Belarus-American Relations

Alla tried to invite our landlord and landlady out for dinner, but they weren’t quick to accept the dates we offered. The landlord joked to me that he and I would work out various economic issues and U.S. – Belarusian relations while the women sorted out matters of entertainment. His joke about economics made immediate sense because he’s a professor and former director of the major business school here and he knows that I have an MBA. I didn’t think much about his other joke until today.

I have commented many times that folks here seem to go out of their way to be nice to me once they learn that I’m a U.S. citizen. Until Evgeny Ivanovich cracked his little joke, however, I never imagined there were any big ideals at work in their kindness. Now I imagine differently, though perhaps I am projecting. Just as I am doing what little I can in pursuit of better relations between our two countries, I suspect many Belarusian citizens feel the same way. It appears to me that at the local level, people are taking steps to build a special bridge, perhaps knowing that our governments are suspicious of each other but hoping to be understood personally.

The Student Polyclinic

Because I’m here for more than three months, I was required to get a physical examination at the infamous student polyclinic. It’s an old building, and most students don’t think things there are up to local standards. Such was the case at the infirmary in my undergraduate days too, but I’m pretty sure that clinical standards here start out at a more basic level than those in California.

My own trip was pretty uneventful. I’d heard stories about long lines, but the day I arrived everything was quite calm. They took my blood pressure and listened to my heart, and then they gave me a list of places I was to go. It was kind of a treasure hunt, except that I was supposed to present my own treasures in various places. They took three different blood samples. Then there was a chest x-ray, a knee-whacking specialist and a few others. I couldn’t believe it when Alla told me to bring a bottle of urine to the clinic the next morning. “Don’t you think they want me to urinate in their presence so they know it’s really my urine?” Nope. Just present a bottle of yellow liquid and you’re good to go. I don’t know what they’re checking for. I think narcotics may be one of the factors, but the dopers probably know enough to have a friend fill the bottle.

On two occasions I was whisked ahead of other people in lines. It appeared to me that I received this courtesy as a result of my citizenship, but I am not sure. I’ll comment on this in my next entry. Anyway, the whole thing was very quick, the only hiccup being my timing at the oculist. She went off for a break just as I arrived at her office, but once she returned we sailed right through the exam. (I read the last line on her eye chart with each eye and we were done.)

Last year one of my fellow-students told about his long and thorough exam, including being told that his glasses prescription should be different. In my case, it appears simply that they are assuring themselves that I won’t be a threat to myself or to my classmates and nothing more. It’s fine with me; that’s really all I wanted too.

Getting connected

A couple of days ago I finally got to the telephone company’s central office to order an Internet connection. This had been high on my to-do list since Day One but until Monday there had been even greater priorities. (I know; this is hard for some people to imagine.)

Apparently everybody wants Internet. Maybe they got computers as New Year gifts, or maybe the line is always huge. It was plenty long enough for me. Slightly uncertain about the options on the computer screen at the door, I printed myself two different customer service tags, for two different flavors of Internet service. It probably didn’t matter what I chose, however. It looks like any of the customer service people could have helped me regardless of what I chose at the front door.

I noticed that everybody showed their passports before receiving their modems, but I figured I would be OK with my spravka. That's the document they give you while your passport is in for service. In my case, they were processing my domestic registration, and I understood that the spravka would serve me in any moment of need as long as I didn’t intend to leave Belarus.

Unfortunately, it didn’t bring the desired result. The agent called her boss, who came and looked it over thoughtfully. Somebody else came over to have a look. They asked me if I could supply in addition a rental contract from my landlord. I don’t have that yet, so I could not. Their final conclusion was that I could have Internet service but would have to buy my own modem elsewhere. They would give me a modem only with an actual passport.

I love Internet, but I’m not so addicted as to buy a modem when somebody will give me one in a few more days. They were pretty nice about it all, and when I mentioned my disappointment about waiting in line needlessly my agent said that when I return I could come directly to her without waiting in line. Cool!

Even better, my passport came back today. Now I understand why the passport is better than the spravka: The passport includes a migration card showing my registered address. Now they know that I actually live at the address where I want to buy Internet service. I guess that’s why they would have cut me some slack if I had a rental contract.

So, I’ve got the service on order and I’ve already configured the equipment. I think. The directions were all in Russian, and they included a lot of vocabulary I’ve not learned. Fortunately, I have a pretty good idea how to set up a router anyway and the router’s menu was in English. It was an entertaining exercise to guess what the directions said without resorting to a dictionary. I’ll find out how well I did when they start up the service on Monday morning.

It is what it is

I complained in a recent post that it wasn’t cold enough here. If I offended anybody, I want to apologize right now. Honestly, I meant it as a joke. Today’s weather is no longer funny, and I want my old weather back. It’s been about -15 all day. Fortunately we’re talking Celsius, but it’s still awfully cold.

I don’t really mind the outside temperature, but it turns out that this has an impact on indoor temperatures too. Apparently heating systems just steam along at whatever output they do, and when it’s not terribly cold outside it’s toasty warm inside; but when it’s miserably cold outside it’s not all that toasty inside either.

Today was my first day back at the university, and my classmate walked in and opened the window the minute he came into the classroom. Then he sat down wearing a heavy down jacket. As soon as he turned his back, I closed the window. But the damage was done and we didn’t have enough warm bodies in the room to catch up ever again. I warmed up by doing pushups during the break. Lesson learned. Wear a heavier sweater in the classroom when it’s freakn’ cold out.

The only warm place I found at the university was in the main building, where they added an extra four inches of foam insulation while I was here during the summer. They also put new chairs into the library and a bunch of new stuff in the lobby, so I’m liking that building a whole lot.

It seemed warm at home when I first walked in this evening, but it’s not really all that toasty. After dinner I went and got out a heavy wool dickie my dad wore during WW-II, added a fleece stocking cap, and brewed up some of the tea Nika gave me for Christmas. Now I’m catching up, but I really should put on an extra pair of socks too.

Meanwhile, Alla is in Gomel where it’s -25, but she says her apartment is toasty and the city is beautifully dressed in new snow. She makes it sound so good I’m sorry I’m not there. Without Alla, I’m going to be really grateful for the thick down comforter we have on our bed in Minsk.

This city is magical

I love Minsk. Last night we managed to get tickets to the Opera House for a New Year’s Eve gala. The show included snippets from various ballets and operas on this year’s schedule, presented in full costume, with sets and full orchestra. I enjoyed the show, but Alla probably enjoyed more of it since she took a little nap before we went out and I was running on guts alone.

From Drop Box

Alla was really excited to have a little bottle of Sovietsky champagne, which she thought was quite good. (I toasted the new year with grape juice, which wasn’t so exciting,.) I think the former USSR may be the only place left where the French haven’t succeeded in protecting the name Champagne, and for me this whole business is a bit of a joke.

We slept in this morning, which wasn’t hard because the sun didn’t really begin to shine until… well, I don’t really know because I was still asleep. By mid afternoon we were pretty well unpacked and feeling more at home, and I wanted to go out for a walk before the sun set. Suddenly I realized that it was getting dark around 3:00 and I managed to get out of the house by 3:30, when there was still enough light to take some photos of kids sledding in the park two doors away from us.

From Drop Box

I walked all around the park and explored a familiar place dressed in its white winter coat. I enjoyed the music playing quietly from the speakers near the “attractions.” (Ferris wheel, roller coaster and other rides.) I had imagined that the outdoor music would be only for warm weather, but I was wrong and indeed there were lots of people out to enjoy the park with me.

One other surprise is that the public restroom was even open in the next park over, and manned by a very sweet maintenance lady who let me pee for half price because I didn’t have small bills and she didn’t have change.

About this time, it was really dark and I decided to go home. But I didn’t get far before I got really excited to notice that buildings on either side of the river were lit by colored lights and that I could also see the colored lights over the city’s main boulevard. That’s when I decided that the city was magical, and I called Alla to ask her to but her boots on because I really wanted to take her out for a walk.

We repeated together the best parts of my earlier walk, and then we went over to October Square, where they had made a giant ice rink by outlining most of the plaza with a berm of snow and then filling the enclosure with water. A huge Christmas tree anchors the rink in the middle and I enjoyed the Belarusian sense of community I had feared might have been limited to warm weather.

I’m really glad to be here.

Melting

Minsk is a lot warmer than I expected. (Around freezing.) We spent most of the day running errands, and I went out wearing my shearling coat. I’m glad I’d been smart enough to leave my fur hat at home because I was too warm anyway. Moreover, I had too much stuff in my backpack because I wanted to have my computer with me in case I had time to sit down someplace with an internet connection. Wearing that on top of my zillion-pound coat, I was feeling pretty overloaded by the end of the afternoon.

There’s about six inches of snow on the ground everywhere except the streets and sidewalks, which are scrupulously clean. My favorite thing about the snow removal job is that they don’t use salt here, so one can wear nice shoes without destroying them. Amerikanetz, I am wearing rubber boots at least until we retrieve my dress shoes from Gomel.

We had a little excitement along the way. Alla’s favorite was the time I lost her at the airport. She had preceded me as we went through the “nothing to declare” lane at customs. When the inspector saw that she intended to stay for six months, he waved her into the baggage-inspection queue. I walked up behind her, waited in line for a moment, and then realized that nobody had told me to wait there. I asked the agent if I should wait there too. He asked me my nationality, and when I told him I was American, he allowed me to leave immediately. (Belarusians generally take pains to show me that they hold no antagonism toward Americans even though our governments aren’t highly pleased with each other.) Alla tried to weasel out of the line too, showing her American passport, but she was already busted because she showed her Russian passport first and he made her wait.

When I walked out, I saw our driver’s car at the end of the walkway from the main door, so I went out and found him near the car. We loaded my stuff and got into the car to wait for Alla. No Alla. Alexander and I talked and talked, until nobody was walking out of the airport any longer. Puzzled, I went back to see what the customs guys were doing to Alla. There she was, right inside the door, stewing over the fact that I had disappeared. She imagined first that I had gone to the restroom, and then that I had been abducted for questioning by officials somewhere. She even had me paged. After all that, I’m not sure she was actually glad to see me when I came walking back in through the front door.

Her frustrations were compounded by the fact that my phone wasn’t working and she somehow couldn’t manage to phone Alexander either. My phone was our main mission for the evening, because my prepaid SIM card had been canceled and the company had unassigned my phone number. First indications were that the number had been reassigned to somebody else, but when we got to the central office they discovered that it was still in the free-number pool and they retrieved it for me. For bureaucratic reasons this was a bit tricky, but Alla insisted and the woman at the phone company took what she felt was a small liberty to help us out.

Amazing "fashion"

I took these pictures at a fancy women's clothing store in Harvard Square. I don't think I really need to say anything, because the signs in the windows parody the clothing perfectly.

From Drop Box

From Drop Box