Globetrotter in Ukraine war: ‘Even if the Russians bomb, I may stay in Odesa’

“I’m a bum.” Thus, Ibrahim Mohamed, 71, introduces himself after extending his wiry hand to the reporter. He is a dark-skinned ascetic with all the time in the world for conversation. A rare bird in Odesa, which these days is rocked by Russian bombs and where it is difficult to meet a foreigner who is not a humanitarian worker, soldier, or journalist. Mohamed has been a perpetual traveler since 1977 — almost half a century. Not even the latest attacks on the Black Sea town where he lives — five in one week — have made him change his plans.

“I have paid my rent until August 31,” he said early Sunday morning, shortly after several missiles struck near the hostel where he lives in the historic district. This Egyptian-American’s life is a constant aimless journey, enjoying freedom and happiness away from money. He was born in Alexandria (Egypt) and considers himself a Nubian from Aswan. “I want to visit the Canary Islands and do the Camino de Santiago,” he said on July 13 while recalling his visits to Spain, offering details, like those of Seville, that reveal a memory that is proof of the years and kilometers he has traveled. But what is he doing in wartime Ukraine?

The Dream Hostel was a backpackers’ sanctuary on the shores of the Black Sea when Russia began its major invasion of Ukraine in February 2022. Far from the luxuries that other hotels offer in Odesa, its bunk beds, corridors with colorful pennants, common areas and narrow access through a neighboring courtyard made this the perfect place for globetrotters on a budget and not in a hurry. This is the case for Mohamed. He was just another “dreamer” among those staying at the hostel when the war shook Odesa, but he decided to stay.

“That early morning of February 24 my partner at the Dream Hostel in Dnipro called me to tell me that the invasion had begun. By seven o’clock in the morning, none of the eight employees were here. They were all gone, and I was alone at the front desk,” says Giorgi Bloshchitsia, the owner of the establishment, leaning on the reception counter. In those days, there were long-stay travelers from Japan, the United States, and Australia. “I estimate that there were about 20 foreigners who were here at the beginning of the invasion. Of these, 17 left in the first week,” he adds. In the end, only Ibrahim Mohamed remained.

“This is crazy,” laments this man, who recently cut off the dreadlocks that hung down from his head and beard to below his waist. “I can’t bear to see the children running to get to safety from the bombs, but what can you do? This world is horrible, with so many people killing each other.”

The meeting with Ibrahim Mohamed took place a few days before Russia began shelling Odesa. He stands out among Ukrainians fleeing from other war zones and hosted by the hostel since it began working with the Norwegian Refugee Council (NRC), an NGO with extensive experience around the world in crisis situations. Mohamed explains that his life is a perpetual journey, “unhurried and with long stops.” This is how he arrived in Ukraine in 2016 and how the Russian invasion caught him in this very country. He stresses that among the dozens of countries he has visited — “the number is not important” — Russia is not among them.

His income is limited to a pension from the U.S. government. “I can survive with a handful of dollars here,” he admits. At the hostel, one pays 2,800 Hrivna per month (just under $77) for a spot in a bunk bed. “I cook up there,” he says, pointing to the upper floors of the establishment. “I always eat something simple,” he adds to emphasize his almost hermit-like way of life.

The bunk beds of those backpackers have now been occupied for months by Ukrainians displaced within their own country by the war. Some 7,000 have passed through in these 17 months. “We now provide shelter for 80 people. Many are temporary refugees from regions such as Kherson or Mikolaiv (near Odesa) following the liberation of those territories,” Bloshchitsia explains. The establishment was at its fullest when local troops advanced into Kherson in last November’s counteroffensive and drove the invaders back to the left bank of the Dnipro River. “We had as many as 100 people at a time, with some sleeping in the corridors,” he adds.

The general rule is that they are people in transit who are rebuilding their lives far from their hometowns. They usually stay at the hostel for about a month, says the manager, until they are able to find rental housing, a job or get their papers back in order to try to normalize their lives.

Giorgi Bloshchitsia regrets that the authorities left them alone after their promise to help them run the hostel in the first months of the invasion. He maintains that they were promised a collaboration that never arrived. “Zero,” he insists. “The first three months we managed it on our own, with my wife, my mother, and one employee,” he says. The situation did not begin to normalize until the NRC came into play.

The NCR maintains a facility with four IDP transit centers in Odesa, three of which belong to the three Dream Hostels in the franchise owned by Bloshchitsia. Their capacity is 200 people and up to 250 in case of emergency. They provide accommodation for up to one month in exceptional cases. The NRC provides one hot meal per person, per day and free legal and psychological counseling, explains Dimitri Zviadadze, head of the NRC’s southern Ukraine zone.

The hostel manager shows the only thing they ended up receiving from the authorities: a document thanking the hostel’s owners and staff for housing the displaced persons, signed by Tetiana Markova, the then-head of Culture and Tourism of the Odesa City Council. Bloshchitsia and his wife, Veronika, can’t help but laugh when he, with some derision, places it back on the reception counter as if it were a treasure.

And what about Ibrahim Mohamed? The globetrotter wouldn’t mind moving on, but he understands that his economic situation prevents him from settling in places beyond his humble budget. He repeats several times that he would love to return to Spain, where he has not been for more than a decade, although he does not understand those who make the trip as a weekend jaunt at a whirlwind pace.

After being asked whether the latest Russian bombardment of Odesa had changed his plans, he simply said that he is not clear what to do as of August 31. Shortly before, the invading army had struck a dozen buildings in the city center (not far from the Dream Hostel) as well as the Orthodox cathedral, which has been on UNESCO’s list of heritage to be protected since February. “I would like to go to the Canary Islands, Munich, the United States, or Egypt... But I may still stay in Odesa,” he ventures. Although at some point he says he is “tired and already in retreat.” But it does not seem to be the bombs and the war Russian President Vladimir Putin’s war that set his itinerary.

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