Drifting on the low plains of Belarus on the way to the capital, Minsk, I passed Belarus highway patrol the whole way, flagging down one unfortunate driver after another (who most of the time seemed only to be puttering along in Russian-made Ladas). Although I was on the national motorway, none of them bothered with me. Near Minsk I saw Soviet-era housing blocks rising from bare fields of nothing, mostly dull grey stacks of concrete but with a few flamingo and aqua tones, such as those here, to brighten the otherwise oppressive monotony. I ended up at a hotel with a high rise view of the capital city’s lights illuminating all that concrete monumentalism over which Aleksandr Lukashenko presides daily. Later that night the phone was ringing off the hook for annoying unsolicited offers of company – I tried to unplug the phone to get some sleep but the rubber cords leading in were not detachable so the ringing persisted. (12-19-04)

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Minsk, Belarus