On Saturday morning we met Viktar, my landlord, so he could “register” Néstor to the flat. The Belarusian government keeps track of its citizens and visitors, so we had to visit the Immigration and Passport Control Office, present the proper documents, and pay a small fee ($10 USD). When you stay at a hotel the front desk registers you, which means they have to keep your passport for a few hours, or sometimes overnight. But when you stay in a private residence the owner has to take care of the paperwork. Unlike my registration experience back in September, Néstor’s was uneventful, which was a good thing. The only excitement came at the last minute when the lady was about to reach for her stamp, but instead got up and started digging through a filing cabinet in the corner of the office. All we could do was stand there, watch, and hold our breaths. We had no idea what she was looking for, but whatever it was she didn’t find it, so she finally came back to her desk. Then we heard the magical sound of the stamps being made: Success was ours! Our happiness made the 20-minute walk across town more enjoyable. The sun was shining, but it was still very cold and windy. At midnight it had been –10° Celsius (14° F) and a friend told us the overnight low was –15° C (5° F); the coldest night of winter so far.
Sorry I don’t have more photos for this entry, but it’s not very smart to take out your camera in or around government buildings in
