Belarus. Way back probably more than a decade ago, I saw the Friends episode where David gets back from Minsk. He spoke a few words of Russian to Phoebe and I remember thinking how beautiful the words were, and how the city name of Minsk sounded like a fairy-tale land. At that moment, without knowing anything more about the country, I knew that one day, I would go and see the country. And my first ‘I will go to this country’ promise was made.
While it had been on my travel list for years, intimidating visa requirements, a lack of available information, very little tourism, and some unfortunate travel horror stories, preventing me from making concrete plans.
Finally, after spending a few years learning Russian, and gaining some confidence in difficult visa applications, I figured it was time to finally check the country off my list.
I opted to take the once-weekly train from Vienna to Brest, reasoning that at least I could board the train in English-speaking civilization, before subjecting myself to the unknown. 😉
Upon boarding my compartment, I met my roommate, a young mother traveling with her toddler. She’d been on the train since Nice, France (where it started), and would be riding it through to Perm, Russia (a journey lasting just over 3 days). She then had to take a 3 hour bus ride south where finally, she would arrive home. She took this journey twice a year, in order to see her family still living in Russia.
Happily enough, she had married an Italian and spoke Russian, Italian, and English very well. Her toddler went to a German daycare, learned Italian from his dad, Russian from herself, and watched cartoons in English every day. She told me how there were certain colours that he only knew in one language, and that he occasionally got mixed up when counting to ten.
The journey continued uneventfully. I ran through my Russian conversational skills (all 12 requests!), and she tried to teach me a few more useful phrases.
Her son was very popular on our car, and soon various families were dropping in. While I tried to keep up with conversations, my Russian didn’t go much beyond introductions and ‘where is the toilet’. Because this was fairly obvious to find on a train, my conversational skills weren’t exactly stellar.
So instead I pulled out my origami skills. I ripped a napkin apart until I had a square and proceeded to recreate the one skill I retained from my visit to Japan. Creating a decent, somewhat recognizable, paper crane.
Safe to say, I was pretty soon the most popular (and only!) non-Russian speaker on the train!
Several hours later, after a short sleep, we were woken around 3am for our border crossing into Belarus. I knew I was prepared. I had everything pre-booked. My visa was correct, I had a return train and plane ticket out, just in case. I didn’t have any Belarusian roubles, but I had my fingers crossed that they would take pity on me when they realized I was just a poor, half-awake tourist.
The guards come through the car, complete with massive weapons and sniffer dogs. Our compartment was first and they ran through their questions to my new best friend. They took her passport and handed it back within about a minute.
Then they turned to me and rattled off some very fast Russian. I said hello, appologized for only being able to speak a little Russian, and asked them to slow down. The third time they repeated their directions, I was almost ready to cry, and my friend stepped in.
I handed over my passport…and they disappeared with it! The other guard remained, and my friend told me he was asking about any alcohol or cigarettes. I pulled out a small (200mls) bottle of wine I’d planned to drink before the crossing.
The guard grabbed it out of my hands, and examined it closely. While holding the bottle, he held out his other hand expectantly. According to my friend, he was telling me that my ‘visa wasn’t complete, I still needed to pay an entrance fee of 50,000 Belarus roubles’ (about 3$).
Unfortunately, Belarusian Rubles were the only currency I’d been unable to find outside the country. I held out a handful of Russian Rubles, US Dollars, and Euros, and managed ‘no belarusian rubles’. He frowned and then asked for 100€ (an absolutely crazy amount, compared to what the Belarusian cost had been). My friend let out a surprised sound, showing everyone just how bizarre this was.
Thankfully, she conversed with our guard and then turned to me. She quietly let me know that this was a bribe to be allowed to bring in the bottle of wine. If I preferred, I could also let him have the bottle of wine. 3€ bottle of wine or 100€ ‘visa fix’? Easy choice!
Once the transaction was clear, he (actually!) smiled, and continued down the path.
My passport was returned to me about 10 minutes later, and shortly after, I arrived in Brest.
With that lovely welcome behind me, what else could go happen?! 🙂
Have you ever had a sketchy border crossing? How did it turn out? Let me know in the comments!
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