On a Greek bound bus heading home to Greece. It still amazes me that I can take public transportation all the way from Sofia to our driveway. Being out in the world these days in Europe one can’t help to encounter an overwhelming sense of humanity. Ukrainian refugees are everywhere and I can’t help noticing the look of panic in their eyes. At the Bulgarian/Greek border there is a welcome kiosk with water, sandwiches, coffee, a charging station.
As we were wait longer than usual to get through passport control, because there are three Ukrainian passengers on the bus, I can’t help but notice a striking young woman pacing outside of a different bus, her bus is full of Ukrainians. She seems anxious, ready to be on her way. I decide to reach out to her, maybe distract her for a bit with my usual teacher young person kind of questioning. First I ask if she speaks English, she gives me a big smile and starts asking me a ton of questions. Anastasia is very curious about what an American teacher is doing hanging out at the border, as if her own situation wasn’t a big deal. I learn that Anastasia is a 20 year-old classical pianist studying in Kharkiv, or was studying until Russian troops invaded her home. Now she is fleeing with her two sisters, on her way to Athens where her mother lives. Her father is still in Ukraine fighting. She hopes to keep studying piano maybe in Athens, maybe in Poland—she admits her future is uncertain. Again the guilt washes over me, as I wave goodbye to her as I run to catch my bus, guilt because I’m headed home, unlike Anastasia.
❤️🩹🇺🇦🇬🇷