Rus Articles Journal

To see Minsk and to fall in love with

Minsk. The first impressions, like the first fears as it becomes clear, not always the worst. They can be even worse.

Every time, having arrived to someone`s city, - whether it be New - York, Paris or New Horlivka, - to you who again arrived before local natives, it is accepted to admire this city, at least. “Ah, Broadway! Ah, Eiffel Tower! Ah … that there in Nova Gorlovke? Ah, ah, ah“. Though the Broadway did not lie near the Khreshchatyk, and the Eiffel Tower is still represented to me the ugly widow in black, placed the curve legs extensively, about New Horlivka I in general am silent. Never understood why I always have to please someone and why about someone`s native and most beautiful city on Earth, I cannot tell and in all paints to describe why it is not pleasant to me at all and why it is pleasant even to an oskoma.

Before I arrived for the first time to Minsk, to me it is modest, avaricious on - Belarusian, pictured the faded paints of eloquence those who were repeatedly there. “Any Belarusian has a relative in Minsk“ as popular Belarusian wisdom says. “The city is pure. The city is quiet. And Minskers are sympathetic and hospitable“ - further - mum`s the word. As if what superfluous not to bryaknut. And suddenly already not only to Batsk it is impossible to abuse, but also the capital of our Homeland, and?

Now, having visited there repeatedly, I admit: in total - truth. Really, city pure and well-groomed. Rate of life - not city, on - Belarusian moderately measured. People, are generally friendly and will always prompt as where to pass. Especially I like to go in local transport. Nobody is pushed, otdavlivat legs, the evil in a nape does not breathe. The Minsker, as a rule, slowly swims in at completely opened door, ideally takes the place in a vnutreavtobusny puzzle - becomes exactly in one of two ryadochok along hand-rail, - and unperturbably, as if what Buddhist monk, follows to the stop, about himself touching some, Minsk mantras.

On the bus polite aunts - conductors who absolutely not evil persuade Minskers and guests of the capital to pay journey ply. It happens so that just flitted passenger, the coupon does not punch and the ticket does not buy from the conductor, and with is unperturbable a type of a salt column silently follows where it is necessary. The conductor usually does not demand the travel document from it. It is considered, time the passenger does not move, so it has a coupon. The conductor understands, trusts, and walks further to those who venture the ticket to buy. Again demands to show nothing, and nods that who coupons and travel cards shows with such grateful look that, apparently, here - here will rush to kiss them on both cheeks for their such civil consciousness.

Inside nobody talks loudly, litters, drinks beer. Men and women of average years wearily peer into early twilight. Teenagers chirp something by mobile phones. Little girls quietly giggle. And all solemnly sadly follow on the affairs through the twilight krizisno muffled Independence, Winners, Lenina. Pritytsky, Volodarsk, Budenny (Nazvanya - that what! As if the song from the childhood!) . And also sadly disappear in silent doors, carrying away with themselves secret of the emergence.

Though I like the Minsk slow movers and their passengers majestically plying on wide Minsk small streets (though wide, but nevertheless small streets), I cannot get used, used to architecture of these widest small streets in any way. In a word, I would like to look in a face to the one who, from where - on the TV, in magazines and newspapers, still where, constantly imposed me the patriotic fixed idea about such remarkable architecture of Minsk.

As far as I understand, during war Minsk was completely destroyed, and practically built up anew. Therefore ancient monuments, I, in any case, there did not make out. (Though, Minskers good fellows that did not become from some heap of stones of the sixteenth - the seventeenth century, by means of the German cement and the Polish plaster anew to build some “ystorichesky kashtovnasts“, having left in it the only the base).

I not really well represent how the city looked before war, but it seems to me that, restoring this main Belarusian town from ruins, for all these years, up to our days, it still continues to lose the Belarusian identity (sorry for a foreign influence, but did not manage to pick up the Russian equivalent). Then, in the fortieth - the fiftieth, on the city at that time only the “correct“ architectural style - a Stalin empire style very coarsely was got on. The tradition of a shame was carried on later, and lives and until now.

The majority of office buildings of Minsk of that time glyboobrazny, gray, crushing the little Belarusian Acacius Akakiyevich hurrying on some there affairs, the faceless glybost. Palace of the Republic, Central post office, Palaces of Congress, - or as they there now are called, - and also hotels “Planeta“, “Belarus“, some awful gray building with the huge inscription beating to you who is shy looking at it eyes - “Minsk is the hero town“, and ten more of architectural masterpieces of that time, along all Pobediteley Avenue, on the are grandiose, and, on my lack of taste, are absolutely deprived of humanity. That is, they are antigumanna. Are dead. Also are simply ugly.

Somehow I was lucky to be present at a buffet reception at the Palace of the Republic, at one of halls. At first, us, people two hundred sustained in waiting rooms, a huge lobby, then as herd of rams, on command admitted to a feeding trough, tables standing in ten rows with vodka and plates with sausage. The buffet reception was not Russian - chairs were not. And I was terribly tired, and, without waiting for the Sit! team, sat down on the battery. In a minute their the host, the important uncle with a tie on a paunch - a drum, strictly made me the remark. I felt terribly guilty though of what I was guilty, I do not know. I thought that it is a buffet reception for me, and it appeared, I for a buffet reception. Thought, as the uncle with a drum for me. There were I for the uncle. And for show. For a buffet reception, by the way, from us, removed eighty green from a nose. What we together it ate for this enormous sum, I did not understand. Being there, I could not understand for what indoors where do not sing, and drink, to do ceilings twenty meters high. Walls were gray and faceless, all was gray around and faceless though terribly grandiose, and only on the street, in New Year`s Eve sad expectation of a pomigivala yellow bulbs of a garland and quietly snow streamed. Was solemnly and sadly. And it is somehow disgusting from the fact that did not feel like the person. And a tick for a buffet reception for eighty dollars, and for these ugly walls in style of casemates of Che Guevara.

I remember how month to that, having gone to tear to itself tooth in clinic unfamiliar to me, and enduring about it much, I so was lulled by almost house atmosphere of the muffled sconces, goldfishes and ridiculous prints from life of dentists and their wards on the ornamented bolnichka walls, polite personal reception and a gentle music soon that, having visited the therapist, having rooted out tooth at the surgeon, and, despite the blown-out cheek and a full mouth of saliva, having chatted with the giggling cashier, I did not want to clean up from there. To me so there it was good and pokoyno that I promised to return there, as soon as possible. And here in the Minsk hotels paid on fifty dollars in a night and for free lunches - banquets, in these depersonalized walls and almost same it is faceless - heartless personnel, I did not want to come back. In clinic there was a wish. And in hotel with a banquet there was no wish. Well, whether clinic?

Or to take, for example, the center of Minsk - Nyamiha and its vicinities of which everyone is urged to be proud true, - I would even tell “isty“ - it will be so more correct, - Minsker. He agrees, it is slightly less nasty taste, than in the Moscow Babylon, scope not and which - where it is possible to track a logical chain of “kreatiffny designers“. Here, with Belarusian spokukhy and slowness, such pass - Vavilonchik - pass - pandemonium of languages, tastes, styles. On the same building of an inscription in the Russian, English, Italian languages, and, where Latin and where Cyrillics, adjoin with some the punk - baroque - rococo, mixed up with an ubiquitous Stalin empire style, McDonalds at the left, and on the right “Belarusky hash browns“.

Directly - “The furniture living nearby“ - one advertizing, and me, oh, invites horror, there is a wish to run from this live furniture, I run away from it and I fall into clutches “The slot - a casino - bar - hotel“, right there, slightly more to the left, some gray tower beats me a head with enormous “Xerox“, and here, more to the right, “Business - the Center“ with the sign “Zepter“ - probably, there pans sell, “Austrian Bank“ - aha, Austrian bank, “Mars“ - probably, chocolates, “Audi“, “Penthouse“ and “Dolce & Gabana“ - in total in one barrel-shaped, from green glass, a vessel.

Many Minskers terribly are proud in the city of the fact that they are not able to afford. Well, it as all Russians, even those who think that Hitler is the German pornactor are proud of the Victory in the Great Patriotic War. For example, one on the question “And What Good in Minsk?“, having stretched the sad smile in mute surprise, pointed a finger by me and it is proud stretched:

- Well, for example “ Grand Caf; “ where it is possible to drink excellent coffee and to try

of remarkable puff.

- And you often there go? - I ask.

- Well. There was once. It is expensive.

- And it is how expensive?

- Well, a cup of fresh ground Mocha ten - fifteen dollars. The roll - as much more expensively - grustnet it with each word.

Here, there was once, and will be proud all life. As my neighbor is proud that was in McDonald`s.

And it besides that Minsk - not Moscow, where such prices - pretty often, but also salaries others. And as far as all in Minsk, “to the cheapest capital where an abyss between the city and the village - not an abyss, but the Belarusian flood gully“, everything became expensive, I am convinced on own health, over and over again.

For example, a cheburek on - Belarusian, this country food of the Belarusian dekhkanin sent to business trip to the capital of its homeland and to which the maximum price zero whole seven tenth US dollars in cheburechny halls of “the cheapest capital in the former Soviet Union“ grows in own, and at the same time and in yours, from surprise widely opened, eyes, to two dollars and how many - that there kopeks of the USA.

- Yes you what, was sduret?! - involuntarily without having observed bonton - comme il faut, usual for such highly smart cheburechny where the Minsk beau monde dressed in evening dresses and suits sips disgusting white wine “from wine materials of Moldova“ with super - chebureks, jumps out from me. - You have chebureks what, with black caviar, and covered with gold?

- The Young man, not a hochta, do not order - contemptuously throws into me as a stone, feet - nuta the Minsker - an ofitsiyantka.

I in cold sweat and all in the mixed feelings from indignation and hunger fall out on fresh air of this cheburechny den where uncontrollably, on all Ivanovskaya, the new Belarusian walk, eating for two time, three, and even five chebureks, and I shkandybat to shop that in Minsk hotel because where still go in this late hour to chrevougodit to itself, I do not know any more.

In shop, I very much overcome myself, and on one breath I buy the cheapest food only to have a bite for the night. To Bor: a quarter timber of bezdrozhzhevy bread, a fried chicken leg, vinaigrette without vytrebenek and a kefir package. Bread and kefir will stay for a breakfast, and I will knead a leg and vinaigrette today. The girl - the android behind a counter automatically gives short weight me, dexterous gesture of the robot glues stickers on packages, and a people at large of the same starving carries me further to cash desk. They carry me on waves of the human indifference, and I all peer into stickers, and a fig I cannot understand. A chicken quarter timber - nearly three dollars! And two hundred grams of the vinaigrette two and a half which faded from a sad old age! Plus floor of liter of kefir and three crusts of &ndash bread; total ten dollars! For what? Yes for ten dollars I in the Grodno will have breakfast, I will have dinner and I will have supper with champagne and the girl in addition!

I am so upset that I spill out brutal appetite, and I angrily and ruthlessly destroy both a dinner, and a breakfast. Washing down all with the kefir remains, I remember the complex lunches from the first, second and compote for two dollars Connected be they are wrong, the States America. I remember how I every time was smothered by a fat warty toad when in the dining room, for a huge piece of a hake with vegetables and mayonnaise, I was stung to give one dollar. As for a natural cutlet on - Grodno I pressed close to lay out and it is less of that. I remember appetizing chicken legs as legs of the young seductress, harmonous and attracting to cling to them lips, with all heat. And then to stick into them teeth! Both to tear and to chew! To tear and chew! To tear and chew! I in rage! I tear and I mark! I mark and tear! From now on, Minsk, I promise to be to you, so ruthless as far as also you to me! I promise to revenge! And it is cruel to revenge!

While I fall in the reverie of revenge, chicken with vinaigrette cease to gurgle in we wash the indignant stomach, and in me with a new force appetite wakes up. I am again hungry. That also the remains of energy did not leave on my mighty thoughts of revenge, I desperately try to fall asleep, having muffled as a blanket, in the most mixed feelings from hunger, thirst of revenge and fatigue of the passable day, consoling itself in popular Alsace wisdom “Who sleeps - that has dinner“ that in translation, in my opinion, sounds “Not manzh a pas sizhur“ … Or it is other wisdom, other country? Everything, I sleep …