I'm off to Minsk tomorrow. I'll be spending the month of October learning Russian at the Minsk State Linguistic University. I'm very excited about all this, and I have just one reservation. How nice can the dormitory be if I'm paying US$ 20 for a month of lodgings? Most of my friends are guessing that I'll be alarmed when I see the place and that I'll end up staying somewhere else. That's probably a good idea, but it's really hard to forgo the opportunity to stay in a place that costs $20/month. The next step up has got to be far more expensive, and I probably wouldn't want to stay in the next step up anyway.
Alla's identified a little apartment I can rent, and she's already been in contact with the landlord. I'm not saying how much it would cost. Let's just say that it's more than I'm willing to carry in my pocket.
I'll let you know soon.
Monday, September 29, 2008
Tuesday, May 27, 2008
Photos from Belarus
For photos taken during this trip to Belarus, visit
http://picasaweb.google.com/sjvincent.com/BelarusSpring2008
http://picasaweb.google.com/sjvincent.com/BelarusSpring2008
Tuesday, May 20, 2008
Palace of the Republic
Just down the street from our hotel is a huge gray box of a building on a vast open square. It's called the Palace of the Republic, and it's so severe Alla just knew it had to be great. It turns out that we were in the right place at the right time, because there would be a ballet there last night. Sorry: I already forgot the name of the ballet.
As the afternoon closed we realized that we were free to attend the ballet and we went to the box office and got a pair of excellent seats for $20. I went home and did my best to dress up and reported back for entry. Wow, what a spectacular interior! The place sparkles with light, air and exuberance. The lobby has sweeping staircases with imposing views of the spacious interior and the city. There are cozy seating areas sprinkled throughout the lobby and stairway areas, and also a temporary display of heavy equipment. I enjoyed the heavy equipment models, particularly the giant earth-moving trucks designed for open-pit mining. I have no idea how they can get a ten-meter-wide truck TO the mine, but understand that it can move a heck of a lot of dirt once it's on site.
We were just as impressed by the inside of the palace as we were by the lobby. The seats are large and comfortable with plenty of knee room. The floor slopes steeply enough that I think everybody had a pretty good view regardless of what tall people sat in front of them.
The ballet dancers didn't live up to the costumes and the music, but in any event the performance was plenty beautiful. We could hardly believe the gorgeous costumes and the fantastic set, testaments once again to the Belarusian tradition of craftsmanship. I thought the pit orchestra surpassed almost any pit orchestra I've heard in Boston, generally by a wide margin.
Among the announcements at intermission they invited us to check out the restaurant in the basement of this palace. Since it was our last night in town, we figured we'd splurge and go for it. The prices on the menu shocked us a bit, but the shock was pleasant. Our dinner cost less than the lunch we had down the street, though it included far more food, more courses, much better flavor and an extremely serene environment. Alla was particularly excited to drink a glass of Georgian wine for $4. The wine she chose was Stalin's favorite, and she hadn't tasted it in about 24 years because Russia has an embargo on Georgian products.
The waitress warned us that we'd find different music if we came on a Friday or Saturday evening, but we'd certainly come back on a weeknight.
We're hading home in another hour. I look forward to greeting my bicycle and numerous people, but I'm definitely looking forward to coming back here too.
As the afternoon closed we realized that we were free to attend the ballet and we went to the box office and got a pair of excellent seats for $20. I went home and did my best to dress up and reported back for entry. Wow, what a spectacular interior! The place sparkles with light, air and exuberance. The lobby has sweeping staircases with imposing views of the spacious interior and the city. There are cozy seating areas sprinkled throughout the lobby and stairway areas, and also a temporary display of heavy equipment. I enjoyed the heavy equipment models, particularly the giant earth-moving trucks designed for open-pit mining. I have no idea how they can get a ten-meter-wide truck TO the mine, but understand that it can move a heck of a lot of dirt once it's on site.
We were just as impressed by the inside of the palace as we were by the lobby. The seats are large and comfortable with plenty of knee room. The floor slopes steeply enough that I think everybody had a pretty good view regardless of what tall people sat in front of them.
The ballet dancers didn't live up to the costumes and the music, but in any event the performance was plenty beautiful. We could hardly believe the gorgeous costumes and the fantastic set, testaments once again to the Belarusian tradition of craftsmanship. I thought the pit orchestra surpassed almost any pit orchestra I've heard in Boston, generally by a wide margin.
Among the announcements at intermission they invited us to check out the restaurant in the basement of this palace. Since it was our last night in town, we figured we'd splurge and go for it. The prices on the menu shocked us a bit, but the shock was pleasant. Our dinner cost less than the lunch we had down the street, though it included far more food, more courses, much better flavor and an extremely serene environment. Alla was particularly excited to drink a glass of Georgian wine for $4. The wine she chose was Stalin's favorite, and she hadn't tasted it in about 24 years because Russia has an embargo on Georgian products.
The waitress warned us that we'd find different music if we came on a Friday or Saturday evening, but we'd certainly come back on a weeknight.
We're hading home in another hour. I look forward to greeting my bicycle and numerous people, but I'm definitely looking forward to coming back here too.
Sunday, May 18, 2008
Touring the Puscha
This morning Alla set out to make a final appeal to the director of the museum, the only authority she had been unable to reach yesterday. We stormed her office shortly after her 9 a.m. arrival. She was ready for us. She offered us a free excursion, leaving immediately. Accepting, we ran to our room to grab our camera. Alla also changed her clothes to be as dressed up as the guide.
When we came out, we discovered that a whole busload of people was waiting for us. The guide shooed the folks from the front row, installed us there, and set out for a tour.
At first I feared that we'd never be allowed outside the bus as we careened past several scenic stops with only a slight tap on the brakes. Finally we understood, when we got to Grandfather Frost's village. All the other passengers were employees and the bus driver was getting them to work late because of us.
After we dropped off the workers we enjoyed a much more leisurely tour all the way to the Polish border. On the way back, we stopped to visit Ded Moroz, a.k.a. Grandfather Frost, a.k.a. Santa Claus. [Aside to the curious: I checked my spelling of Ded Moroz by doing a Google search, which turns up a number of amusing results. Try it!]
The Ded Moroz village encapsulates a number of wonderful Belarusian traditions including architecture, wood carving, straw weaving, medieval costumes, and kitsch. Grandfather Frost himself wore a lavish costume and demonstrated a quick wit and a good heart. His village includes a wide enough variety of hand-made fairy-tale attractions to make this an increasingly popular destination. In the four years since it's been opened, they've had visitors from at least 70 different countries. A Japanese guy offered to buy Grandfather Frost's hat for $1,000 (or was it $10,000?) Grandather Frost quipped to his American visitors that if it had been Euros he might have been tempted.
The most striking thing to me about meeting this man is how clean he keeps his hands. No detail about this place distracted from the pleasure of a childish fantasy.
When we came out, we discovered that a whole busload of people was waiting for us. The guide shooed the folks from the front row, installed us there, and set out for a tour.
At first I feared that we'd never be allowed outside the bus as we careened past several scenic stops with only a slight tap on the brakes. Finally we understood, when we got to Grandfather Frost's village. All the other passengers were employees and the bus driver was getting them to work late because of us.
After we dropped off the workers we enjoyed a much more leisurely tour all the way to the Polish border. On the way back, we stopped to visit Ded Moroz, a.k.a. Grandfather Frost, a.k.a. Santa Claus. [Aside to the curious: I checked my spelling of Ded Moroz by doing a Google search, which turns up a number of amusing results. Try it!]
The Ded Moroz village encapsulates a number of wonderful Belarusian traditions including architecture, wood carving, straw weaving, medieval costumes, and kitsch. Grandfather Frost himself wore a lavish costume and demonstrated a quick wit and a good heart. His village includes a wide enough variety of hand-made fairy-tale attractions to make this an increasingly popular destination. In the four years since it's been opened, they've had visitors from at least 70 different countries. A Japanese guy offered to buy Grandfather Frost's hat for $1,000 (or was it $10,000?) Grandather Frost quipped to his American visitors that if it had been Euros he might have been tempted.
The most striking thing to me about meeting this man is how clean he keeps his hands. No detail about this place distracted from the pleasure of a childish fantasy.
Saturday, May 17, 2008
Stuff I forgot
I spent my last day in Gomel "out on the town." This was a pretty fun adventure for a guy with close to zero Russian language skills. My favorite thing was a private tour of the city's main library. The front desk staff managed to find me a semi-English-speaking guide from the foreign books department, and she showed me pretty nearly everything. As far as I can tell, all she held back were the book stacks, which are closed to the public.
During my explorations of Gomel I also noted a number of cultural differences largely attributable to the low price of labor here. One way it shows up is in home-made or custom-made equipment, such as the floor mop I saw in the restaurant where I ate lunch. The octagonal handle looked like it had been made from a board by pushing it several times lengthwise through a table saw. The cross piece at the end was a flat stick of wood about eighteen inches wide. The cleaning lady draped a rag over the cross piece and dragged it over the already-clean-looking floor.
Almost everything is clean around here. There are street sweepers, bathroom attendants and all manner of other wiper-uppers. I'm amazed, in this culture of cleanliness, that people still litter. Alla thinks it's because the cleanup campaign is only a few years old and it's hard to break old habits. Still, the cleanup staff is well able to keep things looking great almost everywhere.
During my explorations of Gomel I also noted a number of cultural differences largely attributable to the low price of labor here. One way it shows up is in home-made or custom-made equipment, such as the floor mop I saw in the restaurant where I ate lunch. The octagonal handle looked like it had been made from a board by pushing it several times lengthwise through a table saw. The cross piece at the end was a flat stick of wood about eighteen inches wide. The cleaning lady draped a rag over the cross piece and dragged it over the already-clean-looking floor.
Almost everything is clean around here. There are street sweepers, bathroom attendants and all manner of other wiper-uppers. I'm amazed, in this culture of cleanliness, that people still litter. Alla thinks it's because the cleanup campaign is only a few years old and it's hard to break old habits. Still, the cleanup staff is well able to keep things looking great almost everywhere.
Holodilnik
I woke up this morning to the sound of our train's wheels clattering over the joints in the tracks. The wheels said "Holodilnik, holodilnik, holodilnik..." In English, that would be "Refrigerator, refrigerator, refrigerator..." I was freezing. Belarusian trains are not heated after May 3, and the car took in too much of last night's frost for my single blanket to compensate. Alla told me in the morning that we probably could have requested extra blankets, but I got through the night by wrapping my head in a T-shirt.
I liked our train accommodations for the most part. Alla selected a second-class car in order to get two lower berths for us, and I really liked the openness of the car. I could see well out the windows on both sides of the train.
We rode from Gomel to Brest, where we caught a bus to an incredible forest called Belaverskaya Puscha. Our deluxe room has a huge bed, lots of light and a comfortable sitting room. All this is costing us about $50/night. The birds ourside our window are always chirping, chattering and singing; probably thrilled by spring's abundance of mosquitoes.
Aside from the mosquitoes, I have only praise for the environment here. I've had a few quibbles about service issues, but I'd definitely come back for another short visit, perhaps during cross-country ski season. I'd be happy to eat the food here any time.
My service quibbles started with the bikes. We intended to take a couple of their bikes and tour the forest roads, which are generally closed to cars. Unfortunately, while the resort owns a couple of bikes big enough for me, there were no bikes small enough for Alla to stand over the top tube. Failing to find bikes, we tried to arrange a bus tour or even a private motor tour. No dice. We ended up setting out on foot, which was beautiful and fun but we couldn't reach places we wanted to see in the time we had.
Alla tried relentlessly to arrange something for tomorrow, but received steadfast rebuffs to each of her efforts. The only way to guarantee an excursion here is to arrive as a member of a group.
I liked our train accommodations for the most part. Alla selected a second-class car in order to get two lower berths for us, and I really liked the openness of the car. I could see well out the windows on both sides of the train.
We rode from Gomel to Brest, where we caught a bus to an incredible forest called Belaverskaya Puscha. Our deluxe room has a huge bed, lots of light and a comfortable sitting room. All this is costing us about $50/night. The birds ourside our window are always chirping, chattering and singing; probably thrilled by spring's abundance of mosquitoes.
Aside from the mosquitoes, I have only praise for the environment here. I've had a few quibbles about service issues, but I'd definitely come back for another short visit, perhaps during cross-country ski season. I'd be happy to eat the food here any time.
My service quibbles started with the bikes. We intended to take a couple of their bikes and tour the forest roads, which are generally closed to cars. Unfortunately, while the resort owns a couple of bikes big enough for me, there were no bikes small enough for Alla to stand over the top tube. Failing to find bikes, we tried to arrange a bus tour or even a private motor tour. No dice. We ended up setting out on foot, which was beautiful and fun but we couldn't reach places we wanted to see in the time we had.
Alla tried relentlessly to arrange something for tomorrow, but received steadfast rebuffs to each of her efforts. The only way to guarantee an excursion here is to arrive as a member of a group.
Tuesday, May 13, 2008
Still in Gomel
I'm finally managing to find a few ways to entertain myself while Alla deals with her mom's stuff. A couple of days ago I set out for Vetka, a village not far from Gomel. Alla was very reluctant to let me go alone, and finally decided that since it was so important to me she'd take me there. It was easy to do, and I now have permission to take buses to other villages if I want to while she's tied up.
The trip to Vetka was interesting because it was listed as a yellow zone after Chernobyl and folks have the option of relocation from there if they are worried. I was cautious and kept my geiger counter on my lap all the way there. Amazingly enough, I got the lowest readings I've ever gotten, lower than at home, during much of the ride. Background radiation in Vetka was about what I'd experience in Boston. So far I haven't really found anything at all troubling with my geiger counter. The soil in the park near Alla's mom's place registered a tad higher than the air, but well below what folks in Denver experience all the time.
The main attraction in Vetka is a museum of handcraft, though I found the ride there sufficiently beautiful that I wouldn't have minded even if the museum were closed. We worried for a moment when we approached the museum because the biggest doors were locked, but once we found the public entrance we were in for a huge treat. They have icon art, wood carving, beautiful linen weavings in traditional patterns that have distinct meanings, beadwork, tools, all manner of samovars, a wonderful staff, and a useful bookstore. I loved it.
Today I got in a workout at a local gym. A one-entry membership cost just under $4.00. I was pleased to find a well equipped gym, and enjoyed the company of an aerobics class with nine very attractive women nearby. (For the statistically inclined, that was nine out of nine.) I hadn't brought a towel and the gym doesn't normally provide them. After I got really sweaty they took pity on me and gave me a clean sheet that must have been intended for their massage table and I used that to dry off after my shower.
I am always noticed around here. I don't look Russian, I wear the wrong clothes, and I speak the wrong language. Occasionally people make a point of telling me that they don't consider me an enemy, but at times "methinks thou dost protest too much." While I was waiting in line here at the Internet place I got another of those threatening protestations that I'm not an enemy. Fortunately, the guy's English was pretty good so I shook his hand and started a conversation. After half an hour of waiting together, he told me that he really does think I'm an OK guy and he's glad he met me.
The trip to Vetka was interesting because it was listed as a yellow zone after Chernobyl and folks have the option of relocation from there if they are worried. I was cautious and kept my geiger counter on my lap all the way there. Amazingly enough, I got the lowest readings I've ever gotten, lower than at home, during much of the ride. Background radiation in Vetka was about what I'd experience in Boston. So far I haven't really found anything at all troubling with my geiger counter. The soil in the park near Alla's mom's place registered a tad higher than the air, but well below what folks in Denver experience all the time.
The main attraction in Vetka is a museum of handcraft, though I found the ride there sufficiently beautiful that I wouldn't have minded even if the museum were closed. We worried for a moment when we approached the museum because the biggest doors were locked, but once we found the public entrance we were in for a huge treat. They have icon art, wood carving, beautiful linen weavings in traditional patterns that have distinct meanings, beadwork, tools, all manner of samovars, a wonderful staff, and a useful bookstore. I loved it.
Today I got in a workout at a local gym. A one-entry membership cost just under $4.00. I was pleased to find a well equipped gym, and enjoyed the company of an aerobics class with nine very attractive women nearby. (For the statistically inclined, that was nine out of nine.) I hadn't brought a towel and the gym doesn't normally provide them. After I got really sweaty they took pity on me and gave me a clean sheet that must have been intended for their massage table and I used that to dry off after my shower.
I am always noticed around here. I don't look Russian, I wear the wrong clothes, and I speak the wrong language. Occasionally people make a point of telling me that they don't consider me an enemy, but at times "methinks thou dost protest too much." While I was waiting in line here at the Internet place I got another of those threatening protestations that I'm not an enemy. Fortunately, the guy's English was pretty good so I shook his hand and started a conversation. After half an hour of waiting together, he told me that he really does think I'm an OK guy and he's glad he met me.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
Posts
