Enough lurking and commenting on the reports of others. I think I've finally ready to break into this wonderful world of travel pornography that we call "trip reports." I'd list those whose greatness has compelled me to act, but I neither want to leave anyone out nor subject those I mention to the collective groans of the masses for spawning a failed imitation of said greatness.
So, without further hesitation...now this is going to happen.
BACKGROUND
I work for the government. In New Jersey.
We've all dealt with the government and its bureaucratic joys throughout our lives. You may have had issues with someone's incompetence at the DMV. Or while trying to claim some sort of unemployment/disability benefits. Or the TSA. You may have departed from that interaction feeling a mixute of shock and awe; shock that those employees with whom you were forced to deal made it past childhood, and awe that they have no awareness that their continued existence is either a statistical anomaly or a sad indictment of mankind's elimination of natural selection.
Maybe that's too harsh of an assessment, but I'll provide just one (of many) examples. My clerk (government speak for secretary) gave me a written telephone message one day, not long before this trip. It had the call back number, and the person's first name as "Kark." Not having heard of this name before, I went to confirm the name with my clerk. She agreed that it was an odd name, but assured me he had firmly told her that his name was "Mark with a K."
The point is, in order to keep my sanity when stuck in the purgatory of government work...I travel. I travel as much as possible. And there are times when I just need to GO.
In February, 2012 I needed a "GO" trip.
PLANNING
These were the wonderful days when US still had their winter saver Envoy awards to Europe for only 60,000. And, as long as you avoiding their new C product on the A332, you get find some decent availability. I eventually found, and settled on, a main routing of PHL-CLT-LGW-CLT-PHL, with a plan to tinker with where I could get from there that was interesting. And not England. I settled on Prague.
I must add at this point that I am 31, not married, no signifcant other, no kids, and generally answer to no one and try to have as little responsibility as possible. (Perfect for government work!) So my trip planning decisions are usually the result of my hammering away on this site, amongst others, and just going with the flow until I find something which seems like a good idea.
So, yeah, Prague. Now to get to Prague from LGW there were a few options, BA, U2, other connections. But being a good FTer, I went the path less travelled and picked B2. Belavia. Through Minsk. With an overnight, because why not? And C was only $500+ one way, so naturally that was the financial "splurge" flight of the trip. After booking I was actually requested to scan and send pictures of my passport and my credit card. Disconcerting but, after blocking out anything of use, I obliged and was ticketed.
Now, Belarus is not the most friendly country in the world to be a tourist. Visa fees at the time were not cheap, $100+ at the embassy/consulate in the States for a US passport, triple if you decided to get it on arrival at MSQ. Very extensive questions on the visa, photos required, most of us know the drill. But, like we all would have done, I used my own little loophole, one which was created by the exploitation by my grandfather of a different loophole back in 1986.
You see, Irish citizenship laws were much less stringent at that time. If you could prove your grandparent was either born in Ireland or was a citizen from birth, head to the consulate, sign a ledger, and YOU were a citizen from birth. That was changed in late 1986 to citizenship which was not retroactive and thus left the possiblity for the line of citizenship to be broken. So one winter day when I was 4, my grandfather, whose mother was born in Kiltimagh, County Mayo dragged my mother and I to the consulate in NY. He signed, BAM, citzen from birth. My mother, BAM, citizen from birth. I (probably was given a crayon and drew a dragon of the ledger), BAM, citizen from birth.
And guess who Belarus doesn't hate and allows 30 euro transit visas on arrival? The Irish. Thus, visa documents completed and two passport photos in hand, entry was solved.
Hotels in Minsk didn't seem to be the cheapest, if you wanted a central location, but I settled on the
Hotel Minsk. $180ish/night, with a $25 airport transfer option which I also booked to ease my arrival. While I took one year of Russian in college, I didn't expect it to be of much use past the basics and deciphering the Cyrillic alphabet and didn't want to find myself struggling to tell the cab driver where to take me. Because if I said, "Hotel Minsk, ty znayesh?" I might be taken to A hotel IN Minsk, not the Hotel Minsk.
Then, of course, four nights in Prague, return to LGW on a direct U2 flight, overnight at the Yotel, and back across the following day. But this report is all about Minsk. Twice.