Thursday, 13 August 2026

 

Start: Terespol-Brest border (BY) 00:00

Arrival: Minsk (BY) 12:00

 

Total: 354 km

 

 

It's a strange feeling, being stuck in a line of cars on a bridge decorated in barbed wire over a pitch dark river in the night. But the Bug River had to be somewhere down there, seeing as it marked the border between Poland and Belarus. "There are trees next to the bridge", Sonia said, "we're almost across."

 

On the other side, the first part of the Belarussian border procedure awaited us. Getting a car insurance. Every insurance company in Luxembourg had refused to provide coverage for Belarus, claiming "sanctions". In 2019, we had simply driven through, fully covered. Now, we needed to organise an insurance before the border guards would even look at us. Helpfully, they had installed booths at the checkpoint, where tourists could purchase the needed documents. "Do you want to pay by card?" the friendly woman behind the counter asked. Unfortunately I couldn't, for the same reason that I needed an insurance in the first place. "Cash then." I also didn't have enough Belarussian money left over from last time. What to do?

 

The friendly woman grabbed her coat. "I'll go with you to the money exchange on the other side." So we walked past the guards to a large building that housed all sorts of admin and facilities. In no time, I obtained rubels for my dollars (the EU allows no euros to be taken over the border). Oddly, the US has no such qualms about the export of dollars.

 

After the walk over, Elena and I were on first name basis. I had told her about our travel plans, and she told me that she'd lived in the then Soviet Republic of Kazakhstan as a young girl and had taken a school trip to Issyk Kul.

 

With the insurance sorted, we drove up to the passport control. Filling in the form took a bit of time, but all in all we proceeded smoothly. A superficial inspection established that we were not trying to smuggle drugs, people or weapons into the country, and we were allowed to the customs checkpoint.

 

I steered the car into the green lane. Nothing to declare. Right away, a young woman came running over, drowning me in a river of fast flowing Russian. ??? Finally we understood. I had to back up and get into the Red Channel.

 

What an ordeal in the middle of the night. Sonia had to take all our bags and suitcases out of the car, while I as the driver was supposed to fill out the car import papers. I was tired and cold and had a severe case of brain fog. The young woman just kept talking real fast, I could barely make out the tiny font on the documents and some less-than-helpful strangers chimed in with what I should write where. I felt thoroughly defeated. How had I managed this six years ago? When the forms were finally completed, both Sonia and I were running on empty. Our bags were searched more minutely than ever before. Then we had to haul them over to an X ray machine and up on the high stand. Back to the car, more searches. Then we had to go to a booth to have our money counted. I refused to just leave the bags unattended, so we hauled everything back into the car. And everything out of the car again ten minutes later, when I had to drive Old Trusty up onto an X-ray machine. Clamber down the 2-meter high grille, then clamber up again to drive the car down. Then explain to the officer that our Honda was a hybrid with nothing more sinister than a large battery hidden in the back. At least he understood that right away.

 

 

At five o'clock, we had finally crossed all hurdles and they happily wished us a good drive and a nice journey. With the sky slowly reddening over Brest, we left the border station, and came to a corridor that looked a bit like a car wash. "5 km/h", a sign announced. We had forgotten about the disinfection procedure! Our car was treated to a foggy shower which made my night vision drop from not-too-good to nonexistent in seconds and then we were, finally, on Warsaw Chaussee which leads directly into Brest.

 

A hundred meters in, we spotted a Beltoll sign and luckily the shop was open all night. Sonia hopped in to buy an e-vignette for the Belarussian highways, while I tried to clean the windows from the foamy disinfectant.

 

Ten minutes later, delirious with exhaustion, we drove along Warsaw Chaussee. "I remember that huge roundabout!", I exclaimed. The large video billboards in front of the shopping mall, the parking lot where I had gotten soaking wet. "Rappelle toi, Sandra, il pleuvait sans cesse sur Brest ce jour là". Yes, and over there is Brest fortress which we visited on the second day. My good mood returned. The sun was going up in the East and we were in Belarus!

 

 

 

 

But I couldn't drive all the way to Minsk without at least a nap. So we parked the car on a lonely lakeside restplace, I climbed into the back, and was out in seconds.

 

Two hours later, I awoke and was ready to brave the - admittedly not challenging - highway to Minsk. A straight road over a flat terrain of yellow fields and green forests, every 10 minutes interrupted by a crossroad where you were supposed to slow down to 70. This was enforced by speed cameras as the average Belarussian seems to love fast driving as much as their Polish neighbours.

 

Some time before noon, the first highrises of Minsk appeared on the horizon. My energy was at its peak again when we cruised along the boulevards, 5 lanes to each side, large highrises towering over us. I had almost forgotten how beautiful this city was! Apartment buildings with huge colourful paintings on the side, parks, shopping malls, futuristic large screens with ads.

 

 

Yandex maps was working perfectly even offline. Without a single glitch, Sonia expertly guided me to our hotel in the city centre. The same hotel we had stayed at six years ago. I squeezed into the last free parking spot while Sonia checked in and then I fell onto the bed in our suite, sure that I would never ever want to get up again.

 

 

After a shower, I felt much more alive and presentable and we set out to get some food. The city felt like an old friend. "Remember that park bench where we rested? And that's the street leading to the underground shopping mall and the huge Lenin statue in front of the government building." We headed straight for the Fressmeile near the old town and decided on a quaint little Central Asian restaurant, Baklazhan. The charcoal grilled shashlik was heavenly, or maybe we were just really hungry.

 

 

Afterwards, we took a stroll through the city streets. Minsk is a bustling city with tons of cosy restaurants, beautifully restored town houses with tree-lined inner courtyards and interesting little shops. But it doesn't feel like a tourist trap at all. Rather like a more polished version of Berlin, all things considered.

 

We walked along the edge of the old town, spotted a looong stretch limo, found a street with both a stop sign and a priority sign next to each other, reminisced about places we had visited last time, made plans on what to go see again tomorrow (spoiler: probably the lake area), in short, we wound down and tuned into vacation mode.