Your Marriage Certificate?

I have already secured three Russian visas.  They are not easy to secure.   They want to know every company you’ve worked for, every country you’ve traveled to, can you use special weapons, have you ever been part of conflict as a combatant or a victim?  There are many ways to screw up your application.  If you put the letter before the number of the travel agency you used for your invitation letter, all can be revoked.  You have children?  Where are your birth certificates?  On line they say original invitation letters only.  But in fact the prints of scans are fine. 

I have gotten the visas or my two daughters and myself in Shanghai.  The facility in Shanghai is in a cavernous old building, thrown up in the thirties, I suspect.  You can get visas for Brazil and for Norway and seemingly limitless number of different lands t this building as well.  In Beijing there is a Russian visa center only serving up Russian visas.  It is located in a modern building where the metal detector looks a bit more imposing.

I take a number and I sit.  I should have everything I need.  I’ve been through this twice.  My time is tight and won’t have time to return.  If I leave it to my wife, I suspect there will be new challenges.  New frustrations.  My number flashes and I head to the counter where there is a glum, young women.  I smile and say pleasant things in Chinese and try my best to soften her up.  She softens.  But then she states the obvious: “This passport isn’t yours.”  “No.  As I explained, I’m submitting the visa papers for my wife.”  “Do you have your marriage certificate?”  “Huh?  No.  Look at the names.  We have the same last names.”  She goes to speak with someone else behind the door. 

The other guy returns with her and fortunately for me, he is Chinese, so I can say the equivalent of “come-onnnnn.”  It works.  They say they’ll go forward.  “But she will need to pick it up!” They intone.  “No worries.  You got it.  That’s the plan.”  She requests proof of insurance.  They specifically told me this was not needed in Shanghai.  Fortunately, I have a copy.  One of the dates on the form is wrong.  You have the wrong arrival date.  But we have established enough rapport by this point and she is willing to make the change herself on the computer inside.  She says she must run it all by another guy in the back, beyond. 

I wait.  A young man, who is glum in a Russian way, walks out.  He walks back in. I am glad I don’t have to negotiate with him.  I don’t know how to say “come-onnnnnn” in Russian.  Soon though the young lady who’d been helping me returns.  She has the faintest hint of a smile on her face.  “It’s approved.  Come back Saturday.  Make sure your wife comes.”  “You got it.  Thanks.  What time?”  “Come between two and four.  After that they’ll have to send it to you.  Monday is a holiday.”  I pay for the visa, get my receipt and photograph the place on my way out so that my wife knows exactly where to go this Saturday. 

Monday 6/04/18