This should be pretty easy. So easy that I break my usual tradition of getting up at the crack of dawn to catch the morning traffic, and I lazily make my way to the first hitch spot for around midday. I’ve a nice big MINSK sign, added to that a little drawing of two hockey sticks. With the Ice Hockey World Cup in full swing, I’ve managed to get a visa access to Belarus by purchasing a ticket. 80 quid for a visa, or 20 quid for a quarter finals seat and free entry for the whole of May. Boom. Winning.
I’m picked up in minutes by a Belarussian family who can’t speak English but can take me to the border. A short drive later and I’m leaving Europe behind and peaking behind the iron curtain. Although communism is long since dead, the evidence and effects are still in place, and approaching the Belarussian border, it’s clear from the comical guards hats that I’m not in Kansas anymore. The funny thing is, they’re all laughing at me; wandering through by foot with my Minsk sign. There’s a heart in mouth moment as I hand my documents over. The ticket didn’t print in colour, and I’ve bought it off a ticket tout website. I’m nervous as to see if this will actually work, and if I’ve got a fake brief. The pretty passport control officer makes a face and turns to her superior. My stomach drops. After a short conversation she shrugs her shoulders and reaches for the stamps. CLAMP! CLAMP! And I’m in! I’m through! Back in the USSR!! I walk on air across the frontier.
It’s another kilometre or so through all the truck stops and customs control points, but before long I’m in a great spot getting all the traffic I want. Across the other side, on the road out of Belarus, a back-up of hundreds of trucks trails for mile after mile. I thought it was harder getting in!
Within minutes a swanky ride pulls in, and I’ve hit the jack pot. Three Czechs heading to watch their team, with the back seats piled high with hats, scarfs and team regalia. They all speak English, and the car is simply the finest I’ve managed to hitch in. A top of the range Szkoda Superb, with more gadgets, gizmos and airbags than you can shake a stick at. The roof length sun window is a real treat in this weather too. We blaze into Minsk in style.
After a short time, it appears I’ve really lucked out. The trio are planning on visiting a beautiful national park near Brest, some 400K away, before traveling back to Minsk on Monday afternoon. Since they should have been a foursome, they have a couchsurf host in Minsk expecting one more. So the opportunity to see more of the country and stay for free is simply too tempting to refuse. It’s a no brainer. Added to the luxury of car tourism and stopping at sites along the way, it’s arguably the luckiest pick up I’ve ever managed. And so here you find me dear readers, in a hotel in the middle of a national park, in the middle of nowhere; Belarus! I’m being sung to sleep by the sounds of the forest, and freaked out by the flying beasties hitting my window. I wonder if these Czech dudes could take me to Ukraine?
Hitchhike to India leg 26; Vilnius to Minsk and beyond…
This should be pretty easy. So easy that I break my usual tradition of getting up at the crack of dawn to catch the morning traffic, and I lazily make my way to the first hitch spot for around midday. I’ve a nice big MINSK sign, added to that a little drawing of two hockey sticks. With the Ice Hockey World Cup in full swing, I’ve managed to get a visa access to Belarus by purchasing a ticket. 80 quid for a visa, or 20 quid for a quarter finals seat and free entry for the whole of May. Boom. Winning.
I’m picked up in minutes by a Belarussian family who can’t speak English but can take me to the border. A short drive later and I’m leaving Europe behind and peaking behind the iron curtain. Although communism is long since dead, the evidence and effects are still in place, and approaching the Belarussian border, it’s clear from the comical guards hats that I’m not in Kansas anymore. The funny thing is, they’re all laughing at me; wandering through by foot with my Minsk sign. There’s a heart in mouth moment as I hand my documents over. The ticket didn’t print in colour, and I’ve bought it off a ticket tout website. I’m nervous as to see if this will actually work, and if I’ve got a fake brief. The pretty passport control officer makes a face and turns to her superior. My stomach drops. After a short conversation she shrugs her shoulders and reaches for the stamps. CLAMP! CLAMP! And I’m in! I’m through! Back in the USSR!! I walk on air across the frontier.
It’s another kilometre or so through all the truck stops and customs control points, but before long I’m in a great spot getting all the traffic I want. Across the other side, on the road out of Belarus, a back-up of hundreds of trucks trails for mile after mile. I thought it was harder getting in!
Within minutes a swanky ride pulls in, and I’ve hit the jack pot. Three Czechs heading to watch their team, with the back seats piled high with hats, scarfs and team regalia. They all speak English, and the car is simply the finest I’ve managed to hitch in. A top of the range Szkoda Superb, with more gadgets, gizmos and airbags than you can shake a stick at. The roof length sun window is a real treat in this weather too. We blaze into Minsk in style.
After a short time, it appears I’ve really lucked out. The trio are planning on visiting a beautiful national park near Brest, some 400K away, before traveling back to Minsk on Monday afternoon. Since they should have been a foursome, they have a couchsurf host in Minsk expecting one more. So the opportunity to see more of the country and stay for free is simply too tempting to refuse. It’s a no brainer. Added to the luxury of car tourism and stopping at sites along the way, it’s arguably the luckiest pick up I’ve ever managed. And so here you find me dear readers, in a hotel in the middle of a national park, in the middle of nowhere; Belarus! I’m being sung to sleep by the sounds of the forest, and freaked out by the flying beasties hitting my window. I wonder if these Czech dudes could take me to Ukraine?