, the airports are closed, and there are only a limited number of land connections. In terms of getting to Odesa, the only practical way is to fly to Warsaw, then on to Chișinău, and from Moldova by bus. Although - I know that some people prefer to fly to Bucharest and then take a longer bus route from there.

It doesn’t really matter, which way to do it - the trip to the Pearl of the Black Sea from somewhere in the EU takes anyhow a whole extra-long day. Once in Chișinău, a local acquaintance of my friend living in Odesa drove me from the airport to the bus station, where I had to wait for an hour and a half surrounded by stray dogs and loudly passengers inviting taxi drivers, before boarding a brand new Mercedes Benz minibus belonging to the company GalTrans. The only other passenger was a middle aged lady - obviously a regular - who bought her ticket straight from the driver.

The journey from Chișinău to Odesa is officially scheduled to take five hours. In reality, however, it all depends on what's happening at the border. Last winter, for example, there could have been a long wait as Ukraine was having enormous problems with power due to Russian aerial raids targeting the country's electricity systems. And without power, there was no internet, and without internet, no passport check. Even if there's electricity, if the border guards deem it necessary to question or investigate someone more thoroughly, you'll also have to wait. So, the journey can take up to seven hours.

Leaving Moldova was easy - a formal document check. But entering darkened Ukraine did make my heart beat faster. Before reaching the border crossing, the bus was stopped by a soldier in field uniform standing next to a barrier of sandbags. The soldier asked the bus driver something, then we drove to the somewhat illuminated border crossing, where first a young soldier in field uniform (I don't know what it was like in peacetime, but now the Ukrainian border is clearly militarized) entered and took our passports. He was followed by a customs officer who asked me to open my bag.

Neither he nor the soldier who had asked for documents earlier was interested in my numerous printed documents - Covid pass, insurance, and whatnot. What caught the eye of the customs officer was the reflector hanging from my backpack. I explained what it was. He nodded and said he knew. I told him they are common in many countries. He fiddled with the reflector for a moment and said that in Ukraine they don't have them, but they should be mandatory. He then asked about my financial situation. When I offered to show him the cash, he kindly shook his head and left. A few minutes later, the passports were returned and the journey resumed.

So it went as I had been warned: no one cares about the Covid insurance or the vaccination passport, no one cares about the Airbnb receipt or where exactly you're going. The Ukrainian state has bigger concerns, and a citizen of the European Union is welcome.

At this point, I'll stop writing because it was just my first trip, a scouting mission of sorts. A lot of the things I saw, noticed, or experienced were just the tip of the iceberg. Looking back at this first short trip that lasted only for a week, I can say that, although without tourists (the time of year plays a part here, of course, with early January being the most depressing period in even the biggest tourist meccas) and suffering from power and water cuts, Odesa welcomed me as a vibrant, functional, and exciting metropolis.

Not only is it extremely affordable for those coming from the eurozone (the hryvnia exchange rate against the euro was in the winter of 2023 only 43 hryvnias = €1; a year later more like 40-41 hryvnias = €1), but the city can satisfy even the most demanding tourist. Everything is there: the shops are packed with goods, there are restaurants of every cuisine, style, and level, there are parties, the opera is working, there is plenty of cheap accommodation, the Moldavanka flea market and the large Pryvoz market are buzzing with life. True, some hotels are closed. And in the event of a power cut, the streets are filled with the monotonous rumbling of generators whirring everywhere. Life also ends around 10 pm - but starts earlier.

And during my first stay, I only heard an air siren wail once. It didn't make anyone even shrug, and I, too, continued to enjoy a leisurely breakfast at Café Central, and then headed for a walk.