The epic tale started in mid-April, we had booked flights to Saint Petersburg and confirmed reservations with the Hermitage Hotel. Normally, (for most trips anywhere) this is where the proceedings end - you board a plane and waltz into your destination (city/country). However, when it comes to Russia, this is barely scratching the surface. The easy part is over. From here on out will be arduous and painful, like Rocky's and Ivan Drago's workout routines from Rocky IV.
Enjoy nearly eight minutes of cinematic brilliance
Once the flight and accommodation have been booked, you must request the hotel (or travel agency/company) write a letter (of invitation) sponsoring your visit to the Federation. This is required for each person, no two-for-one convenience here - in fact, everything will be inconvenient from this point forward. After obtaining the sponsor letter(s), you must complete an online questionnaire that will make you wonder if you are applying for a tourist visa or a top-secret security clearance. Before proceeding to the online steps, ensure that your health insurance is covered in Russia, if not, you will be denied entry (otherwise, apply for traveler's insurance).
The questionnaire may or may not include some of the following questions:
1) Employer Name; Address; Phone Number; Person of Contact, Email, and Phone Number...for the last decade
2) Describe your life in 35,000 words or more.
3) Parents' Names; Address; Phone Number; Maiden Name (if applicable); Favorite Salad Dressing, Horological Sign; High School Algebra Grades, and Closest Celebrity Resemblance
4) Disclose any/all livestock wrangling experience. (Have none? Start learning.)
5) What is the appropriate cooking time for baked milk? (The answer is eight hours. You're welcome)
After the online form has been completed, continue to schedule an appointment at your local Visa Handling Service or VHS - a facility whose acronym is fittingly synonymous with the outdated video technology. My first appointment was scheduled for April 15th at 10:00, allocating enough time required for the passport forfeiture (ten business days (normal), or three business days (express), also account for Holidays, domestic and Russian) before our next trip to Lucca, Cinque Terre, and Pisa. The closest VHS center is located in Frankfurt am Main, generally an hour and a half drive. Unfortunately, on the 15th, it took three hours, making my two and a half hour buffer futile (the drive was identical to the opening scene of Office Space).
Before my trip, I found a parking garage only a few blocks away from the VHS and within walking distance. Little did I know, the garage was located on Depraved Straße (well, maybe it was Moselstraße). Due to the lengthy drive, I had missed the first of my two scheduled (15 minute) appointments. That didn't seem to be too big of a problem because I was there for all of ten minutes. After leafing through the packets for Julie (I was there on her behalf, required a signed consent form to do so) and myself, the employee said that one wasn't signed and could not proceed. I asked if I could sign for Julie, as I was already there on her behalf; but, that was resolved with an immediate and stern, "No."
Three hours in a car, ten minutes in a building, and one huge failure.
I walked back to Moselstraße and parsed my way through the catatonic heroin-addicts zombie-shuffling down the sidewalk. I am absolutely sure of the heroin use because I passed a man squatting on the pavement behind three mini bottles of vodka placed in an almost ritualistic fashion. He was hunched over with a bent spoon in one hand and a lighter in the other - the syringe placed within the triangle of vodka minis - a lovely sight at 10:30 in the morning. (Non-sequitur. I never liked the old commercial of your brain on drugs being the portrayed as an egg frying in a pan. The egg representing the brain makes little sense; the unfertilized gamete is useless on it's own and will spoil if left alone. The frying pan represents drugs, yet, a skillet is a cooking tool that has many practical applications. Therefore, my brain seems to be barren without drugs...? I digress... Regardless, this Wednesday morning junkie had an entirely different understanding of the commercial, "Drugs. they're what's for breakfast.")
I didn't stick around for the addict's balanced buffet, plus, I was miserable from the long drive and frustrated about being denied our tourist visas. When I pulled out of the parking garage, there was a police paddy-wagon that had cracked down on the local fringe populace.
Lesson learned: any amount of time spent in Frankfurt is too much time spent in Frankfurt.
Fast Foward two weeks.
For my second appointment, there was just enough time to relinquish our passports for the allotted ten business days before our trip to Zadar, Krka and Plitvice Lakes. Also, we were able to go back online and amend a few clerical errors that would prove costly otherwise - the VHS charges €5 for each correction. If you believe you made no mistakes, the VHS will find something and provide an illogical, time-wasting explanation to make certain there are errors. For example, I had to further explain my current "unemployed" career status. Nonetheless, I had everything in order, but when I got about halfway to Frankfurt am Main, I had to turn around due to an unexpected event that required our immediate return to the States.
Fast Forward another two weeks.
The time has come, the last scheduled appointment would make or break our trip to Saint Petersburg. The notion is disconcerting because everything must be paid in advanced before a visa can be approved. Everything started out great, I was able to coast into the city without any traffic - an unexpected convenience. Due to the shady happenings near the garage on my first visit, I was able to find another nearby location. Sadly, my new option was the only garage in the city that was full. Thus, I had to return to Heroin Avenue - still crawling with the usual suspects. It was 11:00 and the zombie horde was already in full stupor, milling around in unknown polygonal trajectories.
My early arrival found an an empty office with no wait, another surprising convenience. I had all of our paperwork organized, signed, and ready to go. I explained to the female employee, due to the time restraints (flight in 8 days) I would need to apply for the express service. There were no issues until the worker came across Julie's signature. Apparently, Julie's application signature was not identical to the one on her passport. Then, she explained that I would have to sign a form (of which was entirely in German) stating that I am submitting the application knowing the signature is different and the Russian Consulate reserves the rights to deny entry and keep the fee. Augmenting the consternation was the price of the express fee, €235 - each.
We had no option, but to apply and wait and see. We were already bound with the cost of the flight and hotel; another €470 on the line only made sense in this nightmare of a process (the money we thought we saved from the low fares has long been eviscerated). Three days later and another awful drive to Frankfurt am Main, I finally had good news, we had both been granted our tourist visas.
In the end, it was one hell of a circus; forty-seven days to get thirty-day tourist visas, not to mention (but really mention) a Scrooge McDuck-sized fortune to obtain. One thing is for certain. Russia better be worth all the ridiculousness.
Scrooge McDuck swimming in the Russian Visa Handling Service Vault
(appropriately accompanied by Tchaikovsky's Waltz from Swan Lake)
(appropriately accompanied by Tchaikovsky's Waltz from Swan Lake)
Also, I hate Frankfurt.
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