Bureaucracy is An Art form Over Here

So, first off -- Anya returned. Although she is unhappy and not talking, at least I know she is safe.

Today Nastia, Svetlana and I spent no less than 7 hours playing the Russian bureaucracy game. Ever tried it? It's incredibly all-consuming. You start by going to one building with a hundred forms and signed papers in hand, and they see how many other buildings and directors and passport agents they can send you to before  you scream "UNCLE!"  Today, the winner was.....RUSSIA again.

We went to the passport office and were there when it opened. Nastia signed a million papers for her "local passport" that miraculously appeared after the national news broadcast. As we go to leave --aha, they have something else up their sleeve! They do not like Nastia's signature! She must sign everything AGAIN!

Then we are off to the "home registration office" which is 40  minutes away by tram, and in a scary little building guarded by giant mud puddles and an angry dog. Svetlana warns us that the people here can be horribly rude. We prepare ourselves. We enter a tiny little room with deep squares in the wall where someone slides a piece of wood to the side to help you. ( Here is where a camera would have come in handy.) When we walk in , there are already no less than three people being yelled at nose to nose by three very unhappy government workers. I spend my time there praying for the toothless elderly woman in a threadbare coat and careworn face. When she finishes at her "square" she looks me straight in the eye and gives me a big toothless grin " Ah, such is life...they cannot help me once again!" she says and laughs her way out of the building. I'm sure her positive attitude is the only reason she has lived this long in this sorry place.

So, finally, it is Svetlana's turn to be yelled at. They cannot possibly help her either, she is told. But they play the game of taking an hour to say this, and have Svetlana fill out a few forms first, and then reject then, and THEN send us on our way. Now we must make our way to the head Police Station in Kemerovo, according to this government worker. " Only they can possibly help you, but I doubt it.." we are told.

Back on the tram for another 40 minute ride, and three changes, while standing out in below freezing weather....We walk a few blocks to what looks like Alcatraz....nope. It is the Police Station. We open the door we are sent to, and Svelana is yelled at and told to wait out in the hall. We wait and wait. Finally, we are yelled at to come in. " Well? What do you want?" the rudest woman in all of Russia barks at her. I'm thinking this woman is an addict of some sort because her hands are shaking and her eyes are red and she looks terrified and enraged at once. I want to take her picture so badly.

Svetlana explains everything and -- surprise surprise! -- we are told we cannot be helped again. A yelling match ensues with sweet little Svetlana getting louder and louder and the meanest woman in Russia trying to match her in tone, and Nastia yelling over both of them in Russian "ARE YOU KIDDING ME?" and  "THIS IS RIDICULOUS!"  and "WHAT DID YOU JUST SAY?"  I just got very zen and enjoyed the whole insane spectacle as best I could. Finally -- TADA! --Russia wins again and we leave without help, and are sent to yet another building.

So, our day went on like this until, out of sheer exhaustion, we gave up. At this point, we are being told that there is NO WAY for Nastia to get a new Russian international passport, UNLESS, Svetlana flies to Holland and gets her older daughter to sign a piece of paper allowing Nastia to be 'registered" at her apartment. Can you believe this? So, tomorrow Svetlana is going to get up her courage and call the Governor of Kemerovo. He called Anya in January and said he would help in any way he can.  Well, we need his help now. Lets hope he's still in a generous mood!

My fingers are tired, so I'll tell you about the rest of our day later tonight. Right now I want to go watch mindless Russian television and eat nutella.