What a circus

So, this story begins six weeks back when I suddenly realized that if I didn’t go to Russia soon, I might not make it this year at all. The delay in going to Russia when St. Petersburg is only a five hour train ride or one hour flight away is because the Russian tourist visa process takes 10 business days (this is after you’ve gone through the insane application and required documentation motions which I will get to later) and, as you know if you’re a consistent reader of my adventures, I have been traveling so often that I haven’t had a 10 consecutive business day period during which I could be without my passport. Knowing though that I had my biking trip in western Finland coming up when I could actually hand over my passport for 10 days and really wanting to go to Russia, I decided I better get on it and start the painful planning process.

To get into to Russia on a tourist visa you must have an “invitation” to the country, which can often be provided for a fee by your Russian hotel. In addition to this invitation, you may also be asked to show your hotel reservation and flight bookings before your visa is granted or even processed meaning you have to pay for your flights and oftentimes a deposit for your hotel before you have any idea if they will even entertain the thought of giving you a visa. This documentation must, of course, be provided with the tourist visa application form which requires that you provide the following information,
• Your name, planned places and dates of stay, and type of visa requested
• Your purpose for visiting the country
• Both of your parents’ full names
• Proof of valid medical insurance in Russia
• The names of any and all family members in Russia
• The dates of which you’ve ever previously visited Russia
• Whether or not you’ve ever been convicted of a serious or violent crime
• Whether or not you’ve ever served any time in the military or been part of any “battle”
• If you’ve ever contracted a serious communicable disease
• All the countries you’ve visited in the last ten years, including dates
• Your last two work positions before your current one
• The name, address, and phone number for every educational institution you’ve ever attended including degree attained and dates
• Admittance of any specialized chemical, weapons-related, or bio-hazard expertise

Having discovered all of this and realizing what a hassle it was going to be, I decided I’d make it worth the pain and go to both Moscow and St. Petersburg to try to get more bang for my visa buck (and the many hours spent navigating this horrendous process). So, I booked two sets of flights. I booked two hotel reservations. And then I started looking into the fine print of the tourist visa requirements.

First of all, you must have visa pages remaining in your passport to get a Russian visa. I grabbed my passport and, lo and behold, no visa pages left. (Basically no pages left!) Ok, so I would need to get more visa pages. A bit more of a pain but fine. I contacted the American Embassy in Helsinki and they could do additional passport page processing but that also took ten days during which I would also have to forfeit my passport. At the point at which I figured this out I already had less than four weeks total to get my Russian visa in addition to two weekends of international travel coming up during which I needed my passport.

Ok.

So then I decided that I better apply for a second passport so that I could use my old one for travel while I submitted the new one for Russian visa processing. Of course, getting the second passport also requires processing of up to ten days. As mentioned, I didn’t have 20 business days to start with at this point but I did have hotel reservations and two flights already booked. (And I thought I was so ahead of the Russian tourist visa game by booking them!) I started researching the second passport application processes and found the application online and, very importantly, the possibility of expediting the process. YES! I was so excited!

Well, I was excited until I found out that it could not be expedited for American citizens living internationally. Ugh.

So I spent one morning at work calling and emailing the US Embassy between client calls and team meetings, figured out exactly what I needed to do and provide, and managed to get an appointment with the consulate the next morning. I could have mailed everything in but because I was in such a rush and because I needed some “unofficial” expediting, I decided I better hand-deliver the passport and just beg. Beg and plead and cry if I had to.

I expected to arrive at a nice, normal office building the next day and be buzzed in by the receptionist where I would wait in a small, empty waiting room before being called in by the consulate to his nice, normal office. Instead, I arrived outside a heavily secured and gated building through the windows of which I could see four uniformed and armed guards. The doors were all locked and there was definitely no “service window.” I walked up to the door, looked confused, and one of the guards came out and asked me for identification. I showed him my passport, he checked my name off a list, and he walked back in the building without saying a word and leaving me standing locked outside.

I stood there and didn’t ask any questions.

Ten minutes later, the guard opened the door and called my name. I entered the building and they told me to turn off my cell phone. I turned them off (I have two) and they asked if my laptop was turned off. Yes, yes sir, it is. Then I had to go through the equivalent of airport security. Fine. When I went to pick up my bag on the other side of security, however, they told me that I wasn’t allowed to take it with me. I was instructed to remove only the documentation that I needed and leave everything else with the guards. Wow.

I was then escorted by one of the armed guards to another building in the gated compound. I thought, “Finally, I will get in to see the consulate and get this over with! I’m so happy I have an appointment!” The guard let me into the consulate’s building where we checked in with another guard who then opened the door to the waiting room…packed with probably twenty or so people all waiting to be called up to one of the small service windows. Not exactly what I expected!

My appointment got me called up rather quickly and I was prepared for this to become a battle…first to get my second passport approved (which isn’t standard), and then to get it faster than anyone else. I got up to the desk and began the pleading before the man behind the glass could even get a word in edgewise. I wanted him to know I was desperate before he told me no! “Hi. I am an American living in Finland for the year – I have a Finnish work permit – see?” I held it up and smiled trying to make sure the good, rule-abiding citizen vibe was coming through. I continued, “I am trying to get a Russian tourist visa and I travel a lot for both personal and work-related reasons and, as you know, the Russian visa process is rather restrictive and…” The man looked at my personal letter of justification for the second passport and interrupted me. “You are here for a second passport?” “Yes.” “Ok. Sit down and the consulate will call you up shortly.”

I waited for another ten minutes before the consulate called me up. I begin my speech again, “Hi. I am an American living in…” He cut me off with, “You are from Idaho Falls?” He had my passport open and was looking at it. “My aunt and uncle live in Idaho Falls.” Really?! “Really?! That’s so funny!” He laughed and said, “Yes, it’s a nice place.” I smiled as you do when anyone compliments your roots. He continued, “You need a second passport because of the Russian visa thing?” “Yes.” “Ok.” Really?! That was too easy, now the clincher, “I’m actually in a big hurry because…” “Yeah, your travel is coming up soon.” “Is there any possible way that I can get this expedi…” “You should email us at this email,” he scribbled the office’s email address on a scrap of paper, “next Wednesday. It should probably be here by then.” Really?! “Wow, really? That’s great!” He smiled. I smiled. Man, I love Americans. (Maybe you can tell I’m a little homesick!)

I had dropped the passport off on Wednesday, for a process that was supposed to take up to 10 days, and it was back the next Wednesday as promised. I emailed the consulate’s office and got a very nice phone call from one of the staff that afternoon telling me I could come pick it up. I went back through the security process with a smile on my face this time. These guys had made me a fan of the US Embassy in Helsinki! I picked up the new passport and planned to drop it off at the Russian consulate the next day which would actually give me a whole day buffer for that visa process. Had my second passport not arrived that Wednesday, I actually wouldn’t have been able to drop it off at the Russian consulate until Tuesday the next week (because of my trip to Norway and the onerous travel associated with it). I thanked my lucky travel stars and made sure I had all my ducks in a row for the Russian consulate.

I had heard crazy stories from some of the Finns about the insanely inefficient and burdensome Russian visa bureaucracy. One friend had his application turned down because when his black pen ran out mid-application he had the audacity to use a different black pen to complete the application. No dice, dude! They refused to accept his application and sent him away to do it again. I had only one shot to get this right and I was worried because of the stories, because of the lack of information, because of the incomplete or conflicting available information, and because I had tried emailing twice for clarification (receiving an auto-reply stating “we are too busy so will get back to you in several weeks” – super helpful, thanks!) and had tried calling a thousand times (two times out of a thousand I got through and two times out of two I was hung up on because the woman on the other end didn’t speak English). I got all my documentation together the night before…I had my application in duplicate, color passport pictures, copies of my flight reservations, copies of my hotel reservations, my “invitation” to the country, a copy of my international insurance and print out of the policy inclusions, a self-addressed stamped envelope, a copy of my Finnish work permit, my birth certificate, my high school diploma, my final will and testament…just kidding on the last three but you get the picture.

The Russian consulate’s office was open from 9am to noon for visa questions and I had to get it there that day or I wouldn’t be able to get it back in time for my trip to Moscow. I had a final readout with my client that morning from 8:30-11:30am so I was going to run out of the meeting, take a taxi to the consulate, and just hope and pray that nobody would be in front of me in line.

Thankfully, the Finns are very prompt so when 11:30am came our meeting ended as planned. I tried to hurry along the side conversations on my way out the door and hopped into a taxi with my team. They graciously offered to drop me off on the way back to the office and left me standing outside the enormous, intimidating, gated Russian consulate’s office. The partner on my case said, “I think this has got to be the biggest Russian Embassy in the world!” They drove away and I saw a sign in Russian over a door buzzer. Well, I guess this must be it! I rang the buzzer and a Russian man came back saying I have no idea what. “Hi! I am here for a tourist visa! Is this the door for the Russian consulate?” More indecipherable Russian mumbling with “visa” thrown in a couple times and then the door buzzed, I pushed my way through, and I was now officially on “the inside.” I stepped through another door and was in a very bare bones, only functional (what else would I expect from the former Soviet Union?) office. First point of business was to walk through a metal detector which I did and promptly set off. I stopped in my tracks waiting for some reaction from the guard sitting behind the bullet-proof glass encased desk. He didn’t even look up from his newspaper and waved me through.

I got in the line for non-Russian citizens (I figured this out because the two English words in the office were “visa questions” printed on a piece of paper over the window of one of the desks) and waited my turn. There was only one woman in front of me and after 15 minutes or so, it was my turn. I had all my documentation in hand and began, “Hello. Do you speak English?” I got a nod. “Ok. I am an American citizen living in Finland for the year – I have a Finnish work permit – and I would like to get a Russian tourist visa.” The woman behind the glass didn’t move but looked up at me over her glasses and said, “We don’t do visas for Americans.” Really? That’s strange, I thought, but maybe I got the wrong office. “Oh! Ok. Well, where should I go then?” Again, she didn’t move but just kept staring over her glasses and replied with, “I don’t know. Go to America.” Gulp. I blinked a couple times but persisted (having had done my homework), “I have a Finnish work permit. It is for longer than 90 days!” I held it up outside the glass to show her. The rule is that you must have a permanent residence permit for Finland or have a work permit for more than 90 days. She looked annoyed and waved my passport in through the window. She took a look at it and said something back to me in Finnish, I think saying that it wasn’t a permanent work permit. I smiled and said, “It’s for more than 90 days! More than 90 days!” She looked back down at it and then looked back up at me, “Do you have an invitation?” “Yes!” I passed it through. “Do you have a passport picture?” “Yes!” I passed it through. “Do you have your application?” “Yes!” I passed it through. She looked dejected but started looking them over. There was no excuse for her not to help me.

I had given her both my passports because she needed the new one with the visa pages for the actual visa but the old one to verify my work permit and my invitation (which is a legal document in Russia and contained my old passport number). I asked for my old passport back and she said, “No. I cannot give you. Your invitation has this number.” I just blinked. You have got to be kidding me. “But I got the new passport because I needed the visa pages. You can see that these passports are both mine. I am traveling to Norway tomorrow and I have to have identification.” She shrugged. “I cannot. Your invitation has this number on it.” “I am traveling tomorrow. Can’t you just verify that this new passport is the equivalent to the old?” She grumbled and pushed my papers aside and told me to go sit down and “wait for a little.” She would have to ask the “diplomat.”

So I sat and I waited…for 30 minutes, 15 minutes past noon when I thought they were closing so was getting increasingly nervous. I was just waiting for them to slam the window shut and tell me to come back tomorrow (which would have been too late!). Instead, I finally got called back up at 12:15pm and the woman at the window told me that the diplomat had said that they could make a copy of my old passport and process the visa for the new one. Great news! Thank goodness! I said, “Great! Thank you! Do you take credit card? Euros?” I was prepared. “No pay here. You must pay in the back!” Ok, no problem. “How do I get to the back?” She started babbling instructions a million words a minute. “No here. You must pay in the back!” Ok! I got it! Just tell me where to go! “Ok, but how do I get to the back?” She pulled out a photocopied scrap of paper and stapled it to my visa “invoice” and said, “We are here and you must go to back…down street here and here,” she marked the little map with her pen, “and then pay here. Bring me ticket back today after 14:00.” I finally got it…bank. I had to pay in the bank, not the back, which was about a kilometer away. UGH.

There was also no way I could come back there again later that day. My team and I were already working very long hours and even being away for this hour over lunch was going to cost me. “Can I go to the bank and pay now? And come right back? I can’t come back at 14:00. Can I come back right away?” The woman shrugged and said, “If you have time...you have 10 minutes.” It was 12:20pm and they closed at 12:30pm for lunch, meaning I would have to come back after 2pm if I didn’t wrap this whole thing up by 12:30pm. I grabbed the invoice and hauled tail out the gate. I was in work attire and shoes (thank goodness I wasn’t wearing heels!) and I walked as fast as I could to the bank. While the guy was debiting my account I packed my bag and got prepared for what was going to be a full on sprint back to the embassy. He handed me the receipt, I grabbed it with a “kiitos!!” and was out the door and running down the street before he could reply. I ran all the way back to the gate and hit the buzzer again, “Hello! I am back with my payment for the visa. The lady said to come back in! The lady said to come back in! I will only be a minute!” Unintelligible grumbling on the other end. “Money! Payment! Money for visa!” I was just trying to figure out some English word this Russian guard would know and figured “money” was a good bet. He replied, “No pay here.” Click. Dial tone…

Undeterred, I buzzed again. “Hi! The lady said to come back! I will be one minute! The lady told me!” Click. Dial tone…I figured this guy was either going to ignore me or was asking the woman if she had really told me to come back. I anxiously waited what seemed like forever (as the time before closing was ticking away!) but was probably only 30 seconds and the door buzzed open. I pushed my way through, went barging through the metal detector (of course, setting it off again and, of course, no reaction from the guard again), and ran up to the desk. I handed the woman my receipt and she gave me a slip printed with Russian instructions with a date hand-written on it, “You must come to me on September nine from 9 to 12 to pick-up. No other time.” I smiled, relaxed, took a breath and walked to the door…my ticket to Moscow was for September 10th – success! I pranced back out the gate to the street and looked at my watch, 12:28. I grinned.

Exactly ten days later I returned at 9am, receipt in hand, to pick up my passport. The line took a bit longer but 45 minutes later I had my passport in hand with an official Russian tourist visa…for a single entry. NOOOO! I was nervous that they would mess this up! The same woman I had dealt with before was at the window. I said, “This was supposed to be a double-entry visa. I’m going to Russia two times in these dates. Double-entry.” She grabbed the passport and pulled out my invitation. “Invitation says one…see?” She pointed to the word “single” typed under a Russian header (which I am pretty sure meant the visa was for one person, not for one entry). I said, “My application was marked for a double-entry. Do you have my application?” “Only invitation matters. Application no matter. I throw application away.” You have got to be kidding me. I continued, “I’m going to Moscow this weekend, coming back to Finland, and then going back to St. Petersburg next weekend. The invitation was supposed to be a double-entry invitation and my application was for a double-entry visa.” “This is your problem not my problem. It’s your fault that invitation is wrong. I sorry. If it is our fault then we fix it for free but it is your fault. I sorry.” I forced myself to stay calm, “Ok, I understand. What are my options now?” “You must get new invitation and new visa.” “I don’t have time for a new visa. I’m supposed to go back in one week.” She shrugged, looked genuinely sorry that she couldn’t help, and said, “I sorry. I cannot help you. You must explain to diplomat.” She pointed to a door behind me next to the guard. “You must explain to diplomat. I cannot help you.”

I said thanks and went to the guard desk. Before I could even get a word out he shook his head at me and then looked down. “Hello?” I said tentatively. “Do you speak English?” He shook his head. Ok, well that is a start whether he will admit to it or not. “The lady at visa questions told me to see the diplomat.” He shook is head and looked down. “She told me to see the diplomat. Can you let me in, please?” He shook his head and turned away from me. Now he was making me mad. I stepped to the right to get in front of him again, ducked down to where he was looking at the glass, tapped on the window, and said, “Hello?! Are you going to help me?! She told me to see the diplomat!” He just shook his head. I followed him when he turned again. “Then what am I supposed to do?!” He shrugged. I gave an audible, angry groan and stomped back through the metal detector, setting it off again. I was so frustrated! I could get to Moscow but not back for the St. Petersburg trip which would mean I’d have to cancel all my plans, reschedule everything, and worse, so much worse, go through this whole horrible process AGAIN. I was sick of Russia and I hadn’t even set foot in the country yet!

I got over the visa screw-up (and talked to the hotel who wrote the invitation who said it was filled out properly and that it was the visa application - the same one the consulate's office had thrown away - which dictated the number of required entries...so frustrating!) and just decided I’d have to go with the flow, play the ridiculous bureaucratic game, and do St. Petersburg later this fall. In the meantime, I had Moscow to contend with and I was excited! I left for the airport with my friend Laura from work who was joining me for the weekend and although we had left a few minutes later than planned and had hit a little traffic it didn’t really hit me that we were running quite late until we arrived at the airport and I saw the line to security…trailing down the entire length of the terminal entrance, past all the check-in counters, and clearly not very conducive to showing up 50 minutes before an international flight. I had just kicked off a new case that day which is my excuse for being a complete idiot…it hadn’t even occurred to me to check-in online (which I always do); I hadn’t consciously thought about the fact that we’d have to go through customs (the Russian Federation - literally and figuratively – definitely ain’t no part of the European Union!); I had left work too late for a domestic let alone international flight. No excuse. Laura, being much more prepared and responsible than me, had checked-in already so was ready to go. I told her to go ahead to security so that she didn’t miss the flight and I’d do my best to check-in and then run to meet her. I ran to one of the self check-in kiosks and pulled up my flight…but for some unknown reason the system wouldn’t allow me to check-in for this flight from the kiosk. I ran to the check-in line…and just kept running until I finally stopped before I’d even reached the end of it. There was no way I would make my flight if I waited in that line. The airport was a zoo and I now had less than 45 minutes. I ran back to the kiosk and grabbed the Finnair employee who was standing there helping passengers navigate through the system. “Hi! Hi! Can you help me? I am trying to check-in and it won’t let me!” I jumped through the screens to the final page which now informed me that I was too late to check-in at all. Ah! The man looked at the screen and said, “Oh. The 16:20 to Moscow. Let me see if I can get someone to check you in. Wait here.” He ran up to the check-in desks, talked to one of the men running the show, and waved me up…to the very front of the extraordinarily long line. He pointed to a “line” with one man standing in it, “Stand here. This is the line for late passengers.”

I was practically bouncing in place I was so anxious. I ran up to the desk when it was my turn and blurted out my information. The woman said, “I must call the gate and see if they will take you.” She overrode the system to check me in, called the gate who said they’d take me, and handed me my boarding pass without any judgment, “You are lucky. The flight is a little delayed. Go right to security and hurry!” I shouted my many thanks as I ran to security…which was yet another insanely long line. I’d never seen the Helsinki airport this packed and backed up. Again, I decided that I couldn’t wait in that line or I’d never make my flight. I ran up to the very front and jumped and waved and tried to get security’s attention. A woman walked over to me and I said, “I’m so sorry…I’m very late and the woman at the check-in desk sent me here. I need to get through security now or I will miss my flight!” Very much expecting a, “Tough beans, lady. That sounds like a personal problem.” I instead got a, “Come in right here,” as she lifted the barrier tape and pulled me through, “and go up to the front. Not there – in front of all of them.” I apologized gratuitously to the line and the guy right behind me said good-naturedly, “No problem.” I definitely didn’t deserve such kind treatment but was supremely thankful!

I now had 35 minutes before my flight left and all I had to do was get through customs. Phew! I was so relieved! I called Laura and told her that, miraculously and due to the very gracious and reasonable folks at Finnair and the Helsinki airport, I was already through security. I got up to the customs desk and was feeling great – I had narrowly escaped a potentially very big mess! The customs officer looked at my passport and ticket and asked, “Do you have a Russian visa?” “Yes!” I replied, confident and happy. He flipped through every page of my new (empty) passport and asked, “How long have you been in Finland?” “I have been here for almost nine months. I have a work permit but it is in my other passport.” “Can I see it, please?” Uh oh. “I don’t have it. I didn’t think I’d need it.” “Well, then how do I verify when you came into the country? You are only allowed to be here for 90 days without a permit. How do I know you’re not lying?” Gulp. “I’m really sorry! I didn’t want to bring both passports because I didn’t want to risk losing them both. I got this passport especially for the Russian visa and wasn’t thinking I’d need to show my work permit to get out of the country! I have a business card. I can give you my other passport number. Will that help?” “No. That will not help.” “Please believe me! I could have lied and said that I had been here less than 90 days but I told you the truth about my work permit. I’m really sorry.” He didn’t even look up, “I wouldn’t have believed you if you had lied because you have no entry stamp to Finland in your passport.” Fair point. “I’m really sorry!” What else can you say?

I had never even considered that I’d have a problem getting out of Finland when all my time had been spent worrying about getting in to Russia! He still didn’t look up at me but checked a few more things on his computer, flipped through my passport again, and finally – mercifully! – stamped my passport for exit. I said, “Thank you! Thank you!” as I grabbed my things and ran for the gate. Now I just had to hope they’d let me back in on the way home! What a disaster!

I found Laura by the gate and we laughed, her good-naturedly and me nervously. That was a close call! Laura didn’t want to go to Moscow alone, the hotel was in my name and on my points (meaning they wouldn’t have let her check in), and it had been such an onerous process just to get to go to Russia that I would have been kicking myself for months for missing it because of my idiocy. We had an uneventful flight over during which I was able to decompress about the very close (too close!) call.

We arrived in Moscow at 7pm local time and had been warned about the horrible customs process for getting in to Russia. I was told by a colleague who has recently done a lot of work in Moscow to be prepared for at least an hour in the customs line. Laura and I were mentally prepared to sit and wait and then – nothing – the line moved along smoothly and we were in and out in less than ten minutes. It was seamless! I was on the upswing now after the earlier mishaps and was excited to be in a new and pretty exotic country. I had been warned by so many Finns about Russia (to be fair, many of them hadn’t actually been to Russia themselves) that I was really expecting the worst. Instead, I found a fast customs process, a clean and easy-to-navigate airport (English signs everywhere), and no crazy and no corrupt yet – the two adjectives I’ve found to be the most used when describing Russia.

We took the train into the city where we then needed to switch to the metro to get to our hotel. We lugged our things out of the train and were suddenly in the real Russia…the one with absolutely no English signs, few decipherable letters let alone words (my full name became Андреа Луиза Остби on my tourist visa just to give you a flavor for how different the alphabet is!), and even fewer, if any, English speakers. Yikes! We had no idea what anything was, where we were (besides a dot on the metro map), or where to go. We followed the crowd, walked to another building next door thinking it was the metro station, and tried to figure out where we were going and how to pay to get there. Not an English word was posted anywhere and we couldn’t find our stop on the posted route map. There was a young girl manning a desk so we stood in lined and hoped for the best (i.e. an English speaker). “Do you speak English?” I asked when we got to the front. The girl shook her head and responded in Russian. We showed her the map and pointed to our stop. “Can you tell us how to get here?” She looked at it, mumbled some Russian words to her colleague in the next booth, looked at it again, and then her eyes widened and she said, “Ah! Metro!” She proceeded to overwhelm us with a barrage of Russian but pointed to the door and we figured out that we were in the wrong place. We turned around, walked out of the office, and tried to figure out how to find the metro. A random Russian woman seemed to appear out of nowhere while we were stopped and looking at our map(s) and waved us along to follow her. With no better options, we did.

We walked about 30 meters the other way and around the corner where the metro entrance was clearly signed. She walked in front of us and kept waving us along. We got to the turnstiles of the station and she walked to a big map posted on the wall, pointed to our stop, and then traced the route we needed to take with her finger. She pointed to the green line and counted three stops on her hands, held up three fingers to confirm with us that we had understood, then pointed to a transition point where we’d need to switch, and then counted one more stop on the new line. We laughed, said thank you a million times, and just as I thought she was going on her way she ran back to us and waved us forward to the turnstiles. She swiped her card over the sensor and indicated that I should go through and then did the same for Laura. She then swiped it again for herself and there wasn’t any money left on it…she waved us forward telling us to go ahead and held up three fingers and then one – don’t forget what I told you! We were dumbfounded. This woman had come out of nowhere, took us under her wing to get us to the right place, and then had even paid for us. How was she going to get home now?

We yelled thank you and proceeded down the long escalator down many floors. Just as we got to the ground floor the woman came pushing through the line of people on the escalator, tapped me on the shoulder to get my attention, and then jumped in front to lead the way. She waved us forward and to the tram line on our right, again counting up to three fingers and then one. This time she waved goodbye, smiled, and went the other way as we did the same. Amazing! Traveling really does restore your faith in people and, I have to say, this woman made me love Russia immediately. What an ambassador! I prefer to think about her rather than the consulate’s office…

The next day our first stop was the Kremlin which was literally across the street from our hotel and is, of course, a must-see for a first-time tourist in Moscow. The Kremlin isn’t just a building but rather a walled-off fortress within which are multiple cathedrals, chapels, and Russian state buildings. Our first challenge was just figuring out how to get into the Kremlin and navigating the overwhelmingly confusing types of potential tickets you can buy to see the various sites. There are three main types of tickets, 1) ticket to get inside the Kremlin walls and a few chapels, 2) ticket to “The Armoury” which is a pretty impressive museum of ancient Russian and Mongol artifacts including everything from medieval battle armor and weapons, the best of the Russian treasury (silverware, bejeweled frames and religious texts, gifts from other countries), the most famous of the Faberge eggs (amazing!), all the way to Catherine the Great’s wedding gown), and 3) the “Diamond Fund” which houses some of the biggest diamonds and other precious stones and jewels in the world. What made this so confusing was that almost nothing was posted in English and, if it was, was the most absolutely confusing and confounding English I have ever seen. I don’t remember what the three ticket types were officially called but they sounded significantly different from what I was able to figure out over the course of the day. We stood in line for a while (which even out of high-season was pretty long) and when we finally got to the front the woman at the desk who spoke minimal English told us that the bell tower tickets were gone (bell tower?), we needed to stand in another line for the Armoury, and something else unintelligible about general Kremlin access. We had been planning on getting into the Kremlin that morning to tour around and then catch the noon showing of the military procession with soldiers and horses out in the main square. When we asked about this she held up her finger and wagged it back and forth in front of us, “No today. No today.” She shook her head along with her finger. This performance is only held on Saturdays at noon so I asked her, “Why is it not happening today?” She shrugged and just repeated, “No today.” with a look that said, “I never thought to question it. They perform when they want to perform.”

We had happened upon the conglomeration of lines at the perfect time to catch the next Armoury slot (we also found out that this was restricted to only a certain number of people at a few specified times during the day for which ticket sales can only be purchased starting 30 minutes in advance at the actual Kremlin) so we jumped on that thinking we’d miss it if we tried later. After another 20+ minutes in line, we got back to the front to buy the tickets. I handed the woman my credit card and she shook her head and put her hands up. “No card. No card.” I paid cash through the same window on which was posted a picture of all accepted credit cards…I was beginning to learn that in Russia nothing is as it seems (or is advertised) to be!

We walked around the Kremlin walls to get to the entrance of the Armoury and found yet another line, this time for security. We had been warned that they would not let you bring any bags or purses into the Kremlin so had already limited what we had with us to what could fit in our jacket pockets but now even that had to be pulled out and placed on a tray while we went through a metal detector. We got through Kremlin security and then got in another line 50m from the last one, this time for the Armoury ticket check and security. (Had we not been warned about the no bags rule we would have had to stand in yet another line to check bags.) We battled some French tour groups who kept trying to weasel their way in front of us – Croatia was the final straw for me with respect to Europeans cutting in line so I have zero tolerance for this at this point – and after another 20+ minutes got through this line. We finally got in to the Armoury and, despite the ridiculous lines and bureaucracy we had to endure to get there, it was totally worth it and really impressive. The Faberge eggs were one of the best parts and were really just amazing. These eggs are really works of art and had some amazing things inside them which were sometimes even more impressive than the beautifully elaborate eggs themselves. One egg had an exact replica of the Standart yacht inside made from gold and platinum and was an Easter gift from Czar Nicholas II to his wife Alexandra in 1909. (The first Faberge egg was a gift from Czar Alexander III to his wife Maria in 1885 and is believed to have been a 20th anniversary gift.) I also really loved the room with both royal and civilian clothing from throughout the centuries. Catherine the Great’s wedding dress was absolutely beautiful but the waist on it was smaller than one of my legs. That dress didn’t look like it would fit anyone in today’s world! Somebody else must have had the same thought because as I was standing there looking at it in awe I overheard a tour guide saying that Catherine was only 16 when she got married and that at the time they used corsets which could half the circumference of your waist. OUCH. That really can’t be good for you! There were also some boots which had belonged to Peter the Great and were actually made by Peter himself…intentionally multiple sizes too big to disguise his tiny feet. (I guess he wasn’t that big of a guy and his feet were smaller than mine!) Small man’s complex is apparently cross-cultural!

We spent a couple hours in the Armoury before they kicked us out and we had to stand in yet another line and buy yet another ticket to get into the Kremlin grounds. We were smarter this time and asked the woman selling tickets if we could get into the chapels and cathedrals. She told us we needed another type of ticket to get into those. Clearly, of course we do. What a silly question. We got the tickets, got back in another security line, and finally were in the Kremlin with access to the grounds. The Kremlin is a really interesting mix of very modern-looking communist-style state buildings and then some very old and beautiful chapels with the quintessential Russian onion domes on top in gold. The chapels themselves were pretty amazing and very Russian-style in that they were completely over the top with gold, intricate wood carvings, and frescoes painted on very flat or even marginally flat surface possible.

Even though the many buildings were very different styles and made in different centuries, the one consistent observation about them all is that they were enormous. Absolutely enormous. I have never seen so many big buildings in one place but as the biggest country and one which has historically tried to establish itself as the strongest they have succeeded in my mind with creating the most intimidating city of enormous buildings I’ve ever seen! I first noticed it at the Kremlin but only continued to confirm it over the rest of the weekend.

We had initially thought about going to a Russian ballet at the very famous Bolshoi Theatre in Moscow but as the Bolshoi is undergoing extensive renovation, we had to think of other good cultural options for the evening. There was Moscow opera, the Russian symphony, and…the Russian circus! We ended up opting for the circus and so headed back to the hotel after a full day of Kremlin touring to get ready to go. We were only about four kilometers from the circus but thought we’d take a taxi just to make sure we got there (not lost!) on time for the show. We had an hour before the circus began and Laura asked if we should book a taxi. I looked at her and said, “No way. If we call a taxi now it will be sitting outside waiting for us in five minutes and we’ll have to pay to have him wait. I’m sure the concierge can just call us one when we get downstairs and are ready to go.” What I didn’t say but was thinking was, “It’s probably a 10 minute ride and we have an hour. Relax!” We got to the lobby with 25 minutes until show time and asked about a taxi. “Oh, you will not have time to get a taxi. I can call them for you but it will take them 30-40 minutes to get here.” What?! How can that be possible?! I asked, “Really?! What are our other options then? We have to be there in less than half an hour.” “We have a car service at the hotel.” Phew! I was thinking, ok, no problem. Just get us a car already! I don’t care if it is a taxi driver or a hotel driver! “We have a one hour minimum for hotel car service.” Uh oh. “How much?” I asked. “1,600 rubles.” (About $50) What?! Laura looked at me and very graciously didn’t say the fully deserved, “I told you so.” I looked at the woman and said, “Fine. We don’t have another choice.” I looked at Laura, “I’ll pay for it since it’s my fault we didn’t schedule one earlier. I should have listened to you!” That taxi ride cost me the same amount of money as my ticket to the circus! Laura told me that I was much too optimistic about how things would run in Russia…as a Finn you know to always assume the worst!

Laura is from eastern Finland and her father has done quite a bit of business in Russia, just over the Finland – Russia border. She said that she learned from him to not expect the status quo from Russians. Her father was once told by the Russian border guards, “This will be your last trip into Russia f you don’t bring a baseball jacket with you next time!” (This was during the 1990’s when American MLB jackets with leather sleeves were all the rage.) Up until that point he had been able to appease them with various kinds of western treats including certain kinds of soda which were not available in Russia. At least when I think of Russian border deals I envision weapons or drug smuggling not necessarily Dr. Pepper and Yankees jackets! Laura told me that her father also had his passport stolen multiple times…by the Russian border patrol. They’d search is vehicle, give him the all clear, and then tell him, “I think I have something you might want.” and hold up his passport. He then always asked how much they wanted for it and paid up. That’s apparently just the way you do things in Russia. After this and many other confirming stories, my survival tips for Russia are 1) make sure you have cash on you, 2) don’t question Russian authority, and 3) don’t assume anything works the way you think it should!

The Russian circus is pretty famous worldwide and now after having gone I can at least say that this is no circus you’ll ever see in the United States so you better see it in Russia! It was pretty standard fare as far as circuses go…acrobatics, amazing trained animals, contortionists, clowns, and even some exotic cats, but everything was “Russian-appropriate” meaning it might not fly anywhere else! The acrobats were supremely talented but there was this strange undertone in all of the acts…of troubled relationships between a man and a woman. Multiple acts involved a woman acrobat (often wearing an outfit bordering on lingerie) doing amazing acrobatic feats with her male co-star…in between bouts of pushing each other around or dominating one another in some other way. It was very bizarre. On top of that, every woman in the show (except for one of the main clowns) looked and acted like she was heading to a second job in the red light district after her the circus was over. Laura said this was also typical of Russian culture in which women really only have one important role to play in society. (I have heard this from multiple people, including Russians, but thought it interesting that it came out in a circus of all things.)

There were also multiple acts involving animals. In one, a woman was pulled from the audience and led into a box on stage where she was given a fur coat. She walked out of the box in a full length fur coat and then one of the clowns pulled a string which was sticking out from it on her shoulder. The coat then disintegrated before our eyes into a wriggling, squirming, moving mess of about 70 live ferrets which, when the string was pulled, were released from being held upside down by the tail and started running off stage as they had been trained. I have to say that the woman didn’t look too happy when this happened and the nature of her “coat” was revealed. (The audience thought it was a hoot!)

Then there were the poodles which were probably the best act of the night. They had about ten giant poodles, groomed to within an inch of their lives in ridiculously exaggerated puffs and skinny legs, which had been trained to dance with one another while “holding paws” and standing on their hind legs. They could also walk on their hands, jump rope with the clown, and do perfectly coordinated acrobatics with the other poodles. It doesn’t sound like it from my description but they were incredibly talented and really entertaining. Just when I thought I couldn’t laugh any harder, they unleashed another herd of toy copycat poodles groomed exactly like their much bigger counterparts. At one point we had giant poodles walking in a circle on their front paws while tiny toy poodle copies jumped sideways over them. This was probably my favorite act of the night but I was a bit troubled by the clowns poking and prodding the poodles with sticks. (They didn’t seem to be hurting them but I didn’t like it anyway!)

When we got back from intermission the stage was encased in a big net and I was thinking that they must be bringing out the trapeze acrobats. I was wrong. That flimsy net was there to “protect” the audience (some of us literally only a few meters away) from the big cats…there were four smaller ones with a couple pumas, a cougar, and a cheetah and then there was a tiger and two lions. Managing this menagerie was another woman (dressed like an adult video version of Jane of the Jungle) and man in yet another troubled relationship (lots more pushing each other around between bouts of seduction and tiger taming). They had whips and sticks which they used on the animals to get them to jump from podiums, walk over a tiny bridge, and perform other random tricks. The cats were pretty unwieldy and not very well-behaved. They were constantly growling, baring their teeth, jumping off their podiums out of turn, and clawing at their trainers. It was a little unnerving. (Also unnerving was the fact that there were a few scattered circus employees standing on the periphery of the nets with sticks to poke the animals back toward their podiums when they got too close to the audience. Yikes!) The lions acted liked they were drugged, lying down listless on their podiums while the small cats performed. At one point Laura said, “That one looks like he had too much to drink.” and nodded toward the biggest lion whose head was hanging off the podium between his paws which were also hanging off and sticking out to the side, like he’d been dropped on the podium flat on his belly. As we were watching I kept catching a whiff of a really bad smell, like really bad dirty animal breath. I finally realized that was exactly what I was smelling – really bad dirty animal breath! We had good tickets but I was still 20 meters away and those animals stunk! I was glad I had opted out of the best seats down front…the extra money would have bought me a live ferret coat and enough bad animal breath to make me gag! Despite the bad breath, I would highly recommend the Russian circus as a totally worthwhile (and surprising!) cultural experience, even if a bit disconcerting at times!

The next morning we stopped for breakfast at a little café and about five minutes after sitting down, a man at another table jumped up and knocked over another nearby table as he ran down the street. Our waiter had been looking out the window at the time and immediately became very concerned. He forgot about our order and ran outside to talk to the man’s young son who was left sitting at the café. He then came back in and we asked him what had happened. He told us that the man outside had put his camera on the table and as he and his son were eating breakfast a “very poor man” grabbed the camera from the table as he walked by and ran away with it. Having heard many stories about the prevalence of guns in Russia and after the man still hadn’t returned after 15 minutes, I think we all started to become a little concerned, most especially his son. Suddenly, the boy jumped up and smiled as he saw his father walking back to the café. The waiter ran back out to get the story and then, again, came running back in to relay it to us (he was very excited about this whole ordeal). The man had chased the thief down the street and caught him, then dragged him to the nearest police officer who arrested him. The man got his camera back and returned unscathed. The waiter said, “Sorry for the bandit. The man with camera is arm wrestling champion in US!” Yeah, seriously, what luck! He should have tried to take my camera, not the arm wrestling champ’s! I looked out the window and the man had on a t-shirt which stated proudly, “USA arm wrestling champion.” Bummer, bandit. If there was ever a time when English language skills would have come in handy, this was it!

We spent the day exploring more of the must-sees in Moscow, in particular the Red Square (Красная площадь) and St. Basil’s Cathedral (Собор Василия Блаженного). The Red Square is really very cool to see in person since it is such a well-known place and has had such a part in history. (I think everyone has probably seen the videos of Russian tanks crossing the square in 1941 on their way to the front lines and again in the Victory Parade in 1945 in celebration of the defeat of the Nazis.) In times of peace, the Square is used for other things…namely to entertain hoards of tourists and provide a large space for concerts. St. Basil’s cathedral which borders one side of the Square is the antithesis of the Red Square. The Square itself is stately, serious, and commanding with huge, beautiful, respectable buildings on three sides. On the fourth side St. Basil’s literally seems to jump into the picture, a random, crazy, asymmetric, overdone mass of swirling color and golden domes (apparently built in the shape of the flames of a bonfire). It is beautiful itself, don’t get me wrong, but it is so starkly different from the rest of Moscow that it feels as though it got dropped into the city from above as a message to the Russians that maybe they shouldn’t taken themselves so seriously.

The most bizarre must-see in Moscow is Lenin’s Mausoleum (Мавзолей Ленина) in which Vladimir Lenin’s embalmed body has been on display since his death in 1924. There has been talk that he will (finally!) be buried so despite thinking that this was a really weird tourist site, I figured I should go before it was no longer an option. To get to the tomb we first had to wait in a long line to get access to the security area. Then we had to wait in the bag check line (we hadn’t been warned about this one.) After that, we stood in the security line. A full hour and three lines later, we finally got in to the mausoleum area. After walking through a rather nicely done graveyard and monument for important political and military officials, we were led to the actual mausoleum which is a one story marble building on the edge of the Red Square. I walked in to the very dark hallway encased in marble and saw a Russian military officer standing very solemnly at the end of it. As I approached him, he extended his left arm out at the elbow in an almost robotic gesture telling me to turn right. (I was in a one-way marble hallway with no other options so there wasn’t really a need for directions.) I then continued down another even darker marble hallway and saw another officer at the end of this one as well, eerily standing under a very low light in an otherwise completely dark hallway. This one turned his head slowly to the left to point me in the correct direction. (Again, no directions needed when no options exist!) I then started down another even darker hallway at the end of which was yet another stoic officer. This one gave one quick nod to the left to keep me on track. (I was beginning to think I was on Russian candid camera or something and the next officer would spring into a side kick or give me a directional nose wiggle!) After another couple turns and another couple guards I was in the room with Lenin. Well, he was lying peacefully in a glass casket in the middle of the room while I walked around him (and got the guards all ruffled because I had one hand in my pocket which is apparently not allowed). That man has been dead and on display for over 85 years! He looked like a wax museum replica which is a terrible thing to say but, seriously, bury him and let him rest in peace! I spent about two creepy minutes with Lenin before walking out the other side of the room and down another few scary halls with more Russian officers giving me strange signals. (I was tempted to give the last one a wink and a jumping click of the heels to see if I could get a reaction out of him but thought better of it.) I was probably inside the building for less than five minutes total and I was happy to get out! It was definitely something to see but “interesting” is probably the best I can give it.

We finished up the day with a very good and very traditional meal at a restaurant serving specialties from Georgia and Azerbaijan. Nobody who worked in the place spoke any English but we lucked out when another patron overheard our struggles with the wait staff and intervened to provide his very much appreciated translation services. We raced back to the hotel, got our things, and began the trip back to the airport, this time much smoother than the arrival since we knew what we were doing. Now trusting that things wouldn’t work as I was used to, I readily agreed to get to the airport very early for our flight. We left our hotel three hours before take-off and checked-in right as they opened the desk for our flight which was two hours before. (I don’t think I’ve ever been to the airport that early for a flight!) We’d had an uneventful trip to the airport, check-in was a breeze, and now we just had to get through customs…

About an hour and 15 minutes later and after fighting off some more Russian line-cutters, we finally made in through and onto our plane. It had been a great weekend and much too short in my mind but Laura’s comment as we waited for take-off was, “There are three kinds of cities you visit - those that are were not worth the trip and you wonder why you ever went, those that you loved and vow to visit again, and those that are interesting but for which once is enough. I am happy I came so I can check off that box but I will feel much better when we land in Finland!” I, on the other hand, thought Moscow was great and would love to go back. It’s modern, urban, historical, interesting, cultural, vibrant, unique, and, at least to me, very exotic (if for no other reason than the crazy alphabet!). I guess Laura’s comment stems from the fact that you just can’t rewrite a reputation overnight (or over weekend in this case) and Russia’s neighbors feel its still intimidating presence very strongly. (Another Finn who has never been to Russia warned me before I left to be careful because the Russians had submarines in the Barents Sea which they were using to test nuclear missiles…he followed that with a prediction for WWIII in 2020.) In a world where most countries are converging toward an almost too similar middle ground, Russia has continued for various reasons to remain rather removed. From a travel perspective, it was a refreshing if much more difficult to navigate change so I hope the country keeps at least part of its renegade status going forward. And I’m going to St. Petersburg despite the circus that they call a tourist visa process. That alone should tell you just how much I enjoyed Moscow!