Belarus

BELARUS


On arriving in Minsk I was pleasantly surprised by the modern central station. It had all the facilities one could ask for. I sat with my backpack in the main concourse. It was 8:10 a.m. on a sunny August morning. Studying the map of the downtown area in my guidebook, marking places of importance. I would shack-up at the Hotel Jubileynaya. Reservations had been made. The station was busy, people on the move, others waiting patiently for their train. Arrival passengers been greeted by loved ones. I glanced at the vast timetable, destinations in Cyrillic: St. Petersburg, Brest, Moscow, Odessa, Kiev. I was in no hurry. An hour had passed. An automatic teller machine[a.t.m.] near-by did not get a single customer. I wondered how many locals had bank accounts. Unsure the value of the Belarus rubble. I withdrew one hundred thousand rubbles. Not wanting to depart with my U.S. dollars that I always carry for an emergency.
I watched carefully with my map as the taxi driver made his way to the hotel. Been a stranger, I'm wary of been ripped-off with a detour drive. Checking with the receptionist, 1,865 rubbles to one U.S. dollar. That's great, a huge bundle stuffed in my pocket worth damn all.

BELARUS//UKRAINE BORDER

As we approached the border, the Byelorussia immigration authorities made themselves known. They had stern looks with Soviet style uniforms. Handing my passport for the appropriate exit stamp. Looking through the pages, making comments to his associates. Every previous stamp was studied. Then he began to browse through his official notebook. My heartbeat increased. My mind started racing. Have I got anything contentious. How much money am I allowed to carry across this border. The rules are different here and frankly I don't know them. It was just past midnight, a heavy darkness with few lights outside. A real feeling of isolation. Would this be one of those dreaded border crossings that we hear stories about. Was he looking to squeeze dosh out of me. 'But let's not panic, I can handle this.' A much older officer came by. Words were exchanged. Finally my passport was stamped after a long pause. Off they went, maybe there was bigger fish to fry.

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