Evil totalitarian planners built imposing eight-lane boulevards that run ramrod-straight for miles. They commissioned monumental buildings, too far back from the road. And they did it all to make you know the power of the state, and to remind you that the Soviet government was very big and you are very, very small, little man.
In Minsk every building is a monument, and there are monuments besides. Two are vast Communist spaces – the Soviet Square and the Victory Square (photos to come,
here). There’s a government sports complex, a part of town that goes on for miles, topped off down at the end by the new hockey stadium, home to the European hockey finals in 2014.
The GUM department store, at the corner of Lenin and Nezavisimosti streets, is properly big and still broken down into discreet sections, almost individual kiosks, selling various products, just like the GUM in Moscow in 1986. It’s wooden, with big wide staircases and women wearing banners. I don’t know what the banner thing was.
I committed the treasonous act of photographing the deli case in a Gastronom on Nezavisimosti Street. I was caught, and I would have to pay. I thought I could wear down the authorities, but it was hopeless. I was made to delete the two photos on the spot by an insistent pair of young deli employees.
At Hafez Assad’s Baath Party headquarters in Beirut, I played the “I’m just a dumb tourist with a camera” routine long enough that the soldier tired of me and let me keep my photo.
I may have outlasted the Baath Party, but not the deli case duo in Minsk. I am sorry I do not have the two samizdat photos of Belarusian sausages I was hoping to seditiously circulate to the outside world.
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Some very nice folks in Minsk, where the pace of life was relaxed even amid the monster edifices. Trouble is, the rationale for the whole town’s design has come and gone, but the city is still there, and they still have to live in it.