Belarus Travel Blog — how not to get deported, a.k.a. A Traveller’s Tale in Belarus, a.k.a. always make sure your visa is in order:

Today’s story is inspired by a former colleague and a good mate, who when reading one of my blogs a few weeks ago, said whatever you do, don’t write about the time we got deported from Belarus. Unbeknownst to us both, I had done it two years ago, but it bears repeating…..

Phase 1:

It is said that to make a mistake once is forgivable, twice is careless and three times is unforgivable. I am therefore on my last chance in relation to Belarus. I have managed (almost) to get myself deported twice from the same country.

Let me explain: firstly, Belarus is an independent sovereign nation but with very close ties to Russia. The name of the country literally means “White Russia”. Because of its close ties, Russian citizens do not require a visa to visit.

About twenty years ago, a group of us decided to visit Lithuania for the weekend. We were all then living in and working in St Petersburg. There were eight Russians, two Irish and a Scotsman. Our route was to be by train from St Petersburg through Estonia and Latvia. Our Russian friends did the organisation and assured us that everything was in order. We boarded the train at 18.00 on a Thursday evening and settled down for a 17 hour journey to Vilnius. The company was good, the craic was great, we had plenty with us to eat and drink and spirits were high in anticipation of a great weekend.

Sleep was not considered a priority but after a good repast followed by numerous beers and vodka toasts, we eventually succumbed sometime in the small hours. However, we were awakened at 06.00 by border guards who wished to check passports. Nothing out of the ordinary about that except that they were Belarussian. Unbeknownst to us, the train had traveled through Belarus and we were now about 50 kms from the Lithuanian border.

Passports were presented and here the sad tale began to unfold. We were informed that as we were not in possession of Belorussian visas, we had entered the country illegally (we, being the Irish and the Scot; Russians didn’t need a visa). Pleas about the train being re-routed or the fact that we were exiting again in 50 kms fell on deaf ears. Serious negotiations were conducted between our Russian friends and the border guards and we understood that “incentives” may even have been offered but to no avail. We were informed that we must leave this train and return to St Petersburg on the next train. The good news was that they were not going to arrest us. The bad news was that the next train wouldn’t pass through for another fourteen hours.

So off we trouped, waving a sad goodbye to our Russian colleagues, all thoughts of a great weekend of camaraderie now consigned to memory. The Russians insisted we take the remaining drink so we did have about two dozen beers for company. The place where we had stopped wasn’t even a regular train station — there was no town or village nearby; no warm waiting room; no station buffet or café. We seemed doomed to eighteen hours of freezing cold boredom followed by a twelve hour return journey to St Pete. By that stage it would have been pointless to try to return for the weekend, even if we had the good fortune to obtain Belarussian visas upon our return. (We had discovered in the meantime that all trains for Lithuania actually transited Belorussia at some point). To make matters worse, I was carrying an injured ankle which made movement very difficult and the jump from the high train (remember no platform) when we were forced to disembark had all but finished me off.

However, hope springs eternal and after a time, we entered into conversation with our two border guard friends, who no doubt had far more interesting things to be doing than guarding three foreigners for eighteen hours. None of the three of us had a command of the language but we managed to muster enough to make ourselves understood. The Irish man abroad (not to speak of the Scot) can be very resourceful and we had been considering all options and trying to obtain as much information as we could from our two friends who, to be fair, were friendly and sympathetic. It transpired that there was one place in Belorussia where visas could be purchased on entry: the airport in Minsk. There were of course the minor problems that we had already entered the country illegally and that Minsk was 175 kms away.

Nonetheless we put the idea of possibly attempting to travel there to the guards and one of them immediately departed for higher authority to air the proposal. He returned fairly quickly and we were brought to another holding area where more senior figures appeared to abound. There was much Kafkaesque toing and froing in corridors and eventually a senior officer appeared and gave us the go ahead to depart for Minsk. Our passports were returned to us with the stipulation that if we were detained between there and Minsk by any other authorities, we were on our own. Fair enough.

Having cleared the first hurdle, the next problem was how to get to Minsk. There was no train or indeed any other form of transport. We set off down a country road in subzero temperatures but spirits began to rise again. I should state that in practically all of the C.I.S. at that time, a car would stop anywhere for you if you hitched a lift. If the driver was going your way he would be happy to oblige but you were be expected to pay for the privilege. We had walked no more than a kilometre when a local farmer appeared driving an old Ford Sierra. The proposal was put to him about driving us to Minsk. He readily agreed for a fee of $100. The 175 kms was completed without incident. Mind you, the fact that only three of the five gears on the Sierra worked made for a somewhat slower stop-start journey. We also discovered later that we had paid about three times the going rate.

Incidentally, while Belarus is a relatively poor underdeveloped country, it has an excellent infrastructure. The road network is superb; Minsk international airport is large and modern and Minsk railway station is state-of-the-art.

On arrival in Minsk airport, we found that officials had been contacted by the border guards. They knew all about us and were waiting to accommodate us. Visas were issued in record time and we then taxied to the main railway station to catch an evening train to Vilnius. In total, it took us twenty nine hours to reach our destination but it was still only Friday night and a warm welcome awaited us from our Russian friends on arrival in Vilnius. Hot soup and vodka were the order of the day and the weekend festivities recommenced.

A final word on the wounded soldier: My ankle got progressively worse and it got to the stage where I couldn’t walk at all. All I could do during our sightseeing excursions was to find a nice warm bar and await my colleagues return. It was difficult but I got through it.

Phase 2

About a year later, I was invited to a wedding in Belarus. Having recalled my previous experience, there was no way I was going to take any chances this time. I would fly to Minsk on the Friday afternoon, purchase my visa on arrival and hire a car to take me to where the wedding was due to take place the following day, Saturday at lunch time. I even contacted the Irish embassy in Moscow to clarify that visas could still be purchased on entry at Minsk airport. They confirmed that indeed they could. However, the best laid plans….

What the embassy or the travel agent didn’t tell me was that Minsk, unbelievably, has two airports but that only one issues visas. The other airport is old and very small and has only one international flight per day — yes, you’ve guessed it — my flight. Needless to say, it was of no consequence to my Russian friends, who don’t need visas for travel to Belarus. What transpired over the course of the weekend made my previous visit seem like a picnic. It is best described in stages:

1. 10.30 am Friday: Flew from St Pete to Moscow as there was no direct flight to Minsk — charged $15 for excess baggage. I was bringing some heavy gifts, as in bottles of drink for the wedding.

2. 14.00 — At check-in in Moscow, I was told that they had no bag check-in facility; i.e.: I would have to carry my own bags to the plane. Normally, not a big problem but I had two large cases and two small ones. I had to bring them up two flights of stairs, then down again and load them on a bus, all this in temperatures of 30C+. Then, load them on the aircraft which was very small. They fitted — only just. I wasn’t the only one — some other people were caught too. My bags weighed a total of 84 kilos and needless to say, they charged me another $70 in Moscow even though they didn’t handle the bags.

3. When I arrived in Minsk, (15.00 — time is an hour behind) a nice guy gave me a hand with the bags but there my luck ended.

4. Immigration check: I was told, yes, certainly I could buy a visa on entry to Belarus — except you can only do it in one airport and I had the misfortune to land in the other one. Only one flight a day and it had to be mine. I asked Immigration if they would let me travel by taxi to the other airport to buy it but they said no way. I explained that I had done this before but they refused. I would have to go back to Moscow. They were very polite but firm. They made a point of telling me that I was not being arrested because I had not yet entered the country illegally. So I wasn’t going to be deported, just refused entry. I rang everyone I thought could help me, including the Irish Ambassador, but to no avail.

5. I was put in a room with an Immigration officer guarding me — no tea, coffee, water or food.

6. I can see you asking, what did he do with the bags? My colleagues had already departed through the domestic zone and could not make contact with me. Well no way was I bringing them back to Moscow and going through that debacle again so I took my clothes out and put them in one bag and left everything else in the others. Was there a left luggage facility? Was there a what? A brainwave hit me. Could I order a taxi to bring the bags to my friends’ place? Yes, certainly sir. Grand — taxi arrived and I paid him $20 to bring the bags. You could say I was trusting but to be honest, I didn’t care if I never saw them again. To be fair though, my man delivered them and they were in the hotel with my friends before I left to fly back to Moscow.

7. Then my luck changed, sort of. A senior immigration officer arrived — had a hurried conversation with the officer who was guarding me and appeared to give him a dressing down and I thought, hurray, I’m out. He escorted me through Immigration and out on to the street. Now, says he, ‘you can smoke if you wish.’ Wonderful — if you wanted a smoke. I didn’t. That was the only concession but to be fair, when I explained the situation to the senior man, he tried to be helpful. He arranged for an agent to come and he sold me a tourist invitation (apparently needed) and a visa which I could collect in the other airport later that night. He said if I flew to Moscow and paid $200 for another ticket, they would have a representative waiting for me to transfer straight to the other flight — he even gave me his name — Vladimir Anatolivich. There was only ten minutes transfer time so I would have to be quick. With only my hand luggage, it could be done. I agreed and paid him $85 for the invitation and the promised visa.

8. At 20.00, a check-in agent arrived and took my return ticket to Moscow — checked me in for the flight and escorted me on board.

9. Flight operated on time and we arrived in Moscow. Oh, I was in such a hurry getting off that I left my book behind but sure so what?

10. Luck then deserted me again. The bus was ages arriving and when I got off, no sign of Vladimir. Undaunted, I dashed to the ticket desk and tried to buy a ticket — you’ve guessed it, there was a queue. When I got to the top, the agent told me the flight was full. I asked if they could sell me one for the following morning. The agent said fine but when I tried to pay with a credit card, I was told cash only. A mad dash to the cash ATM followed but when I came back, the queue had re-formed. Eventually I bought a ticket but shock, horror, when I realised it was going to the same airport I had come from (Minsk 1).

11. Back to the desk and the lady reluctantly gave me a refund. To be fair to her, most airlines would probably tell you to go away or worse.

12. I then asked, ‘can you sell me a ticket to the other airport?’ No, she says, “only at the Belavia desk and that’s closed until tomorrow morning”. At this stage it was after midnight.

13. Went out front to get a taxi — I knew the taxis at this airport were a total rip-off, as in, $40 to go two miles to the Novotel, the only hotel within range. I was wandering outside when I had my next stroke of luck. I saw a minibus with no markings but it looked like the Novotel courtesy bus. There was a driver and a girl in the front seat. I asked were they going to Novotel and she said yes, hop in.

14. Anyway, if you are still with me, I got up at 06.30 on Saturday, quick breakfast. Oh by the way, cost of night in hotel — $277. I had to go to the main international terminal to get more money as my card wouldn’t work in the ATM. When I got there, the bank was on a ‘technical break.’ I had to wait forty five minutes — then go through an interminable procedure to get money on my credit card.

15. Back to terminal one — taxi $40. Courtesy transfer between terminals? You must be joking.

16. In terminal one, bought ticket to Minsk 2 for $200. Check in was trouble free. Baggage handling was available but of course was not now required as I was down to hand luggage. At departure time (10.40), nothing happened. No announcements, nothing. Rumours abounded about technical problems, etc. Eventually, the plane left at 12.15, no announcements, no explanations, no apologies.

17. Arrived in Minsk 2 (the “International” airport) at 12.30 local. The wedding was at 13.00 so I still had some hope of making at least part of it. I explained that I had bought a visa and invitation the previous day and that it was to be waiting for me the previous night. No dice — that was yesterday says the lady at the desk, you need to buy another today. Another $85. No point in arguing so I bought the visa and got through Immigration quickly.

18. Then things got really interesting. I had about twenty minutes to hire my car and drive the 75km to the town where the wedding was taking place. I looked for the Avis car hire desk but couldn’t find it or, indeed, any car hire desk. I went outside and saw a rusting Avis sign in the car park. As I walked over to it, obviously looking lost, a security man asked me was I looking for something. I told him my predicament and he laughingly told me the Avis desk had closed — ages ago as in maybe a year ago. Incidentally, I tried without success for six months to advise Avis about this. Their website would not handle my complaint without a booking reference and when I entered the reference I was given, it rejected it as invalid.

19. Back into the terminal — tried to find a bank to change dollars into Belorussian roubles — two banks, nothing like a bit of competition but both closed. As there were very few passengers in evidence, I had become a curiosity at this stage and a taxi man approached me and asked if I was the guy who wanted the Avis desk. He offered to bring me to either the city to look for the Avis office (he had never heard of it by the way) or to my ultimate destination out in the country. I thought it better to go there directly. He insisted on $100, so what could I do?

20. By the time I got there, I had missed the wedding ceremony but I did make it in time for the wedding reception and received a rapturous welcome. Well, I was the only foreigner present and all had been made aware of my mishap the previous day. The wedding reception was wonderful.

21. What I hadn’t realised was that I hadn’t really missed the wedding at all — only the registry office part. Next day was day two of wedding — the Church part — this was another wonderful day.

22. Monday morning — up at 06.00 — got local taxi to take me to the airport and he only charged 30 euro.

23. Got to airport Minsk 1 — the other return flight from Minsk 2 wasn’t going till Monday night and I needed to get back. Tried to change the ticket but no way — had to buy another one. Ah, says the lady at the ticket desk, with something akin to triumph on her face, the plane is full, there’s no seat. I then had the horrendous task trying to explain to her that I had a reservation on the flight in the first place — remember — the return ticket that I had had to use on Friday night. I eventually succeeded in convincing her but as my original ticket had been used on the Friday night, I had to purchase another one for $100.

24. Got to Moscow — now the pleasant bit. Chanced my arm going to the Belavia desk to see could I get a refund on the unused part of the ticket and I did, well she gave me back $40 so better than nothing.

25. Eventually got back to St Petersburg around tea time on Monday.

I’m not going to add up the costs — I’d only upset myself. You can do so if you wish. Oh and add in the fact that my sunglasses were stolen when I left them down for a minute at the Belavia desk. They cost around $60.

Ah sure, it’s only money — moral of the story: never leave home without a valid visa.

I have to say that all the mistakes and errors were my own and this is not typical of travel in Russia. It is usually highly efficient and everything operates on time. But, be sure to have all your documents in place — don’t be a stupid foreigner. :)