Train Travel in Ukraine

The biggest challenge was buying tickets. To percieve that tickets are not sold at trains station, like in any other country, was difficult. Tickets go on sale two weeks before departure and are mainly sold online. The Ukrainian Railways app has an English version, but for many tickets I was also asked to verify my identity using a Ukrainian digital ID app—which I couldn’t use as a foreign visitor.

Apparently these restrictions are meant to stop ticket resellers from snapping them up and selling at a profit. For a foreign traveller though? Navigating it felt like an adventure in itself.

Each trip was different In Odesa, I managed to buy a ticket at the station. For other journeys—like Kyiv to Lviv—I needed help from Ukrainian friends (using their phone numbers). My 3am departures from Lviv to Przemysl/Poland) were easier to book without the extra verification, but I still had to go to the station, line up at different windows, and finally someone explained how foreigners can book those trains via the Ukrainian Railways app.

Odesa’s railway station is a real beauty—inside and out. Opened in 1883, it still has that old-world elegance. And the first-class waiting lounge? Something else entirely. Even the regular areas look stylish, with plenty of charging points for modern travellers.

Odessa → Kyiv by train

I chose the morning train because I wanted to watch the countryside roll by, read, work, and catch up on social media. Day trains in Ukraine come with beds too—unfortunately, I ended up with an upper bunk. For the first few hours I could sit on the lower one, but that didn’t last once the train filled up.

And internet? Forget reliable access. I only occasionally caught a signal as we passed through towns and cities.

With nobody to chat to (and a phone habit I definitely need to address), it became a bit of a test—but thankfully my fellow passengers were wonderfully considerate. Nobody spoke loudly—not even the children—so I managed to get some sleep.

Most people brought their own food. I hadn’t, assuming there would be a dining car for a nine-hour journey. Luckily, at some stops, local women came to the carriage doors selling homemade food.

Kviv to Lvi in Third class

Arriving at Kviv trainstation is quite something, the first class waiting are is simply imperial. The only downside, nobody is sitting in there, only the lady overlooking this Posh

Booking the train from Kyiv to Lviv was a nightmare. The app sent me round and round in circles, and nothing I did seemed to get me closer to a ticket.

Eventually I had to rely on Ukrainian friends—using their identity and phone number—to get the booking through. Once that was sorted, I was more than ready to leave Kyiv. I took whatever I could get: one of the last tickets in third class.

When I finally got on board, I was honestly shocked. From the outside, it looked like an ordinary train. Inside, at first sight, it felt like a hospital train from war times.

Each carriage had 33 bunk beds, and every single one was occupied. There were white sheets everywhere—a sight that’s hard to forget.

Lucky (in the worst possible way) I got the top bunk. There was so little space that I couldn’t even sit up properly. I’d brought my laptop to sort out my photos… but that was simply impossible. Even basic internet access was limited—only available when the train passed large towns—so I was mostly stuck with nothing to do.

I hadn’t even brought a book, and being up so high meant I couldn’t really see the scenery either. The journey became, in a word, horrible.

But—somehow—the other passengers made it survivable. Everyone was considerate: people whispered, and there was no one blasting music or acting like a lunatic. The fact that I was meeting friends at the end helped time move a little faster. Only a mittel

Leaving Ukraine in the middle of the night (Lviv → Przemyśl/Poland) 🇺🇦🇵🇱

I couldn’t buy a ticket online from Lviv to Przemyśl/Poland. To book that route, you need a special government app, and it has to be loaded with all kinds of documents—something that felt simply impossible as a visitor.

At the train station it was the same story. Every window I tried, people just kept telling me to book online. I started to feel trapped. Would I even manage to leave?

On top of that, tickets are always sold out. They only go on sale two months before departure. Apparently these restrictions are in place to stop people buying large numbers of tickets and selling them for profit.

Then—luck arrived in the form of a kind man at the information desk. He showed me a train I could book without the government app: a departure at 2am.

I booked it immediately, without a second thought.

The wait… then the chaos at the border

I was worried going to the train station at 2am, because of the curfew. “Taxis to train station are allowed” I was told. While waiting for the taxi outside the hotel, group of drunken people were passing. Well, the definition of curfew in Lviv was obviously different to other cities.

The train wasn’t allowed to leave Lviv until it had sat in the station for two hours, since the Polish authorities had such a backlog at immigration that everyone was kept waiting until around 4am before we even departed.

There were various stops in between, long before reaching the border. Polish immigration officers came on board with dogs, carefully sniffing almost every person. And worst of all: during this long checking process, all toilets were closed.

Men were especially scrutinized. At one point, a whole family had to leave the train—one woman with three children included.

A bizarre evacuation—and a mad sprint

In Przemyśl, we still had to remain on the train. I wanted to get out, but the other ladies shook their heads: “no.”

It was a strange scene. Ukrainian conductors stood soldierlike next to each carriage. Then “our” conductor raced up and shouted something. Everyone suddenly jumped off the train and started running.

So I ran too.

I figured that if there was already a backlog at 2am, I needed to get as far ahead as possible. We all had to squeeze through a narrow metal door that kept closing.

I made it to immigration among the first—when I reached the stairs, I looked back and saw an endless line of people still on the platform. The train had at least 10 carriages, and each one seemed to hold around 50 seats.

Smooth immigration (for EU citizens)

Passing through was surprisingly easy. I have an EU passport, and there was a dedicated line for EU citizens. Luggage was screened and then—just like that—I was out.

My friends had prepared me well. I’d bought a train ticket to Warsaw leaving at 5:30. My watch said 6:20am when we arrived. I was certain I had missed the train. I was tired and angry about the delay.

When I showed the ticket to the lady at the counter, she looked at me and said, “You have 5 minutes.” I was totally confused—until a kind man behind me explained there was an hour time difference.

Holiday Inn: the final reset

Five hours later, I checked into my beloved Holiday Inn Warsaw Central. I barely moved for the next two days.

It’s a 10-minute walk from the station, and it has everything I need—especially the cozy lobby that looks like a living room. And that’s where I met Andres, which became the start of another adventure.