In case you missed it… this is a continuation of my Peace Corps evacuation story. I published part 1 — about getting the call to evacuate and booking my train out of Khmelnytskyi — yesterday.
Today’s post will talk about how — what should have been a simple flight out of Kyiv — ended up as day after day of COVID-induced delays, flight cancelations and hotel shuffling.
My train pulled into Kyiv early the next morning. My host sister Ira, who lives in Kyiv, had gotten the train information from Mama Natasha, so she was waiting on the platform for me. She helped me get my luggage off the train and into storage at the train station, and then took me to breakfast.
I was shocked at how desolate Kyiv was. Like I said, Ukrainians take health and wellness very seriously. So when they were told to quarantine… they quarantined. Immediately.
Ira took me to one of her favorite restaurants, Хлебный, for breakfast… where I had avocado toast and syrniki.
We talked for a bit. She told me about her work, and about how COVID was affecting everything in Kyiv, and reassured me that everything would work out OK. She’s the best.
After breakfast, she helped me collect my things and call a cab to take me to the Airbnb that my friends booked near the Boryspil’ airport. We had been told that our flight would be leaving early the next morning, so we just booked something large and close to the airport for convenience.
I was the first to arrive at the Airbnb thanks to the timing of my train, so I claimed my (half of the) bed and took a nap until the rest of my friends arrived. I was splitting the house with my friends Chris, Rachel, Danae, Erin and Alex.
Once they all arrived and we got everything situated… we went out for what we thought was our last night in Ukraine. We went out to the closest restaurant — Маріанна (Marianna) — for food and Georgian wine. So much wine. ALL the wine. We got drunk and danced to Kazka and professed our love for each other and cried and laughed and reminisced and — since we were all under the impression that we’d be back in a month or two —we had way too much fun.
We ended up getting absolutely trashed and stopping at the ATB grocery store next door to buy stuff for breakfast the next morning. We also bought all the candies and Ukrainian snacks we could fit into our luggage, figuring we could take them back with us.
The next morning started with champagne and french toast and talking and laughing and joking. The situation really hadn’t kicked in for any of us, yet. We went out to get pizza for lunch and then went to the closest ATM to empty our Ukrainian bank accounts so we could exchange our currency at the airport, but other than that, we just hung out in the Airbnb and got ready to head to the airport.
Then, flight time. We all called Ubers and headed to Boryspil’ International. Now, I haven’t noted this yet, but I was my oblast’s warden… which meant I was responsible for communicating with all the PCVs in the Khmelnytska oblast, tracking them and ensuring they arrived at the airport prior to our flight. So, because I was a warden, I had to get to the airport early.
I got there, went to a briefing and then the waiting started. I had to check in with all my oblast’s volunteers as they arrived, and then after that, it was just… waiting.
…and waiting.
…and waiting.
Hours of waiting. We were all starting to get a bit antsy. Well, turns out? Our flight had been canceled.
So… what to do with hundreds of volunteers crying and dancing and screaming and hugging and singing and generally making a nuisance of the airport lobby?
Peace Corps staff ended up splitting us up into two groups. One group (mine) was sent to a hotel near the airport, and the other group was bused to a different hotel.
The plan was that we would just wait it out for the night and then fly out the next day.
Except… that didn’t happen. The hotel we ended up at was super low on rooms, so I ended up sharing a room and a bed with my friend Sarah. We were all starving at this point. Peace Corps sent some staff out to put together ration bags for the volunteers, so dinner was a bottle of water, an orange and a candy bar. (I’m not kidding.)
I was still wardening and I was part of like seven different group chats between other wardens, my oblast volunteers and Peace Corps staff, so there was no rest or sleep happening.
The next day, I was down in the hotel lobby super early to start portioning and handing out food with the other wardens. We ended up ordering pizza in bulk for PCVs, while trying to figure out what the next move was.
Then, we got word that we’d have to leave the hotel in a few hours, since it was shutting down due to COVID. We still didn’t have an ETA on our flight out of Ukraine, so we were going to have to head to a different hotel.
Great, more luggage moving.
We ended up filling up buses and moving all the PCVs from our airport-adjacent hotel to Hotel Ibis in downtown Kyiv, which is actually the hotel that Danae and I stayed at for safety and security training the month before.
Then… more waiting, and planning, and logistics.
I ended up getting put in a room with Ashley, a response volunteer from my oblast that I hadn’t really interacted with before. All of Kyiv was basically locked down due to quarantine, so there was absolutely nothing to do but sit and wait.
160+ drunk Peace Corps Volunteers all locked in a hotel and swiping away on Tinder? What could go wrong?
I ended up making a few new friends thanks to various group chats, so we met up one night and all got drunk on cheap Ukrainian vodka.
I honestly lost track of time. It was just sitting and waiting and drinking and napping when you could and showering when you could and picking the meat out of gross hotel food and keeping your phone charged and your ringer on next to your head at all times.
At least our hotel had a pretty view of Kyiv?
We later found out that our Country Director had booked us a flight on one airline. However, that airline couldn’t secure the paperwork to deal with the border closures, and every time some paperwork was filed, a new COVID-related restriction was put into place, and the paperwork and negotiations just couldn’t happen quickly enough. So, our flight kept getting delayed and canceled and delayed and canceled and delayed and canceled.
Finally, we switched airlines. Because our CD is an RPCV who served in Honduras, he spoke Spanish. He was able to directly communicate with a Spain-based airline to charter us a flight out of Kyiv.
So, finally, things started to come together.
Because the new airline seemed much more promising than the old airline, our CD felt confident enough that we could get the process moving. Us wardens worked to get all the luggage out in front of the hotel, and then to get PCVs loaded onto buses headed for the airport.
It was a multi-hour process.
We had the luggage sitting outside the airport for several hours while waiting. By the end of the day, we started to think that the flight wasn’t going to happen. I made a run to the grocery store with a few other PCVs for staples (snacks) and necessities (wine).
Then, finally — FINALLY! — we got the email. I was like, half a bottle of wine in at this point, too. I swear, this whole process was a shit show. We were all constantly drunk, hungry, sleep-deprived and just generally in really bad shape.
Regardless, I managed to (tipsily) get my oblast onto the bus with their luggage and to the Boryspil’ airport… again.
After one more tear-soaked bus ride through Kyiv, we were at the airport… again. We got there a little before 1 a.m.
It was crazy to get back to the airport. It was like a switch had flipped. All of my friends had spent their days at the other hotel (we were split into two groups, remember) so I went from sobbing like an idiot to laughing and smiling right away.
Of course, because NOTHING in this evacuation could go right, the ticket machines at the airport broke… so they ended up handwriting all of our boarding passes before stamping our passports.
It took hours to get us all checked in and through security. The airport was closed to the public because Ukraine’s borders had been closed, so we were the only flight in there. Everything was shut down, so we couldn’t buy food or alcohol or anything. Honestly, at that point, we were all so exhausted we just wanted it to be over.
It had been SEVEN DAYS of evacuation hell at this point.
Finally, just as the sun started to rise, we were all on the plane and ready to take off.
I remember the moment that our flight took off more vividly than I remember most things in my life.
My friends and I all sat together, naturally. I’m a window seat bitch, and Danae likes to cuddle. Erin loves the aisle seat, so the three of us all took over a row together. Danae briefly elbowed me out of the way to get a photo of the sunrise, and then we all sat and waited for our flight to take off.
I don’t sleep well on planes. So, while Danae and Erin immediately passed out on each other before takeoff, I put my headphones on and stared out the window.
I’d been messaging a few other PCVs on Facebook Messenger and a few Ukrainians on Instagram, so I caught up on messages and just… existed. I was exhausted. And numb. But my brain was racing so fast that I couldn’t really form coherent thoughts. I was tired, but I wasn’t.
The plane’s engine came to life, and I looked around the cabin. The few volunteers that were still awake looked just as desolate and heartbroken and empty as I felt.
Nico and Vinz’s “Praying to a God” came on my Spotify right as the plane wheels lifted off the tarmac, and I started crying as I slid my iPhone into airplane mode.
I don’t think I’ll ever be able to listen to that song again without tearing up.
Goodbye, Ukraine.
Anyway… we had two more flights after this one to get home… so part three of the evacuation saga will come soon.
This post was originally published Feb. 3, 2021. Its timestamp has been updated to better reflect the timeline of my Peace Corps service.
