Thursday, June 25, 2020

Paddle, paddle, clap, clap, splash

On a lovely Saturday, I met a colleague and Shelby her pup for a morning walk by the river. We’d planned to try out the paddleboats, as both Colleague and Pup will (hopefully, for their sake) be leaving Minsk soon. There’s a bucket list of things to do, and paddleboating on the Svislach river is a must.

We met before the paddleboats opened, so I took the opportunity to film this Facebook post marking U.N. Public Service day. (That’s the Cathedral of the Holy Spirit’s bells ringing in the background.) I’d tried to film it the day before at home but had to rig up a backdrop and arrange the phone and wound up with what someone kindly described as a “hostage video,” so that got deleted.

That's her guilty face.
The Svislach River itself is wonderful and I am keeping up with the walks up and down various segments of it, but until Saturday I hadn’t gotten on it. We decided to get the four-seater “catamaran” so Shelby could have a place to sit ($6 for an hour), but she wound up mostly standing on the divider between the seats, which held the rudder control thing.

The part of the river we were on is the view on the way to work; there are a bunch of boring buildings on one side, slightly less boring buildings on another plus a domed concert venue of some sort, a place to go go-karting and the Isle of Tears.  You can also see a bit farther down to the Cathedral of the Holy Spirit, too.

The Isle of Tears is a peaceful little island that commemorates Soviet soldiers from Belarus who died in the war with Afghanistan between 1979 and 1989, and there are lot of ducks that call home.  We circled it about three times, and on the second, we were just relaxing and watching the ducks. There are lots of mama and baby ducks all over and they would swim up to us because people tend to feed them.

Shelby is a really good diplo-dog, and she is a good rider in the car. She was also really good in the boat, right up until she took a flying leap off after the ducks. She sunk, then rose to the top, quite bewildered, and her mom hauled her back in, laughing hysterically. Shelby kept shaking off and both humans just laughed and laughed. She was really wet and all three of us smelled like wet dog.  No duck feathers were ruffled whatsoever. She didn’t even get close to them.

In other news, the Belarusian elections are scheduled for August 9, and there’s all kinds of stuff leading up to them. The president has been in power for 26 years and there’s a growing sentiment that it’s time for a change. Meanwhile, the president’s opponents are winding up being detained by law enforcement officials for what many deem false charges.

One of the prime opponents, along with his son, was detained by the KGB (it’s still called that here) on Thursday. That night, as I was watching “The Hunger Games,” I thought I heard people clapping and horns honking, but not constantly.

  

   
Euronews photo: https://www.euronews.com/2020/06/19/top-challenger-in-belarusian-presidential-race-detained


That evening, I’d gone out for a walk and got caught by a massive rainstorm when I was three blocks from home. I got home, shed all my clothes and took a shower, then grabbed dinner, so it was maybe around 7:30 p.m. when I put the movie in.

By the time Kato was being attacked my mutts, there was something going on. Keeping in mind this is two days short of the longest day of the year, it was still light out after 9 p.m. I looked out of my front window and saw/heard cars blaring their horns as they drove down the road in front of my apartment building. It’s Independence Avenue, and it’s a long, straight road, and there were people lined up on either side. Now and then, they would start clapping.

To me, horns blaring and people clapping signals a Florida State win, but that’s not what was happening here. These are straight-up protests. That’s right, clapping is form of protest in Belarus. In 2011, the president decreed that you can only clap in public for war veterans, so people lining the streets and applauding is a peaceful but unlawful protest.

As we get close to the elections, law enforcement officials have busted out the riot gear and paddywagons and have started detaining people. This is not just happening in Minsk; there are reports coming out of other cities, too.

Thursday remains the biggest protest I’ve seen. It was livestreamed somewhere and apparently people who were watching it on TV came out to join the line, which stretched over two miles. I watched out the window until about 10 p.m. before going to bed, but I heard it went until 1 a.m.

The following evening, like on many Friday nights, I met my colleague for dinner, and we went to a place right downstairs from my apartment. (I have fantastic restaurant choices!) Even just from the outside seating at the restaurant, we could see people walking up and down the street and applauding. There weren’t as many cars honking, but there definitely were more than a few.

There are uniformed officers as well as plainclothes cops around, but I haven’t witnessed anything that seems too heavy-handed, though I’ve seen videos and heard about some.

It is likely that protests will continue leading up to the elections, and who knows what might happen after they are over. I’m not sure how elections are done here, like if there are more races than just the presidential race or what.

It is definitely an interesting time to be in Belarus.

Sunday, June 14, 2020

Landlocked but waterlogged



It’s the time of year I’ve been waiting for since I arrived in Minsk in late October. The weather, when it’s not crappy, is brilliant and the sun rises before well 5 a.m. and sets well after 9:30 p.m. (Thank God for blackout curtains.) Long spring days are lovely in Europe. It’s green and beautiful.

There’s a river meandering through Minsk, and I walk up and down it most days. Today’s walk was about 10 kilometers; since it’s Sunday, I had nowhere to be and just listened to podcast after podcast as I walked down one segment, turned around, and then walked back the other direction.

An aside on podcasts: Wow, these are great. I’ve just finished two series from the Washington Post’s Lillian Cunningham, Constitution and the Presidents. I haven’t found anything else intelligent to listen to so I am killing time with a Margaritaville podcast and listened to an hour-long interview with Mr. Utley of the Coral Reefers today.

Through that podcast, I learned that Jimmy Buffett does a European tour and I looked up tour dates on the off-chance he was planning a show in Minsk. (Don’t laugh; Sting is coming in October, or at least is scheduled to come in October.) JB doesn’t have Minsk on the docket, but apparently does shows in Dublin, London and Paris. The ones for 2020 have been pushed back to 2021.

My thought on that was, “Hey, I’ll be in Minsk in September 2021. Why not go see JB?” And, because sometimes I money outweighs sense, I researched it and discovered that London’s original venue still had tickets available. (Since the shows were originally scheduled for 2020, they’ve already sold out and under no circumstances would I pay $400 to any third-party vendor for a single show.) I now have three tickets, plans for September 2021 and a hefty credit card bill.

Meanwhile, back in Minsk, I’m still walking daily, which is keeping me sane. I love water and Belarus is a landlocked country, so there’s no heading to the beach or anything like that for me. However, in my walks both along the river and through town, I have come to realize that, despite its landlocked status, there is a vast amount of water around.

Looking out my window one day, I realized that the little park that runs down my street has fountains. I didn’t know this before because during winter, they shut off the water. (Plus, I am not all that observant.) Now that it’s spring, all of a sudden, there are fountains everywhere. Things I thought were just art have water spraying out of them.

None of the water turns on until 10 a.m., though, which saves me to some degree. At one point in my walk, just past Gorky Park, there is a fountain that doubles as a splashpad. Right now, during the pandemic (52k cases and counting) there are throngs of kids playing every day around 6 p.m. The parents usually lie out on beach towels nearby, so when I hit that point in the walk on weekdays I circle as wide as I can, since my weekday walk happens after work. On weekends, I set out early and there’s no one around. Well, barely anyone. This morning I noticed two middle-aged men there, one watching the other play in the water. It was a bit odd because it wasn’t hot, but I’m tempted sometimes so I won’t throw stones.