August 26, 2004
slightly mafia-tainted machinations
It is July 13th, Tuesday Today, and I went for Goulat (walking) with my wife to the police station so that they could register me. But first we had to walk between the moon and New York City in order to get to the passport office to ask what has to be done to register me. The passport office – the employees of which regularly register numerous foreigners to Russia proper, from close, former federation countries like Kazakhstan, Uzbekistan and Tajikistan, said they don’t know about me because I’ a real foreigner from real far away, Canada.
The woman in the passport office gave us the number of the foreign affairs office in Ekaterinburg city centre. Meanwhile, we went to the police station and inquired about how to register me but as well to inquire about Dima’s passport renewal and how that will affect his residence permit. The policeman was somewhat surprised that we had come to his office to register, given that his office usually deals with registering crimes. Smiling sardonically, he asked my wife if we had a crime to register. She said thanks, no, and we took our leave. They too had no idea what we had to do to get me registered before we leave.
It’s apparently important though, because if I don’t register with the police, when I leave on the thirtieth of July, the immigration police will black-mark me as a foreigner that upset the Russian law system by not registering as a foreigner, even though the same immigration department has a file on me already contain things like a copy of the required official invitation letter my mother-in-law sent to me to come to visit her, and a copy of the three month Russian visit-visa granted to me in Dubai by the Russian consulate.
I made sarcastic remarks while walking with my wife, all the way home and she returned with: “Rowberrt, spikolsi! (Be still, be at peace, and relax) this is normal. You are in Russia now. Don’t worry we will find a way. We will try again tomorrow.” OK… What the hell ELSE am I supposed to say?!
Again, in the span of three years I am twice a complete foreigner (once in UAE and once in Russia), not knowing the language, the culture, or the customs. In this vacuum, the only thing else I really can say is that I am sure glad I am here with family who is Russian rather than simply some poor English speaking Canadian sod, on his own, who knows absolutely nothing about this huge and different country with all its post communist, post-perestroika, slightly mafia-tainted machinations and its altogether tough, tough history.
The woman in the passport office gave us the number of the foreign affairs office in Ekaterinburg city centre. Meanwhile, we went to the police station and inquired about how to register me but as well to inquire about Dima’s passport renewal and how that will affect his residence permit. The policeman was somewhat surprised that we had come to his office to register, given that his office usually deals with registering crimes. Smiling sardonically, he asked my wife if we had a crime to register. She said thanks, no, and we took our leave. They too had no idea what we had to do to get me registered before we leave.
It’s apparently important though, because if I don’t register with the police, when I leave on the thirtieth of July, the immigration police will black-mark me as a foreigner that upset the Russian law system by not registering as a foreigner, even though the same immigration department has a file on me already contain things like a copy of the required official invitation letter my mother-in-law sent to me to come to visit her, and a copy of the three month Russian visit-visa granted to me in Dubai by the Russian consulate.
I made sarcastic remarks while walking with my wife, all the way home and she returned with: “Rowberrt, spikolsi! (Be still, be at peace, and relax) this is normal. You are in Russia now. Don’t worry we will find a way. We will try again tomorrow.” OK… What the hell ELSE am I supposed to say?!
Again, in the span of three years I am twice a complete foreigner (once in UAE and once in Russia), not knowing the language, the culture, or the customs. In this vacuum, the only thing else I really can say is that I am sure glad I am here with family who is Russian rather than simply some poor English speaking Canadian sod, on his own, who knows absolutely nothing about this huge and different country with all its post communist, post-perestroika, slightly mafia-tainted machinations and its altogether tough, tough history.
