Julia and Chica

Tony got up early to fix Elena’s bumper – he wanted to make it look a little more satisfying to the police (there ain’t nothing a bit of gaffer don’t fix, eh?!). 

Tone's handy work (signed off by a heart on the windscreen! <3)

We breakfasted with some delicious kielbasa and bacon scrambled eggs and decided we’d have another coffee before we hit the road (half hoping to see Elena again before we left).

Elena came down and sat with us, instinctively. She repeated much of what she said the night before (her biggest concern being the nuclear reactors). She repeated how she didn’t feel safe anywhere. When we explained we were heading to the border to lend a hand she told us to save ourselves and to head in the opposite direction.

The van started fine and within an hour we were at the border, being redirected by police to where we should park in a field adjacent to a town hall. Before we could get out of Smiley, a guy appeared at Tony’s window and explained the deal: people are dropped off, they go inside to be registered, where there’s heat, food and hot drinks, and they can pick up supplies from the tents outside the main building. There were portaloos dotted around and an orange tent where the police were based for individuals taking refugees to give in their driving licence/the refugees to give in their passport details (to prevent those nasty opportunists who are into human trafficking). It was an organised affair.

Tony and I explained to one lady who seemed to be running things (and who spoke English) that we were there to take however many people can fit in the van to wherever they wanted to go. She explained there were limitations and, if we had two seats, we could take two people only. There were press milling about, red cross, convoys of international supplies coming in, and it seemed there were more helpers than refugees. The leading lady explained that “it was quiet” and she’d let us know if she found two people looking for a lift.

A German guy walked by with a sign in Cyrillic and explained it meant “2 free places” so we replicated it and stood there with it on show to the line of taxis that were clearly going back and forth to nearer the border. It took us an hour or two to realise that this sign actually meant “2 places to Germany”. We got it corrected and waited a few more hours as the refugees were wheeled in. (:’()

After about 4 hours, we were matched with Julia and her dog, Chica. Julia lives in a small town near the border with Belarus and took 3 different car journeys to get to us. We’re taking her to where her husband and in-laws are in west Poland. We’ve come back to the same hotel that we stayed at last night and will hit the road as daylight appears tomorrow.

As I’m sat here typing, more families are being shipped into the café and the number of UA (Ukrainian) plates in the car park increases.

I’m conscious that all of this might be a bit heavy so here’s a few other things I’ve learned about Tony this week, that are, no doubt, of the utmost interest:

• he’s unable to suck a sweet without crunching it (and his favs are anything minty)
• his favourite colour is blue
• he often starts sentences and doesn’t finish them
• he LOVES the sound of my voice
• he has an incredible heart.

 

P.S. Mr Garlick: Are you OK? Asking for a friend.