Long Live Belarus

Long Live Belarus

When we read a travel magazine we are taken to exotic locations, often near turquoise water with white sand, or to Alpine ski resorts that cater to the rich and famous. I think that sometimes, In this day and age of competition, we take for granted, the natural beauty of wheat field or undisturbed forest, the silence of agricultural village at dawn, or the smell of chimney smoke in the air at dinner time.  These may conjure up memories of old times, for some, but in one corner of Europe it is the way life goes on.  Welcome to Belarus.

I am not a sentimental person, by any means. And it takes a lot to move me, but for some reason, when I leave Belarus each time, I choke up a little. Perhaps I should start from the beginning.  My relationship with Belarus began in late 1996 when I received orders to the US Embassy as a Marine Guard.  From then on, Belarus has been a part of my life.  I lived there for 16 months, and married a wonderful woman, with whom I have two gorgeous daughters.  If you had told me at the age of twenty-one, that I’d be as connected to Belarus as I am, I’d have called a damned fool and walked away.

Sadly, what most people know of Belarus is what they read, hear from others or see what’s on the TV after a demonstration.  Politics seem to overshadow anyone’s positive impressions of any location.  This holds true in Belarus as well, but if you’re smart and can put the seriousness of the current situation behind you, I would encourage you to get out and enjoy the scenery. The people of Belarus are warm and giving and you’ll never leave a table hungry.

For the art lovers we have the birthplace of Marc Chagall, military historians would  be interested in seeing the birthplace of General Tadeusz Kościuszko, there’s something for everyone. Occupying the crossroads of the geographic center of Europe, Belarus is a door from east to west. Sharing its western and northern borders with the European Union nations of Poland, Lithuania and Latvia, and its southern and eastern borders with Ukraine and Russia,  Belarus could not be any more centric if it tried. When I visit, I often take short trips to nearby countries, and it’s as simple as buying a train of short plane ride. In a matter of minutes you can change between three languages, and hear at least three more from travelers coming from the far corners of the old Soviet Union.

I am often impressed by the amount of goods that I can buy when I visit Minsk. Fruits from and vegetables from Uzbekistan, wine from Georgia, fish from the Baltic Sea, caviar from Siberia, and to wash it all down, fresh beer from local Belarusian breweries. A trip to the local market, and parting with ten dollars and you and three friends can have a nice picnic in the forest. Hell, who needs a market? During the summer, the intersections of any road become small farmers markets, with villagers peddling fruits and veggies, fresh sour cream, and catch of the day from the nearest lake.

I’ve spent many hours sitting outside of my in-laws house, at a makeshift table, eating slow cooked meats, fish, and salads, while talking, arguing, laughing, crying, but never walking away upset. No rush, no problem, this is the mantra that I hear again and again, and that I wish I could replicate in my hectic life in the States. I’m often asked whether it’s worth it, to work each day from morning until night, to put your kids in a daycare, and to rush home to cook dinner, so that I can repeat the process the next day. I haven’t been able to answer that yet. I’m impressed, jealous actually, that I visit other countries and see people who have far less than I do, and even less opportunity, and they are more content and happier than I am, why? I hope that I find the answer some day. In the meantime, I have my respite in knowing that my version of heaven is only a day away by flight. I think I’ll call home now.