A Few Bizarre Days in Minsk, Belarus Meeting New Friends-Communicating Only Through Vodka-and Exploring the Freezing City in November

Three Days in Belarus: A Glimpse into an Authoritarian State

November 2006: As part of a larger journey through Iran, Moscow, and Rajasthan, India, I spent three days in Belarus, traveling en route from Iran to India. I had long been curious about Belarus—a country that still clings to many aspects of its Soviet past under the longstanding dictatorship of Alexander Lukashenko. I wanted to witness firsthand what life was like inside this authoritarian state.

What I found was a complex reality. Despite the government’s iron grip, the people of Belarus were no different from those in any Western country—they desired democracy and a better future. Most had lived under the Soviet Union and, after independence, found themselves trapped under yet another autocratic regime. While estimates of support for Lukashenko varied wildly, ranging from 3% to 30%, the general sentiment I encountered was disillusionment and quiet resilience.

I flew into Minsk, Belarus’s capital, determined to meet its people and see for myself what life was like in a modern-day dictatorship. This is the story of my time there.

Belarus: A Soviet Relic in the Heart of Europe

Belarus is a landlocked, forested nation in Northeastern Europe, home to a small population of Belarusian-speaking people, a language closely related to Russian. Though Belarus gained independence from the Soviet Union in 1991, remnants of its Soviet past remain deeply embedded in its identity. Soviet-era symbols and architecture still dominate the country, and even its security service retains its old Soviet name: the KGB.

Since 1994, Belarus has been ruled by Alexander Lukashenko, a self-declared “last dictator of Europe.” Known for his bellicose speeches and erratic leadership, Lukashenko governs with an iron grip, ensuring that political opposition is crushed through imprisonment, torture, or worse.

One of his most infamous acts occurred in 2021, when he orchestrated a fake bomb plot on a Ryanair flight traveling from Greece to Latvia—forcing the plane to land in Minsk so that he could arrest two opposition figures. His defiance of Western Europe and the United States has resulted in ongoing economic sanctions, yet he has managed to cling to power with the unwavering support of Russia.

Despite repeated uprisings and protests, the Belarusian people’s efforts to overthrow Lukashenko and restore democracy have been repeatedly suppressed—a stark reminder of the challenges faced by those who resist authoritarian rule.

Location of Minsk

Navigating Russian Transit Visa Issues: A Near Travel Disaster

My journey to Belarus via Moscow from Iran was almost derailed by unexpected visa complications. My original itinerary included three layovers in Moscow:

1. LAX to Iran via Moscow – No Russian visa needed since I was transiting internationally.
2. Iran to Belarus via Moscow – Also no visa required, or so I thought, as I would remain within the airport.
3. Belarus to India via Moscow – This layover was long, so I applied for and received a Russian transit visa to explore the city.

However, a week before departure, I discovered that transiting from Iran to Belarus was classified as a “domestic” transit by Russian immigration, meaning I did need a transit visa—and without one, I wouldn’t be allowed to depart Iran for Moscow.

Bribery in Moscow Airport? No Thanks

I had no time to apply for a visa before leaving the U.S., so my only options were:

1. Bribe an immigration official in Moscow
2. Try to obtain a Russian transit visa in Iran

During my first layover in Moscow, I went to an airport immigration office and explained my situation to a commanding officer. His response was casual:

“No problem. When you enter Moscow, just ask for me, and for a few hundred dollars, I can provide entry.”

He insisted I pay in advance, but the whole situation felt like a scam. I thanked him and walked away with no intention of following through.

Saved by a Soviet-Era Russian Consulate in Iran

With my trip hanging by a thread, I decided to visit the Russian consulate in Esfahan, Iran. To my surprise, the Russian diplomats there were curious rather than bureaucratic, likely because seeing an American tourist in Iran was a rare event. They were more than happy to help—and even invited me in for tea before issuing my visa in just a few hours.

The Soviet-era atmosphere of the consulate was surreal, with busts of Lenin and old Soviet insignia scattered throughout. But despite the setting, the officials were friendly and efficient, saving my trip from a complete disaster.

A Near Detour to Siberia: My Chaotic Moscow Layover

After flying all night from Iran to Moscow, I arrived exhausted to an airport in chaos. My layover was short, and I had to navigate between different terminals with Cyrillic-only signage, struggling to find anyone who spoke English.

Eventually, I found a gate where an Aeroflot agent told me my flight to Minsk would depart. The area was a crowded mix of passengers, most wearing thick winter jackets, as Moscow in winter is brutally cold.

When my flight was called, an agent checked my ticket and admitted me onto the airport bus. Upon boarding the plane, a flight attendant also glanced at my ticket, nodded, and let me take my seat. As I settled in, I started observing the passengers around me. Something felt off—most people looked more Asiatic than Belarusian, who I knew to be blond, blue-eyed, and fair-skinned.

Feeling uneasy, I showed my ticket to a fellow passenger. Their reaction was immediate:

“Niet, niet! Omsk, Omsk!”

I had mistakenly boarded a flight to Omsk, Siberia, instead of Minsk!

Panic set in as I frantically showed my ticket to a flight attendant, who repeated the same “Niet, niet!” and escorted me off the plane. For twenty minutes, I stood alone on the freezing tarmac, watching the plane take off, knowing I had narrowly avoided an unplanned trip to Siberia.

Eventually, a small minibus arrived and picked me up, delivering me to the correct flight to Minsk.

Looking back, I realize I wouldn’t have minded ending up in Siberia in winter. Either way, it would have been an adventure.

A Soviet-Era Welcome: Entering Belarus

Although my ticket was booked under Aeroflot, my actual flight to Minsk was on Belavia, Belarus’ national airline. The plane felt like a relic from the Soviet era—with a tired, 1970s-style interior. The overhead compartments wouldn’t stay closed, so the flight attendants left them hanging open for the entire flight.

As soon as we landed, I felt like I had stepped back in time. The immigration hall was dimly lit and intimidating, with border officials clad in military-style uniforms and wide-brimmed “pizza hats”.

The Belarus Visa on Arrival: A Shady Process

Since I was an American, I needed:
✔ A local sponsor (which I had arranged in advance)
✔ A visa support letter (delivered to the airport before my arrival)
✔ A pre-approved hotel booking

With my documents in order, I headed to the visa-on-arrival line. I was the only passenger needing a visa, and an immigration officer approached me:

“Follow me to pay.”

I expected corruption, but I had no choice—I had to cooperate, stay polite, and play by their rules.

Instead of paying at the immigration desk, the officer led me out of the airport, across the street, and into a dark, dusty old building. Inside, I was sat down in a dimly lit room, facing two border officials with bad vibes.

They instructed me to hand over the visa fee. I had prepared exact change, hoping to avoid unnecessary scrutiny. But when I handed them a bill, they examined it and said:

“Niet. Too old.”

I offered another bill—again, “Niet.”

Another— “Niet.”

At this point, I was down to my last bill, ironically the most frayed and worn-out of them all. This one, they accepted.

The scheme was obvious—they had forced me to dig into my money under their watchful eyes, likely looking for a larger denomination they could claim as their own.

I received my entrance stamp, but I’m certain the whole process was a cash grab, designed to funnel visa fees directly into their pockets—outside the view of other airport officials who would want their cut.

With my passport stamped and a lesson in Belarusian bureaucracy behind me, I was finally free to enter Minsk.

Arrival in Minsk: A City Frozen in Time

My Belarusian driver, from the agency that sponsored my visa, was patiently waiting for me in the airport parking lot. He drove me 30 minutes into Minsk to my hotel—the Soviet-era Orbita Hotel.

During the drive, he pointed out landmarks, giving me a fascinating—if slightly eerie—introduction to the city:

✔ The apartment where Lee Harvey Oswald lived before assassinating JFK. Some believe he was a Soviet-trained agent.
✔ Mass burial sites from World War II, where thousands of Jewish people were executed by the Nazis.
✔ Communist monuments and brutalist Stalinist architecture, remnants of Belarus’ deep Soviet past.

A Soviet Relic in Modern Times

Since much of Minsk was destroyed in World War II, most of the city was rebuilt during the Soviet era. The skyline was dominated by high-rise communist bloc apartments, complete with small kiosks and eateries at their base—providing basic necessities for residents.

One thing was striking: there were no Western corporate brands or businesses in sight. Unlike the rest of Europe, Belarus felt isolated, trapped in a different time—one where Lenin’s ghost still loomed over the streets.

Typical Soviet era apartment complex

Staying at the Orbita Hotel: A Soviet Time Capsule

Whenever I travel to Eastern Europe, I prefer staying in Soviet-era hotels. Sure, they lack modern amenities, but they are historical, eerie, and culturally immersive—offering a glimpse into a bygone world of Cold War relics and communist grandeur.

The Orbita Hotel in Minsk was no exception.

✔ Monstrous and depressing from the outside, a brutalist behemoth looming over the city.
✔ The interior was no different—stark, functional, and devoid of warmth.
✔ My room was spartan—basic furnishings, dim lighting, and a lingering sense of history.

Despite its austere appearance, there was one surprising highlight—the front desk staff.

✔ Young, friendly women who spoke excellent English—a rarity in Belarus.
✔ They became my lifeline, helping me navigate the city, since most locals didn’t speak a word of English.

The Orbita may not have been luxurious, but it was exactly the kind of immersive experience I was looking for.

Orbita Hotel

Soviet murals in the Metro

Passing the KGB Headquarters: A Glimpse into Soviet-Era Fear

As I wandered through downtown Minsk, I passed by the ominous KGB headquarters, a massive Soviet-era building that still functions as the state security agency.

✔ Unlike other former Soviet republics, Belarus has never rebranded or dissolved the KGB—a testament to its authoritarian rule and lingering Cold War mentality.
✔ The mere act of photographing the building was discouraged, with multiple warnings from locals and online forums stating that undercover security officers might detain anyone acting suspiciously.
✔ Despite the risk, I couldn’t resist. When the street was clear and no one seemed to be watching, I quickly snapped a photo and walked away without looking back.

It was a chilling reminder that in Belarus, the past still looms heavily over the present.

KGB Headquarters

A Late-Night Soviet Hotel Adventure

After a day of exploring Minsk’s eerily quiet streets, I returned to my Soviet-era hotel, the Orbita, ready to call it a night. Little did I know, my real adventure was just about to begin.

Finding food in Minsk was harder than expected. Aside from an overcrowded McDonald’s, most restaurants were either closed or non-existent.

I wandered through desolate Soviet apartment blocks in the freezing November night, eventually stumbling upon a small, hidden pizza shop tucked inside one of the neighborhoods.

Exhausted, I returned to the Orbita, expecting a quiet night. But Soviet hotels have a way of surprising you…

What happened next would prove to be the strangest part of my Belarusian experience.

A Night of Vodka, High-Stakes Gambling, and a Hidden Brothel in Belarus

While sitting in my drab little hotel room, I decided to wander the halls of the massive building, curious about what else it had to offer. As I passed the front desk, I stopped to chat—as I always did—with the pretty, giggly Belarussian receptionists who spoke surprisingly good English.

Then, I found myself in a dimly lit bar, where a raucous group of heavyset, mafia-looking Belarussian men were pounding vodka shots at a nearby table. The moment I ordered a beer, they turned to me instantly and invited me over for shots.

Drinking with the “Mafia”

As was often the case, we could barely communicate, but with a mix of occasional English words, gestures, and sheer determination, we somehow managed. The men ordered meat and vodka, and soon, we were downing shots one after another, the room beginning to spin.

They wouldn’t let me pay—instead, they flashed wads of cash, pulling out USD and Belarusian rubles in an over-the-top display of wealth. Then, they urged me to follow them upstairs to the casino.

A Backpacker Amongst High Rollers

The moment I stepped into the casino, I knew I didn’t belong. Dressed in my REI backpacker clothes and hiking boots, I stuck out like a sore thumb among well-dressed men in suits, gold chains, and polished shoes.

The security guards at the door glanced at me suspiciously, but my new drinking buddies were clearly VIPs, and I was waved through without a second thought.

We sat down at a card table, where more vodka was ordered. The game looked like blackjack, but it wasn’t—and since no one spoke English, I had no idea how to play. Then, one of the men, who had just lost a round and looked visibly frustrated, suddenly turned to me.

Deciding I might bring him luck, he bought hundreds of dollars’ worth of chips and placed them in front of me, insisting I gamble with his money.

With no clue what I was doing, I blindly played the hand—and promptly lost all of his money.

I braced for a reaction, worried how these intimidating men might take my failure.

Then, suddenly, the entire group burst into deep, belly laughter, as if my loss was the best thing they had seen all night.

Not discouraged, my “sponsor” doubled down, slapping another few hundred dollars in chips in front of me and urging me to try again.

This bizarre ritual repeated several more times—each time, I lost all of his money, and each time, the men roared with laughter, seemingly more entertained by my cluelessness than by winning.

A Seductive Detour: The Hidden Brothel

At some point, I couldn’t take any more vodka and decided to sneak away while the men were too drunk to notice.

As I stumbled down a dark flight of stairs, I noticed a glowing red light and the deep thump of Russian techno music. Curiosity got the best of me—I stepped inside.

What I walked into felt like the hidden floor of the Hotel California.

A group of stunning Belarussian women—angelic blonde hair, piercing blue eyes—were dancing alone in the club. The moment they saw me, they all turned toward me at once, swarming in my direction.

I instantly knew: this was a brothel.

Their approach was hypnotic, seductive, and incredibly well-practiced. Unlike the Belarussian men from earlier, they spoke perfect English—likely from years of working in Western Europe’s sex industry.

Each one tried to lure me into purchasing their services, their words dripping with charm and temptation.

But I had no money, and frankly, even if I had, I was still too drunk to function. I somehow managed to slip away, stumbling back to my tiny hotel room, still spinning from the vodka binge.

The Price of a Wild Night: A Cancelled Trip to Brest

I had planned to leave early the next morning for a day trip to Brest, to see the European bison in Belavezhskaya Pushcha National Park.

Instead, I vomited all night, utterly destroyed by vodka, and spent the next day curled up in bed, battling a brutal hangover.

In the end, I missed the bison, but gained an unforgettable, chaotic night in Belarus—one of those travel experiences you never plan but never forget.

Shaking Off the Hangover: A Countryside Escape in Belarus

Around noon, I finally dragged myself out of bed, still feeling the effects of the previous night’s vodka-fueled chaos. Overcome with guilt for wasting my time in Belarus, I went down to the front desk, where the ever-friendly Belarussian receptionists helped me book a taxi to explore the Minsk countryside.

Through Wooden Villages to Dudutki

Soon, I was on the road, passing through small wooden villages, getting a glimpse of traditional rural life in Belarus. Though my driver was only supposed to transport me, he quickly took on the role of an unofficial guide, enthusiastically joining me on my visit to the Dudutki Open-Air Cultural Museum.

More Vodka—Of Course

As we wandered through the museum’s exhibits, he did his best to translate, making sure I understood the history and traditions on display. Then, as if my body hadn’t endured enough vodka poisoning, he insisted we try more vodka together—because, of course, no cultural experience in Belarus would be complete without another round of shots.

Despite my ruined morning, the day turned out to be a refreshing glimpse into the slower, more traditional side of Belarus—a welcome contrast to the wild excess of the night before.

Countryside of Minsk

Typical countryside scene outside of Minsk

Typical countryside scene outside of Minsk

Village house  outside of Minsk

My driver at the Dudutki open air cultral museum

Me in an old fashioned buggy at the Dudutki open air cultral museum

A Final Night in Minsk and the Journey Ahead

I spent one last low-key night in Minsk, giving my body a much-needed break from vodka-fueled adventures. The next morning, I departed for Moscow, where I had an entire day to explore the city before catching my flight to Rajasthan, India—a destination that would bring an entirely different kind of experience and climate.

From the frosty streets of Belarus to the bustling, sun-soaked landscapes of India, my journey was about to take a dramatic turn.