Going to Russia
My visit to the Russia begins
with the preparations, namely the quest for a Russian visa. I had naively
thought that obtaining a Russian visa would be about the same as getting a visa
for any other country. No. I spoke with a colleague who has visited Russian on
several occasions, and luckily, she helped me out enormously. Before I could
even take my passport to the Russian embassy, I needed; an invitation, proof of
insurance, proof of residence in Uzbekistan. I booked my hotel, and paid an
additional $20 for an ‘invitation.’ I printed this invitation in colour. I
photocopied my lease agreement with my Uzbek landlord, and had the school
secretary write a letter on school letterhead, complete with official rubber
stamp, that confirmed that I work in Uzbekistan. I photocopied my insurance
card. I then had to go online and fill in a two-page visa application form. I
had to provide details of ALL of my education, ALL of my jobs, and EVERY
country I have visited in the last 10 years (with dates).
I gathered all of these
documents, and a photocopy of my hotel reservation and my plane ticket, and set
off to the Russian embassy one fine Wednesday morning. You can only drop off
visa applications between 10 and 12. When I arrived at the embassy (you have to
go to the back of the building), there was a mob scene. Luckily, my friend
Kathryn had told me exactly which door to approach and how. (the door to the
left, waving my passport and repeating ‘visa, visa, visa’). The guards politely
indicated that I had to wait until 10 (I had arrived early). I planted myself
firmly at the edge of the gate, and on the stroke of 10, advanced again. I had
to leave my phone on a shelf outside. Again, Kathryn had forewarned me that I
couldn’t take a purse in, so I had all of my documents, and bundles of soum in
a transparent plastic document envelope. I went through the door and came into
a small entryway. The gentleman behind the window looked at my passport and
application form, and gave me another form to fill out. The form was in
Russian, but between the two of us, I figured out where I was supposed to put
my name and date of birth.
This gentleman then gave me back
my passport and application form and buzzed me through the second door. At this
point I was in a courtyard with more ‘windows,’ and another door on the other
side. I went through the door and entered another hallway. I tried the door on
the left, and found the photocopier storage room. I tried the door on the
right, and found a hall with more windows. I got into the first line, but
eventually realized that window number 3 was for visas. There was a curtain
drawn across this window, but I stood there anyway, because it did say ‘visas.’
Eventually a line formed behind me.
Finally a young Russian woman
opened the curtains, and pulled my documents through to her side of the window.
She looked at everything very carefully and slowly. She looked from my passport
photo to me and back again. Even though that picture is horrific, she was satisfied
that is was me. She gave me another application form to fill in. When this was
done, I handed everything back to her. After another five minutes of document
perusal, and paper clipping and stamping, she put my passport and documentation
in a plastic sleeve, gave the package back to me, and indicated that I now had
to proceed to the cashier.
Through another door, and down
another dingy hallway, and I came to the window marked ‘cashier.’ I put my
little package in the tray under the window. The window was completely opaque,
so I couldn’t tell if there was anyone there or not. The tray disappeared behind
the window, so evidently there was someone there. Then a voice came over the
little intercom: ‘money.’ I replied ‘how much.’ A little slip of paper with an
amount was slid to me. I dug out 151,000 soum (about $50), and slid it through.
A few minutes later, a receipt was
passed to me, with the date and time when I could pick up my passport (two
weeks later, after 3PM).
I was relieved that the process
had been far less stressful than I had imagined. I made my way towards the
exit. Huh. I passed through the first courtyard, and was confronted by two
doors. I hesitated and looked back at the crowd waiting in the courtyard (to be
seen by who knows what official). They indicated the door on the right. It was
locked. There was another intercom thing. I buzzed it and heard very faint
Russian. I pushed and pulled on the door. Nothing. I buzzed it again. The
people in the courtyard were shouting directions at me. In Russian. I felt
profoundly stupid, and a little panicky. Finally someone came and opened the door
for me. I exited the embassy, retrieved my phone from the shelf (I made sure it
was mine by checking the text messages), and I was off.
My Russian adventure was one step
closer when I retrieved my passport from the Russian embassy. I had been a bit
nervous without my passport for two weeks, as we are always told to have our passport
with us at all times. I have had my passport checked a few times when entering
the Metro, so for two weeks I kept close to home.
I am a little frightened by how
adept I have become at circumventing lines. I arrived at the embassy at 3PM on
a Wednesday afternoon. I had a slip of paper with the date, and 3PM, written on
it. When I arrived at the embassy, there was already a rowdy queue. I rushed up
to the soldier at the head of the line and waved my piece of paper at him.
“Three, three, three!” I yelled in Russian. I just shrugged at their answer and
indicated that I was a stupid foreigner. He finally gave in and let me through.
I rushed to the visa window, picked up my passport, and I was back at school
within the hour.
