I was waiting to post this until things were resolved. And now they are! Things are never as easy as they sound, are they? I sort of knew before we got here that "no problem" was a standard response to most any question. Getting a new passport wasn't that hard, but being in a place where you don't know the language or the customs or the city can be a bit daunting.
Oh yeah, I guess I can tell you now that when we were finishing our city tour on Sunday, someone got into my camera bag and took my passport and credit card. I thought I had it buried pretty well in the bag, but when I got back to the hotel, I noticed that the pocket zipper was open and I could see the map and guide book that I had with me in front of the wallet with the documents in it. I had the bag with me the whole time, but I had put it on my back like a backpack since we were mostly walking for about 8 hours that day and it was a lot easier. I can pretty well pinpoint that it was after we finally gotten on the Metro and trolley as the last part of the tour. I immediately tried to report it and since it was 7 pm on a Sunday night here, there wasn't anyone to help me communicate it to the police. We immediately stopped the credit card, which had been used once, just minutes before we called. We were nervous about cancelling it because Joyce and I are on the same account, but we have different numbers (thank you, Purdue Federal!), so it was ok. So now, how to get new documents?
Thankfully Yakov, the person in the US arranging the tour, suggested by email that we should use the driver and the translator for Monday to get things handled. After Natasha and her mother, the head of the local adoption agency here, arrived at the hotel and we explained the situation. We set off for the police station to report the crime, the first step. Well it was a police station and it was nearest to the hotel. After Natasha translated the whole story, they decided we were not in their jurisdiction. So we all piled back into the van to head to the next station.
I don't know that I can really tell you what happened at the next station but I do know that it took about 90 minutes. After Natasha explained to the front desk officer, we waited a few minutes and a young guy that I assume was a detective took us upstairs to an office. He was dressed in fashionable jeans and a T-shirt. He wrote out the report in long hand, asking Natasha several questions along the way, some of which Natasha answered and some that she asked me before answering. Eventually he had 5 or 6 pages of the report that we each signed in several places. Finally I got my receipt that I needed and we were off to the Consulate's Office. Joyce decided to stay with me rather than go with the rest of the group to visit the orphan hospital and a baby's orphanage.
Once at the US Consulate Office, we couldn't get past the door. I was given a cell phone and the person on the other end of the phone told me to come back at 1:30 with passport photos and told me where to get it.
Photo taken and received, we walked around a bit and the waited until 1:30. At the appointed hour we returned, only to have to enter one at a time, emptying all electronics and leaving them in a bin. We found the office and a very pleasant woman helped me with the documents we needed. The consulate on duty was very pleasant and made us feel a bit better about the whole ordeal. In about an hour and a half I had a temporary passport and we went outside to wait for Natasha and the van to pick us up.
The next stop was across town to the immigration information office. It was a non-descript office with few windows and people scattered throughout the waiting areas in no discernible order. Natasha did some checking and told us to wait...not one of our best traits. The protocol here seems to be that people waiting for something gather in a room and when a new person enters, there is some bickering back and forth to see who was the last person to arrive and who follows who. I've observed it several times now. The first time wasn't very fun. We didn't know who was doing what, when anything was going to happen, what anyone was saying, and what any of the dozens and dozens of notices that covered the walls were saying. No one seemed to be very happy. And it was hot.
During this time I talked with a young American who was leaving. He also needed a new visa, but was going to be there for a couple more weeks, and they wouldn't issue the visa until he was within 10 days of departure. He looked over what I had and said that I shouldn't have any trouble. Now, just to get to the window.
At one point, Natasha stepped outside, supposedly to have a cigarette. When she returned, she had a bottle of water for each of us, which caused Joyce to tear up because of her kindness.
Finally, after about 90 minutes, Natasha called me to go with her to one of the windows. She explained my situation to the gentleman there, who told her a number of things that I didn't understand. I showed him the documents that I had, but it was clear that he wanted something more. I listened patiently, and finally, Natasha took a piece of paper and started writing out a list of the things that I needed to do to get my replacement visa. She got to #5 of the list and the man hesitated, and called over the blond young woman, who apparently was the supervisor. By the time she finished, I had a list of 8 items/actions needed. Natasha explained the list to me and what I would need to do to get those items. She also told me that I would need to be back to the "Unfomais" (I'm not sure what the spelling is and it took me a long time to get the pronunciation so that the Russian's would understand what I was talking about!) before 3 on Tuesday as they were not open on Wednesday.
By this time, Joyce had just about hit her limit. Natasha called Masha and we discussed whether she would go with me and have the rest of the group miss Peterhoff or if someone from her office would go with me to get the things I needed the next day. There was no question but what the rest of the group needed to go to Peterhoff, so it was decided and we would go our separate ways on Tuesday.
We walked the rest of the way back to the metro station at the Technological Institute, took the metro a couple of stops, and then left Natasha to go her own way because she had a pre-schooler to pick up from day care. We made our way back to the hotel without incident and then went to meet the rest of the group for dinner.
The next day I met Masha's secretary, also Natasha. She told me that her spoken English wasn't so good, but she was very good with written English, so I knew we'd be OK. Masha called the Consulate before we left to be certain of what we would need, especially since one of the items was a more complete statement from the police than the 'receipt' I had from them. I was nervous about that because I didn't know where the police station was that I had filed my report. Masha left is that the Consulate would call Natasha when they got resolution about what I needed. In the meantime, we set off for the things I needed. I sort of felt like I was on an 'Amazing Race' scavenger hunt!
First, we went to pay the 'tax' for the replacement visa. That was to be done at a local bank, so we walked to the appropriate one not far from Nevsky Prospekt, maybe 20 minutes from the hotel. This station only had the equivalent of ATM's (very sophisticated ATM's from what I could tell), but the attendant there couldn't instruct us how to get to a place in the program that we could pay the 600 ruble tax. We needed to find a location that had real people. Off we go!
After a couple of false starts, we found the facility a few blocks off of Nevsky Prospekt. I was actually the one who spotted the sign, and Natasha was quite relieved because hadn't been to this location previously. Once inside, another line. This time it seemed much more orderly, though there still seemed to be some confusion every time someone new entered the office.
After about 15 minutes, it was our time at the teller window. The tellers were all behind solid glass walls with just a small tray below to talk and send documents back and forth. Natasha explained that I needed to pay the tax, but the young woman teller just kept saying 'nyet'. Finally Natasha called Masha, and they talked for maybe 5 minutes or more while we were at the window. Suddenly, I was sending the money through the tray, and we had our receipt and were on our way.
Next to get more passport photos. We found the first location near Nevsky again and somewhat close to the Cathedral on Spilled Blood. It was off the street and through an inner court yard. Again, I was able to identify the signs, which made me feel like I was doing something that was helping the process. But also again, this place did not do photographs. But they did tell us where to go, which was in a big department store that was also with the Gostiny Dvor Metro station. We located the kiosk, got my picture, and a bathroom break. By the time we returned to the kiosk, my picture was ready (6 of them this time for the same money). The Consulate still hadn't called, so Natasha called them. Now she was writing out a new list.
By the time Natasha had gotten a new list, there were 7 or 8 items on it, and some of them didn't match what was on the other list. There really wasn't a choice but to trust that I was going to have what I needed. So we got on the Metro and took off toward the dreaded building.
I had tried to memorize the route back the previous night, but this Natasha took a little different route. I knew we were headed in the right direction and I knew what it looked like. We actually got directly there without any incident.
Natasha determined which window we were to go to and established us in the pecking order of all the people in the room. I noticed that they took a break from 13:00-14:00, and it was now about 12:30. I resigned myself that we would be there for some time. In the meantime, there was the application form, written in Russian, of course, that needed to be completed. Natasha took the form, asked the questions of me that I didn't have on any of my documents, and was about 2/3 finished when it was our time at the window. It was about 12:55.
The blond woman who I assumed yesterday was the supervisor was at the window. She asked for the documents one by one, and I was happy that I had everything she asked for. She took the application and wrote in a few things that were missing and indicated which others needed to be filled in. By now, it was well after 13:00 and I assumed that we would have quite a while to finish things up during their lunch break. Natasha kept copying away and I helplessly sat by. Another woman was now sitting in front of our window and she was asking my blond supervisor to process a stack of forms a couple of inches thick, presumably a set of visas for a group.
We were finished with the form, so I took pictures of them for proof with my phone, to Natasha's amusement. Natasha interrupted while the new customer was signing the big stack (evidently, interrupting someone else who is getting service is also the thing to do here), and thankfully, my blond supervisor accepted my application and documents, stamped them with her stamp (a glorious sound I had been waiting for!) and told Natasha that I should return to collect the visa on Friday morning. Our train is scheduled to leave at 1:45. Nothing to do but wait. I feel so Russian!
Now it is Friday. I've been joking that if my visa doesn't come through, maybe I can get a job with a local folk show (read another post for that story). Yesterday, "I'll be home for Christmas" was playing while we were eating breakfast (lots of American music here, from all eras and genres), and I said maybe that would be my theme song. Masha had told me yesterday that she would be going with me to the "Unfomais" today, so I met her at 9:15, and off we went.
We took the Metro from the station nearest the hotel, and she seemed to be a bit surprised that I knew what I was doing. I knew that I could find the building, but once inside, I didn't know what to do. We arrived a little before 10, and Masha did the line dance to find out which line and where in the line we were located. Of course, our first line was not the right line, but that was sorted out fairly quickly. Natasha told me that it was open after 10, but apparently it opened at 9 and we were well down in the queue. Masha and I had quite a good talk about Russian alphabet, recent Russian history, the attitude of the Russian people toward the different recent eras, family structures, and more. After about 45 minutes, Masha did some more checking and found that there were a number of people in front of us. She didn't say so, but I think she was worried if I would get through in time. She did the Russian thing and pushed in while someone else at the window as signing documents and my favorite blond supervisor pulled over a stack that had my picture on top! I have never been so happy to see my face! I quickly signed where she told me to sign, took the precious greenish document, and stuck it safely away with my passport.
And we were off! It was about 11:00. On the way back to the metro, we stopped at a couple of stores to try and find a pesky USB cable that needed to be replaced to charge one of the cameras and get photos taken off, but still no luck. They were quick stops and we were soon back on the Metro for the hotel.
While I would not advise anyone to come to Russia and get your passport stolen, at least I had a chance to learn so much more about Russian life than I would have as a 'mere' tourist. I also really enjoyed the one-on-one time with my three guides, the Natasha's and Masha. But then again, maybe being just a tourist wouldn't be so bad!
There are some pictures of the police station, the Consulate, and other relevant sites on this adventure posted on the picasaweb site, in case you were wondering why they were there! Just be assured that I now have my visa and it is safely put away with my passport!!
Oh yeah, I guess I can tell you now that when we were finishing our city tour on Sunday, someone got into my camera bag and took my passport and credit card. I thought I had it buried pretty well in the bag, but when I got back to the hotel, I noticed that the pocket zipper was open and I could see the map and guide book that I had with me in front of the wallet with the documents in it. I had the bag with me the whole time, but I had put it on my back like a backpack since we were mostly walking for about 8 hours that day and it was a lot easier. I can pretty well pinpoint that it was after we finally gotten on the Metro and trolley as the last part of the tour. I immediately tried to report it and since it was 7 pm on a Sunday night here, there wasn't anyone to help me communicate it to the police. We immediately stopped the credit card, which had been used once, just minutes before we called. We were nervous about cancelling it because Joyce and I are on the same account, but we have different numbers (thank you, Purdue Federal!), so it was ok. So now, how to get new documents?Thankfully Yakov, the person in the US arranging the tour, suggested by email that we should use the driver and the translator for Monday to get things handled. After Natasha and her mother, the head of the local adoption agency here, arrived at the hotel and we explained the situation. We set off for the police station to report the crime, the first step. Well it was a police station and it was nearest to the hotel. After Natasha translated the whole story, they decided we were not in their jurisdiction. So we all piled back into the van to head to the next station.
I don't know that I can really tell you what happened at the next station but I do know that it took about 90 minutes. After Natasha explained to the front desk officer, we waited a few minutes and a young guy that I assume was a detective took us upstairs to an office. He was dressed in fashionable jeans and a T-shirt. He wrote out the report in long hand, asking Natasha several questions along the way, some of which Natasha answered and some that she asked me before answering. Eventually he had 5 or 6 pages of the report that we each signed in several places. Finally I got my receipt that I needed and we were off to the Consulate's Office. Joyce decided to stay with me rather than go with the rest of the group to visit the orphan hospital and a baby's orphanage.Once at the US Consulate Office, we couldn't get past the door. I was given a cell phone and the person on the other end of the phone told me to come back at 1:30 with passport photos and told me where to get it.
Photo taken and received, we walked around a bit and the waited until 1:30. At the appointed hour we returned, only to have to enter one at a time, emptying all electronics and leaving them in a bin. We found the office and a very pleasant woman helped me with the documents we needed. The consulate on duty was very pleasant and made us feel a bit better about the whole ordeal. In about an hour and a half I had a temporary passport and we went outside to wait for Natasha and the van to pick us up.
The next stop was across town to the immigration information office. It was a non-descript office with few windows and people scattered throughout the waiting areas in no discernible order. Natasha did some checking and told us to wait...not one of our best traits. The protocol here seems to be that people waiting for something gather in a room and when a new person enters, there is some bickering back and forth to see who was the last person to arrive and who follows who. I've observed it several times now. The first time wasn't very fun. We didn't know who was doing what, when anything was going to happen, what anyone was saying, and what any of the dozens and dozens of notices that covered the walls were saying. No one seemed to be very happy. And it was hot.
During this time I talked with a young American who was leaving. He also needed a new visa, but was going to be there for a couple more weeks, and they wouldn't issue the visa until he was within 10 days of departure. He looked over what I had and said that I shouldn't have any trouble. Now, just to get to the window.At one point, Natasha stepped outside, supposedly to have a cigarette. When she returned, she had a bottle of water for each of us, which caused Joyce to tear up because of her kindness.
Finally, after about 90 minutes, Natasha called me to go with her to one of the windows. She explained my situation to the gentleman there, who told her a number of things that I didn't understand. I showed him the documents that I had, but it was clear that he wanted something more. I listened patiently, and finally, Natasha took a piece of paper and started writing out a list of the things that I needed to do to get my replacement visa. She got to #5 of the list and the man hesitated, and called over the blond young woman, who apparently was the supervisor. By the time she finished, I had a list of 8 items/actions needed. Natasha explained the list to me and what I would need to do to get those items. She also told me that I would need to be back to the "Unfomais" (I'm not sure what the spelling is and it took me a long time to get the pronunciation so that the Russian's would understand what I was talking about!) before 3 on Tuesday as they were not open on Wednesday.
By this time, Joyce had just about hit her limit. Natasha called Masha and we discussed whether she would go with me and have the rest of the group miss Peterhoff or if someone from her office would go with me to get the things I needed the next day. There was no question but what the rest of the group needed to go to Peterhoff, so it was decided and we would go our separate ways on Tuesday.
We walked the rest of the way back to the metro station at the Technological Institute, took the metro a couple of stops, and then left Natasha to go her own way because she had a pre-schooler to pick up from day care. We made our way back to the hotel without incident and then went to meet the rest of the group for dinner.
The next day I met Masha's secretary, also Natasha. She told me that her spoken English wasn't so good, but she was very good with written English, so I knew we'd be OK. Masha called the Consulate before we left to be certain of what we would need, especially since one of the items was a more complete statement from the police than the 'receipt' I had from them. I was nervous about that because I didn't know where the police station was that I had filed my report. Masha left is that the Consulate would call Natasha when they got resolution about what I needed. In the meantime, we set off for the things I needed. I sort of felt like I was on an 'Amazing Race' scavenger hunt!
First, we went to pay the 'tax' for the replacement visa. That was to be done at a local bank, so we walked to the appropriate one not far from Nevsky Prospekt, maybe 20 minutes from the hotel. This station only had the equivalent of ATM's (very sophisticated ATM's from what I could tell), but the attendant there couldn't instruct us how to get to a place in the program that we could pay the 600 ruble tax. We needed to find a location that had real people. Off we go!
After a couple of false starts, we found the facility a few blocks off of Nevsky Prospekt. I was actually the one who spotted the sign, and Natasha was quite relieved because hadn't been to this location previously. Once inside, another line. This time it seemed much more orderly, though there still seemed to be some confusion every time someone new entered the office.
After about 15 minutes, it was our time at the teller window. The tellers were all behind solid glass walls with just a small tray below to talk and send documents back and forth. Natasha explained that I needed to pay the tax, but the young woman teller just kept saying 'nyet'. Finally Natasha called Masha, and they talked for maybe 5 minutes or more while we were at the window. Suddenly, I was sending the money through the tray, and we had our receipt and were on our way.
Next to get more passport photos. We found the first location near Nevsky again and somewhat close to the Cathedral on Spilled Blood. It was off the street and through an inner court yard. Again, I was able to identify the signs, which made me feel like I was doing something that was helping the process. But also again, this place did not do photographs. But they did tell us where to go, which was in a big department store that was also with the Gostiny Dvor Metro station. We located the kiosk, got my picture, and a bathroom break. By the time we returned to the kiosk, my picture was ready (6 of them this time for the same money). The Consulate still hadn't called, so Natasha called them. Now she was writing out a new list.
By the time Natasha had gotten a new list, there were 7 or 8 items on it, and some of them didn't match what was on the other list. There really wasn't a choice but to trust that I was going to have what I needed. So we got on the Metro and took off toward the dreaded building.
I had tried to memorize the route back the previous night, but this Natasha took a little different route. I knew we were headed in the right direction and I knew what it looked like. We actually got directly there without any incident.
Natasha determined which window we were to go to and established us in the pecking order of all the people in the room. I noticed that they took a break from 13:00-14:00, and it was now about 12:30. I resigned myself that we would be there for some time. In the meantime, there was the application form, written in Russian, of course, that needed to be completed. Natasha took the form, asked the questions of me that I didn't have on any of my documents, and was about 2/3 finished when it was our time at the window. It was about 12:55.
The blond woman who I assumed yesterday was the supervisor was at the window. She asked for the documents one by one, and I was happy that I had everything she asked for. She took the application and wrote in a few things that were missing and indicated which others needed to be filled in. By now, it was well after 13:00 and I assumed that we would have quite a while to finish things up during their lunch break. Natasha kept copying away and I helplessly sat by. Another woman was now sitting in front of our window and she was asking my blond supervisor to process a stack of forms a couple of inches thick, presumably a set of visas for a group. We were finished with the form, so I took pictures of them for proof with my phone, to Natasha's amusement. Natasha interrupted while the new customer was signing the big stack (evidently, interrupting someone else who is getting service is also the thing to do here), and thankfully, my blond supervisor accepted my application and documents, stamped them with her stamp (a glorious sound I had been waiting for!) and told Natasha that I should return to collect the visa on Friday morning. Our train is scheduled to leave at 1:45. Nothing to do but wait. I feel so Russian!
Now it is Friday. I've been joking that if my visa doesn't come through, maybe I can get a job with a local folk show (read another post for that story). Yesterday, "I'll be home for Christmas" was playing while we were eating breakfast (lots of American music here, from all eras and genres), and I said maybe that would be my theme song. Masha had told me yesterday that she would be going with me to the "Unfomais" today, so I met her at 9:15, and off we went.
We took the Metro from the station nearest the hotel, and she seemed to be a bit surprised that I knew what I was doing. I knew that I could find the building, but once inside, I didn't know what to do. We arrived a little before 10, and Masha did the line dance to find out which line and where in the line we were located. Of course, our first line was not the right line, but that was sorted out fairly quickly. Natasha told me that it was open after 10, but apparently it opened at 9 and we were well down in the queue. Masha and I had quite a good talk about Russian alphabet, recent Russian history, the attitude of the Russian people toward the different recent eras, family structures, and more. After about 45 minutes, Masha did some more checking and found that there were a number of people in front of us. She didn't say so, but I think she was worried if I would get through in time. She did the Russian thing and pushed in while someone else at the window as signing documents and my favorite blond supervisor pulled over a stack that had my picture on top! I have never been so happy to see my face! I quickly signed where she told me to sign, took the precious greenish document, and stuck it safely away with my passport.
And we were off! It was about 11:00. On the way back to the metro, we stopped at a couple of stores to try and find a pesky USB cable that needed to be replaced to charge one of the cameras and get photos taken off, but still no luck. They were quick stops and we were soon back on the Metro for the hotel.
While I would not advise anyone to come to Russia and get your passport stolen, at least I had a chance to learn so much more about Russian life than I would have as a 'mere' tourist. I also really enjoyed the one-on-one time with my three guides, the Natasha's and Masha. But then again, maybe being just a tourist wouldn't be so bad!
There are some pictures of the police station, the Consulate, and other relevant sites on this adventure posted on the picasaweb site, in case you were wondering why they were there! Just be assured that I now have my visa and it is safely put away with my passport!!
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