16/02: getting around Minsk
Minsk has an unimpressive looking but perfectly functional metro, with just two lines. There is usually about a four minute wait for trains in the daytime and maybe eight minutes in the evening. It is one of the signs of the locals' courtesy that the average Minskonian (actually, Minchunin singular, Minchunya plural, emphasis on second syllable in both cases) glances back when pushing through the glass doors to the outlying subway, so as not to let them slam into the face of the next person. Similarly, unlike many Russians, these are people who will stamp the snow off their shoes before entering public as well as private buildings. And they almost invariably help strangers who don't know where they are.
The dreaded maschrutka - a private minibus used as a cross between a public service bus and a rehearsal for cross-country rallying - is only seen in the centre of the city if it is due to service the outer suburbs or the outlying villages. In addition to the metro, the city is provided for by quite modern single-decker buses, trolleybuses and some trams. As I live within walking distance of my administrative office, I would probably save money by using cash when I need to, but paying a mere nine pounds for a month's unlimited travel on bus, trolley and metro is irresistable.
I'm lucky to be living just a couple of minutes walk from a metro. My street is Maxima Tanka. Now yes, I thought that Maxim Tank was some iconic war machine that I somehow hadn't heard of on World at War. In fact, Wikipedia tells me that Maxim Tank was the nom de plume of a Belarusian poet and translator.
Which reminds me: the Belarusianising of post-Soviet Minsk does make life difficult for the newcomer. Metro stations have Russian names on some maps and signs and Belarusian ones on more recent signs. The main street has been renamed completely. Originally named after the first Belarusian printer and one of the first publishers in eastern Europe, Francysk Skarina, it is now Independence Street. As is usual, most locals use the old name, making life more difficult.
More difficult for me however is the proliferation of keys required to get into my building, originally designed as a block of flats for the elite but now split up into one room flatlets. First there's the electronic key fob to get into the house. At the fourth floor (third in Britspeak, as they don't use the term ground floor), by lift or stairs, I then need to jiggle one key a lot to get into the residential area away from the staircase and lift. Then to my half of the area, I need another key. Then I need two keys to get into my own flat. Must sit down and have a cup of tea.
As will be noted from the photos, there is a fair amount of snow about. The first image is the river Nyemiga, near the city centre, iced up. The locals are used to about three weeks of cold weather, by the way, but this spell of several months is unusual in this country.
The dreaded maschrutka - a private minibus used as a cross between a public service bus and a rehearsal for cross-country rallying - is only seen in the centre of the city if it is due to service the outer suburbs or the outlying villages. In addition to the metro, the city is provided for by quite modern single-decker buses, trolleybuses and some trams. As I live within walking distance of my administrative office, I would probably save money by using cash when I need to, but paying a mere nine pounds for a month's unlimited travel on bus, trolley and metro is irresistable.
I'm lucky to be living just a couple of minutes walk from a metro. My street is Maxima Tanka. Now yes, I thought that Maxim Tank was some iconic war machine that I somehow hadn't heard of on World at War. In fact, Wikipedia tells me that Maxim Tank was the nom de plume of a Belarusian poet and translator.
Which reminds me: the Belarusianising of post-Soviet Minsk does make life difficult for the newcomer. Metro stations have Russian names on some maps and signs and Belarusian ones on more recent signs. The main street has been renamed completely. Originally named after the first Belarusian printer and one of the first publishers in eastern Europe, Francysk Skarina, it is now Independence Street. As is usual, most locals use the old name, making life more difficult.
More difficult for me however is the proliferation of keys required to get into my building, originally designed as a block of flats for the elite but now split up into one room flatlets. First there's the electronic key fob to get into the house. At the fourth floor (third in Britspeak, as they don't use the term ground floor), by lift or stairs, I then need to jiggle one key a lot to get into the residential area away from the staircase and lift. Then to my half of the area, I need another key. Then I need two keys to get into my own flat. Must sit down and have a cup of tea.
As will be noted from the photos, there is a fair amount of snow about. The first image is the river Nyemiga, near the city centre, iced up. The locals are used to about three weeks of cold weather, by the way, but this spell of several months is unusual in this country.