A Day in the Life of the Soviet Union - Updated Twenty Four Years .......

[jone]

When I was growing up, I used to read novels and non-fiction books about how the Soviet Union worked.  I loved those books. Every clerk had a big stamp.  Unless you did things exactly right, they would send you to the back of a long line that stretched into oblivion.  Well, I have a story to tell.  It is both tragic and funny.  It begins with me escaping Russia just in time to honor my Tourist Visa.  I had to be out in 30 days.  My woman and I were in Chelyabinsk, her original home.  She had relatives that would watch our little one, and so, we escaped, as it were, over the border into Kazakhstan.  Now I'm not superstitious, but I had this strange premonition that arriving into Kazakhstan was like hopping out of the frying pan, into the fire.  Not that we noticed anything unusual when we crossed the border.

We had hired a car (taxi) to make the trip.  It was only 5000 Rubles.  That included the border crossing and delivery to the hotel of our choice.  Off we went.  What fun.  The trip was about five hours.  We arrived at the border late at night.  After quickly getting stamped out of the Russian Federation, we arrived at the border guard.  They asked me questions in Russian about why I wished to go to KStan.  I guess this isn't a popular tourist destination.

In any event, we called ahead to one of the nice hotels in the city of Kostanay.  It is in the Northern part of Kazakhstan.  And upon our arrival, we quickly deemed the room too small.  So we took the grand suite for a whopping total of 11,000 Tenge per night.  That translates into about $42.00, cheaper than the cheapest Motel 6 in California.  The mini bar was quickly raided and we walked the dogs and snuggled the night away.  What a fun time!  Years from now I will remember the initial time spent in KStan as one of my fondest memories. 

The hotel, while appearing as a block rectangle, had many amenities an exquisite cook and we quickly opted to order in room service (often).  It also had a banya, a small pool and and a miniature golf course.   After catching up on sleep the first night, we explored the city and found it to be just what we needed:  Around 200,000 people and very, very clean.  Especially compared to Russia.  It is in the Steppes and when the wind doesn't blow it is quite pleasant.

(I would like to make a note that while Russia hasn't seemed to really invest in infrastructure in the years since the fall of the Soviet Union, KStan has.  I will get into that later in the trip report.)

Here are some initial pictures of Kostanay. 

Ostrov Hotel:



Our Suite:

[ML]

I always hate those beds with just one layer of mattress.
Back killers for sure.

[jone]

Welcome back to my life in KStan.....

So here I am in Kostanay.  I'm here because Kazakhstan has 15 days waiver on a visa if you are from the United States (and some other countries).  I have spent some time getting to know the city.  For being only around 200,000, it hosts many activities and seems to be the focal point for much of northern Kazakhstan.  A couple of notes:  1.)  The local currency is called the Tenge.  It is around 275 Tenge to one US Dollar.  The Tenge is attached with a long string (or better yet, a noose) to the Ruble.  As the Ruble fell, so did the Tenge.  Although KStan has much foreign investment right now and Russia does not.  2.)  There are three languages on most signs here.  The first is Kazak.  The second is Russian.  And, if so inclined, the third is English. 

My fiancee has visa issues that we are trying to get resolved in Chelyabinsk, and, ultimately, Yekaterinburg.  She disappeared across the border leaving me with the doggies and a suddenly empty hotel room.  Never one to be lonely, I set out trying the local cuisine.

I have never subscribed to Horse Meat.  Dunno why.  I guess it was always something that was disdained when I grew up so I will not willingly eat it here.  But horse meat is the national dish of KStan.  I have made the rounds of restaurants around here and my favorite dish is Lamb Shashlik.  I'm sure I have a picture around here somewhere of one of my meals.  Of interesting note:  We were out to supper on a Friday night.  There was no one in the place but us and another couple.  A saxophone player goes on stage and begins playing with piped in music as an accompaniment.  We did enjoy the music.  But when dinner was over, the bill came, there was a fee on the check for live music.  N says that this is not uncommon in these parts.  Although they normally give you advance notice.

I have 15 days in KStan.  We are already plotting my get away to the US.  I can't go back through Russia because I now have used up the thirty days on the visa and I did not have a double entry visa to begin with.    The plan is for me to take the dogs and rent a driver and car down to Astana, the capital of KStan.  It is a six hour + drive, but I am up for it and so N begins looking in the local paper for drivers. 

(I should point out that before we decided on this course of action, we went to the train station to inquire. The lady saw my dogs and said that I would have to rent an entire compartment on the train.  It turned out to be 41,000 Tenge.  Then, when I did not begrudge her that fee, she changed her mind and said that I would also need to pay four times that to rent out the compartment.  I did not have 'sucker' written on my forehead this day, so we decided to go the car route.)

N found a driver.  32,000 Tenge for the trip.  I go down to Astana on Saturday, hop on the plane, and will be in Abu Dhabi and then home.  N will follow once everything is resolved on the visa front.  If it drags out for her, I will hop back on the plane, sans the dogs and drag her home.  Off in the car we go.  The driver is a nice guy.  Fairly young and a terrible toupee.  But, he has St. George ribbons adorning his car.  I'd like to think we could avoid the political discussion, but not my luck. 

In recent days, I have discovered that there is a true undercurrent here in KStan.  While people of Russian descent make up 40% of the urban population, Russians are not well liked.  N commented on it a couple of times when we went out to dinner.  So I asked various people on my trip if that were true.  While I received varying answers, I can report that in general it does appear to be true.  The undercurrent is the idea of the St. George ribbons and a possible re-unification into Sov Union 2.0.  I asked about that today and was told that the Kazaks will NEVER let that happen.

So, after six hours of driving we arrive in Astana.  I would like to point out that the designer of the first three hours of the highway we drove used a washboard as his model.  My butt is sore from being bounced up and down.  There is nothing (and I mean NOTHING) for hundreds of kilometers.  The driver would quickly swerve to avoid pot holes and washouts.  I did not mind this as I imagined what it would feel like to break an axle out here.  The thought was pretty grim.  We drove through a couple of abandoned cities.  My guy,  Alexi, told me that they were cities where people were forced to live.  When the Sov Union broke up in '91, everyone scattered.   The closer we got to Astana the better the roads became.  Finally, we were on a two lane highway that you could imagine connecting Omaha to Des Moines.   Only it was two lanes instead of four.

More after I post some pics.

[Slumba]

Jon, could those abandoned cities possibly be one where the Volga Germans were shipped off to?  IIRC Stalin didn't trust the people with Volga German background, so forcibly relocated them to KZ, where they would be far from any ability to assist invading Germans.

Then when Germany allowed them, over 1 million KZ residents that could prove some sort of connection to Germany, left KZ and went to Germany.

[Larry1]

I have never subscribed to Horse Meat.  Dunno why.  I guess it was always something that was disdained when I grew up so I will not willingly eat it here.  But horse meat is the national dish of KStan.  I have made the rounds of restaurants around here and my favorite dish is Lamb Shashlik. 

You are in the area where man first domesticated horses. You owe it to yourself to try horsemeat while you're in Kazakhstan.

Lamb shashlik is my favorite too. I first had it at a small Afghan restaurant outside Washington, D.C., and it blew me away.

[ML]

Jon, did you meet Borat there in KStan?

[jone]

Slum -

Don't know if those were the same cities, but I believe not as they were not abandoned until 1991.

Larry -

I will keep my palate free of Mr. Ed

ML -

I have already met Borat - and he has met me.

[mendeleyev]

Jone, nice report!

Horsemeat is very sweet, great in stews and roast beef type dishes, but in my opinion too sweet for gamburgers.

I don't know either about the German connection to some abandoned town, but it is certainly possible. I do know that many such towns were built specifically to serve some factory, a mine operation, or some other agricultural or industrial project. In some cases the chemical waste from some operations were ignored by the Soviets and with the breakup of the Union, as operations closed many families fled when they no longer had to live in such conditions for employment.

[JayH]

Jon, did you meet Borat there in KStan?

ML-- it has been suggested that the   "The jone Crew Eastern European Summer Vacation"  story was a movie in the making!!

Given that jone made an appearance in Borat movie--it would seem appropriate for Borat to have a small part on  the jone story!!

I might add--I did urge jone not to pay fines and do the jail time--it would have added a whole chapter to the story!!

[jone]

Here are some pics: 



Lamb Shashlik.   Didn't last long.  I was halfway through it before remembering to take a pic.



Typical Vegetable Platter (Common with most meals - especially if you have a Russian woman with you.)



Meat pie (not very good)



Local flavor / Empty Restaurant on a Saturday Night (I should point out that it was raining heavily outside)

[jone]

Will upload pics more economically to our over used server.

[Gator]

Jone,

Good story.

I have been away.  Are the dogs your lady's dogs?  All RW come with some baggage.  At least it is not a cat. 

I have read some accounts that Putin has mentioned the possibility of ISIS strikes in Kazakhstan.  An excuse for little green men? . 

[jone]

Gator,

Last week Thursday, all of a sudden the entire airport was shut down and all the surrounding roads were occupied by soldiers with traffic diverted.  Guess who shows up here?  That's right, the Russian mafioso, himself.  I did not see him but saw the motorcade and, of course, his plane.    It was said that he was here to discuss oil drilling in the Caspian Sea.  However, the Presidential news release from Russia explained that he was here to discuss mutual security issues as well.

[jone]

Astana, capital of Kazakhstan

I had always thought that Almaty was the capital.  But Astana is.  Almaty is described as the business capital of KStan while Astana holds the political reigns.  We arrived in Astana early in the evening, plenty of time for my 8:55 flight to Abu Dhabi and home to Los Angeles.  The dogs were a little anxious having been in a crate all day. 

Here they are licking their chops at seeing the airport.  (The pictures below were taken at the airport.)  Little do they know what is in store for them (and me).  Charlie is the smaller black dog and Iggy is the light brown or fawn colored beast.  They are both miniature pinschers and they are both from the street - rescues, many years ago.

After sorting out baggage and running the dogs for half an hour (it is 15 degrees Celsius here, quite comfortable.) I decided to get them on the plane.  Iggy is somewhat neurotic, while Charlie and a fence post have a lot in common.  (If I ask Iggy to sing, he immediately howls at the top of his voice.)  While Iggy is the larger of the two I put Charlie in the crate and take Iggy on the plane to save the cargo people's ears. 

As I am submitting the dogs for loading, I have a visit from the head of operations for Air Astana.  While the flight is an Etihad flight and I have called ahead about the dogs, she informs me that Abu Dhabi has slapped a ban on import or transit of animals through the airport.    The dogs cannot fly!  Since there is another flight the next night she suggests I work things out with Etihad and take that plane.  I will only be out of visa compliance one day and she thinks that the technicality will go un noticed by the border control.  She then tells me of a secret hotel in the airport that has sixteen rooms and is (comparatively) extremely inexpensive.  It is not advertised and is simply a white door on the side of the terminal.  I walk around and am greeted by a friendly staff that knows all about stranded travelers.  I get a suite of rooms for $50.00 a night.  Sweet.

The next morning is Sunday.  I call Etihad at least five times before finally talking with someone that can help.  They tell me that the only way to get the dogs through is by shipping them as cargo.  I begin the work.    Then about halfway through the process, I note that Etihad uses Air Astana for cargo services here.  Air Astana does not have any cargo people on duty.  I am thwarted from getting out of the airport a second day.  No problem.  Have had much worse travel conundrums before.  I meet again with the operations manager and she suggests that I meet with the head of the migration police at the airport to buy me some time due to the expiration of my 15 day visa free travel.  Such kind words.  And the man who met with me was very nice to me as well.  'Come on in', said the spider to the fly, we are so happy to meet you.

The man explained that there were two levels of visa expiration.  The first was administrative. It was for travelers who overstayed their visa for three days or less.   I would need to go to the migration police and pay an administrative fee.  Those who stayed longer than three days past permissible visa time were sent to court to appear before a judge.

I am up early the next morning to meet the cargo people from Air Astana.  They are immediately on the phone to their Etihad counterparts in Abu Dhabi.  It appears that the travel ban extends to cargo as well.  I will have to find another route.  In the meantime, I decide to make an appearance at the Migration Police. 

Astana is divided into two cities, really.  The Southern and larger part is new, modern, beautiful to behold.  The Northern section is the old city.  A relic to Soviet inefficiency.  I am in a taxicab to the old section of town.  I arrive there and find the Migration Police headquarters.  I walk in and cannot believe my eyes.  The building is busting at the seams from the number of people waiting in line to get some satisfaction from whatever passport or visa problems they might be having.  (I later learn that many are immigrants, seeking permanent residence.)

I made the wrong assumption that I would be treated cordially like I had been at the Airport.  These people were too overworked to even consider cordiality.  I showed a clerk at a window my passport and my problem.  He gets out of his stall and walks me quickly to the back of the building.  There, an attractive young lady, who speaks perfect English, tells me that they cannot talk to me.  I will need a certified translator to deal with their people.  She attempts to give me a phone number for a translator to come down immediately, but one of her colleagues tells her not to.  So she gives me the address of the American embassy.

I go there. The embassy is closed up tighter than a clam guarding a pearl.  I take down the number for emergencies and go back to my hotel room.  I call the number and am told I must speak to consular services in the morning.  Now, remember.  I have three days to conform to visa requirements or they throw the book at me and require me to go to court and put myself at Kazakhstan's mercy.  The next day, Tuesday, is the third day. 

Fasten your seat belts readers.  This is gonna be good.   

[jone]

And now a word from our sponsors:  The Kazakhstani Government.  We're happy you're with us.  Don't run out of money.  We will try and figure out every possible way to soak you for more.

Here is my favorite treat.  It is called Trabuchki c Kremom which translates to 'Tubes with Cream'.

The tubes are made of Croissant and the Cream seams to be made from egg whites and sugar.  They are delicious.  Especially if you get them freshly made.  I know all of the spots.

[jone]

Ahh, the US Embassy.  The Bastion of American soil on a foreign government location.  Home sweet home.  NOT!

I called the US Embassy at 9AM on Tuesday morning.  This was the last day for me to be able to obtain administrative waiver of visa violation.  I talked to a gal with a heavy Kazak accent.  She said that she was an assistant in Consular Services and would help me.  She sent me an email.  On it were the list of qualified translators who could take up my cause, for a fee, at Migration Police.

(I should note that I switched my cell phone over to Beeline Kazak phone service and have local calling.)

I called all of the number son the list.  Either they didn't answer or were out of service.  I called the Embassy again.  It is now 10:30.  They say that they do not vet the translators.  I explain that I need a certified translator.  And that I have an emergency.

She says that I will get a follow-up email.  I then hear from her just before noon.  She has obtained two different names.  I get them on the phone.  Neither knows what certified means.  They just have someone who can speak in Russian and English.  I explain in passable Russian that I can understand Russian too.  But I need a certified translator.  She still doesn't get it.

I then get one of the translator services on the phone while the gal listens on another line and explain to the Translator Service that I need a CERTIFIED translator.  She has no idea of what I am talking about.  But the gal at the embassy has transferred me to another person who says she will find out what CERTIFIED means.

At 2PM I get an email from an assistant in Consular Services from MY embassy explaining that she NOW knows what certified means.  A translator must provide evidence of a degree in English studies to the Kazak government.  Low and behold, they have found someone.  I call the gal.  She says that she can meet me at the Austrian embassy at 3:15 and will go with me to Migration Police.  At 3:15 I go to Austrian embassy.  No gal.  I wait for forty minutes.  No gal.  I go to the guard shack and then to the internal security.  They call up to embassy.  No gal.  I call her on her cell phone.  Her cell phone says in Russian that she is out of the country.

Dejected, I go to a Producti Magazine and buy supplies for the evening and then get back to Hotel and call embassy.  I am pretty upset now.  I tell consular services that I am now in total violation of Kazak laws due to their inefficiency in helping a stranded American traveler.  I insist on speaking to a consular officer or Duty Officer, either one.  Finally, a guy comes on the phone and introduces himself as the Consular Officer.  He tells me that I skipped on his translator, that she waited for 40 minutes.  I relayed the true story and asked that he not recommend her in the future and that if he would like to see my phone log that he could verify the facts.  I think he felt after the failure of his staff that he would be better to be on the offensive.  Like it was my fault that they could not recommend a certified translator. 

Half an hour later, he calls back and gives me two names to choose from.  Both are certified.  What he does not know is that they are Brokers for Translators.  (Still, to this day, the US Embassy will not admit any culpability for failing to provide services to a stranded traveler, by not knowing or caring how to deal with the Kazak government.)

I go to bed miserable.  I talk to N on the phone.  She is crying softly for all of the crap that I have had to go through.  She apologizes for the way her government works.  And the Kazak government, which seem to go hand in hand.

Wednesday morning.  I am off to Migration Police to try to resolve problem.  We present ourselves to a room for stranded foreigners in the Migration Police.  The Inspector there refuses to deal with my translator because she has forgotten to bring her documents proving she is certified.  She has them emailed to her and we spend the next half hour at an internet cafe where she prints them out.  Back to the Police.

I explain that I was there on Monday.  Certainly within the Administrative resolution.  He asks me where I was on Tuesday.  I relay the situation with my embassy.  That earns me a smirk.  He then tells me that the only way for me to resolve my problem is to go to court.   I am S.O.L.  Don't worry, the translator tells me.   They always take the foreigners first in court.

To be continued ......

[jone]

Migration Police Headquarters ....  In the 'nice' part of town



Another typical day inside the Migration Police building



My translator.... who generously did not charge me for the time it took her to secure her documents proving certification.

[jone]

Court, in Astana, is across the city.  It is in the newer part of town away from all the riffraff.  I am requested to provide transport to my translator.  We walk into the court room receiving area and once again are confronted by the multitude of people that are trying to achieve resolutions of their problems.  It is 9:30 in the morning.  We learn that an inspector from the Migration Police will make an appearance and bring documents for the court to consider.  He is late in arriving.  (So much for our early departure.)  He immediately tells me that I cannot appear in court without a Lawyer.  Fortunately, one is just about to show up with another client.  We secure her services for a modest fee.  Now I am employing a translator and a lawyer.  Oh, boy.  This is gonna be great!!!

The Inspector from the Migration Police personally invites me for a cup of coffee.  I see the train coming right down the middle of the track.  He gently begins to ask me questions.  My translator is too stupid to see that he is attempting to figure out the facts of the case and, if possible, determine if there is something malicious going on.   She is volunteering way too much information about how the US embassy refused to help, etc.  Finally, I step on her foot under the table and she shuts up.  Later I tell her she is my translator and if she hopes to get paid, she will translate and nothing more.

The Inspector leaves us for another individual who has to appear in court.  He does the same thing with that person.  I can now see that it is a carefully prepared evaluation of the presumed guilty party. 

My translator is getting paid a good sum.  She has no problem that the wait for court lasts until after lunch time.  She invites herself to get some food at my expense.  Fortunately, it was very inexpensive.  We ate our food and then still waited for court. 

Apparently the attorney that I hired cannot be found.  Therefore my case is to be heard last.  Finally, after searching for her, and reminding my translator that she said we were going to be accommodated and be out quickly, they decide to hear my case without the lawyer.  (Does this mean I don't have to pay her?)

I enter court.  I move up to the podium.  There are three people in the room.  The judge sits directly in front of me.  The prosecuting attorney sits to my right.  A representative of the Kazak government sits to my left.  Next to me is my translator.   Next to her is the Inspector.  Apparently I am defending myself.  The judge advises me of my rights.  My translator begins to translate them.  I look up at the judge and say 'Panyatna'.  I get it.  Everyone laughs.   The Inspector leans over and gives me a thumbs up.  The judge asks me if I have anything to change on my statement.  I say no.  The prosecuting atty asks me one insignificant question.  The judge signs the papers.   I am done.

I have to pay a fine for my visa overstay.  It comes out to be 31,000 Tenge or around $120 USD.  No problem.  How do I pay it?  Well, there is a machine that will take my money right outside the court room.  I pay the money, and have a small refund coming back.   The refund goes on my cell phone.  That's right.  The machine asks which phone service I use and what is my number.  It then prints out a credit slip.

I am to return at 4PM later in the day and I will be able to pick up my court release. 

###################### 

That was me vamping for two hours until I could pick up the release.  When I went back for the release the Lawyer was there.  I looked her in the eye to see if she was going to try and collect for being a no-show.  She avoided my gaze and turned and walked away.  At exactly 4PM the lady brought out my completed document.  It said that I had been found guilty but had paid the fine.  I took a copy of that and the proof of payment and headed for the Migration Police.  Time to get this all over with.  I got there with twenty minutes to spare before the end of the day.  They then told me that I could not get my passport with visa back until Friday, late afternoon.  Crap.

Okay, I scheduled a Turkish Air flight on Saturday morning at 3AM.  The ticket office had already written on my ticket that I was carrying two dogs.  No problem.  I would pick up the visa and be on my way out of this country.

The next day, Friday, I went to the Migration Police at my appointed time.  The guy said my visa was not ready yet.  I waited until 6:30.  Finally he utters in Kazak to come to see him.  While I didn't know what he meant, I did get the Passport with a visa.  We had asked for ten days.  They had given me three.  Beginning with Friday night.

No problem.  I rush to the airport.  At 10:00 PM I take the dogs over for loading.  I get to the gate.  There is someone that I had not seen before.  She said that they were not going to allow the dogs on the plane because the flight was too long! WHAT?  Yup.  No dogs on plane.  I showed the itinerary with the commitment for the dogs.  She said that Turkish Air would refund the money.  I'm taking this all in stride.  I go back to my hotel and they let me have the same room. 

In a way it is amusing.  I have often wondered about the old communist bureaucracy.  Now I am experiencing it first hand.  I go back and go to sleep.  The next morning, I call N.  She can't believe it.  She decides then and there to come to my aid.  I plot a flight for her from Kostanay and she hires a car to get her across the border.  Sunday comes. A joyous reunion.  Even the dogs are excited.

To be continued.

[jone]

Here are some pics from my day in court:

#1  Outside the courthouse.  We spent much time out here.  My translator is a chain smoker.

#2  The lunch room in the court house.

#3  The actual court room

#4  People surrounding the Inspector.  He's a popular guy.

#5  The little machine that ate my money and proclaimed my fine PIF.

[jone]

My Darling / My Savior. 

So, N makes it to KStan.  She arrives on Sunday.  We go over the options.  Our best option appears to be getting the dogs out of KStan by sending them as Cargo on Luftansa.  Then I can update the visa again and proceed out of the country.  This is a sound plan.  We celebrate it by shopping for N.  After all, she made the trip.  A five hour car ride followed by a plane ride that was delayed two hours. 

Like all Russian women, when the weather turns cold they turn to two things:  Boots and Warm Jackets.  Of course we shopped for both.  My woman does not have cheap tastes.  We went to the nicest store and she bought a great pair of all leather boots.  Then she went to the more expensive shopping mall and obtained a down filled jacket with a fox collar.  I was so happy to see her that there was no resistance on my part.  (I can never resist anything she sets her mind to.)  My feeling about purchasing things is that you get things that will last.  She has the same thoughts.  Her last pair of boots were three years old.

The next morning we get up and our first stop is Luftansa Cargo.  Actually we went out in the cold to the cargo terminal only to find out that the Luftansa Cargo Office is in the Airport Terminal.  After talking with our contact there, he sends me an email with instructions for sending the dogs.  We immediately comply with the first three items.  This activates the order stream and both the sending and receiving units in Astana, Frankfurt and Los Angeles all confirm.

After the initial work done with Luftansa, we go to the Migration Police.  With N interpreting, I have no problem resubmitting for a three day and out visa.   I am to pick up the visa on Wednesday morning.  We do a bit more shopping in the evening.  We go to dinner at an excellent Chinese restaurant called Turandot.  (I love the opera by the same name which includes Nessun Dorma - the classic associated with Pavoratti.)  While the food was excellent, we were (and I do not say this lightly) discriminated against.  Everyone in the place was Kazak.  N repeatedly tried to attract the attention of our waiter, who would have nothing to do with us.  Finally we had to get another waiter to replace him.  Now either we did something to offend him or he did not like us.  In any event, we were happy and had too much to eat.

During the night Luftansa did their work and the dogs were scheduled to go out that evening.  We went down to the Vet office in the airport to have her stamp our documents which were all in order and the dogs were on their way.  She agreed that everything was in order.  But then she made a comment that we needed a stamp from the Kazak office in the center of Astana.  Dutifully we hopped in a taxi and off we went looking for this office.  While in the car, I got a call from the Migration Police.  They left a cryptic message explaining that I should go back there with a translator.  We were right near the Veterinary Center.  So we went in there first.  We were the only ones in the place.  There were bureaucrats behind many desks, but no visitors.  After presenting our credentials, a little lady looks at us again with what I now call the Kazak smirk.  She tells us that according to regulations, the dogs will need to wait 10 days before they will be cleared to leave.  My mouth must have hit the floor.  10 days?  They had already been to see a vet in Kazakhstan.  They were cleared!  She explained that the ten days were how long it took to get them through the process.  We were blown away.  No Luftansa for the dogs. 

With the dogs in tow, we headed over to the Migration Police, the buildings were not far apart.  We go in there and a lady in a heretofore not visited window tells us that we must restart the process.  There was no excuse given.  We trudge over to the inspectors office and he has that same smirk on his face.  He bounces my passport up and down and then says;  'You must go back to court.'

That did it for me.  I politely asked for my passport back and we got out of Dodge.  N asked me what I wanted to do.  I said that I didn't know but that I was going to the US embassy who had failed me miserably at the onset.  In the taxi to the embassy N suggests that we reverse the process.  The dogs came in through Russia, the dogs would go out through Russia.  We would get the dogs across the border from KStan the same way they came in.  N would take them back on the plane and then out to Russia through the use of a paid car. 

We arrived at the Embassy.  I was steered away from the normal entrance.  Then I walked up to a secondary entrance and showed my passport to a guard.  I then requested to see the DUTY OFFICER and stated that I was declaring an emergency.    I was not admitted to the embassy.  Then, after hemming and hawing for ten minutes, they decided I could go into security.  I don't know if they thought I was a nut case or not.  I didn't care.

Outside was really cold and the wind was blowing.   N had both dogs and was freezing.  I asked if she could come in.  They said no.  Finally I went outside, talked to N and we got her a taxi to go back to the Airport Hotel. 

As you may probably guess, I was pretty stoked by this time.  You can diss me, fine.  But refuse to take care of my family and it is another story.  The security guard hands me a phone.  It is the same idiot girl who didn't know what a certified translator was.  I explained that I had no more use for consular services and would like to speak to the ranking duty officer.  The guards asked me why they thought I could do this and I explained that they had a sign up on their wall that said that any US citizen in an emergency could request a duty officer.  After some discussions, I was advised to go around the embassy and a guard would let me in. 

Once going through security procedures, and given a badge, I was escorted to the room where the visa applicants wait.  In a truly disdainful act, the flatulent and pompous asshole who had advised me before, came to a window and would only speak to me as if I was a visa applicant.  He stated that I had not treated his staff with respect but that he would try to help anyway.  I explained that if his staff had done their work, I would have received my visa extension four days before I actually received it.  We were not on friendly terms.  I explained to whomever would listen about the staff's failure.  I also advised the jerk that I would be writing everything up as I am doing here and would be sending it up the ladder to note his deficiencies. 

Please note.  I have been in many US Embassies across the world.  I have never been treated with such disdain.  I guess animosity makes for animosity.  Well, Bozo came through.  He talked to the guy that had the smirk.  Remember the rule that I mentioned at the onset?  For three days the Migration Police must handle visa over stays as an administrative hiccup and let you go?  Well, Inspector Smirk suddenly remembered that when understanding that he was talking to a US embassy official.   I was to show up the next morning with a certified (not wifey) interpreter.  Then they would accommodate my request and I would have the visa by Thursday evening. 

The next morning, Wednesday, was a very sad day.  I had to say goodbye to N.  I put her, and the dogs, on an early morning flight and then got to work.  I sent a thank you note to Luftansa Air Cargo and explained that we could not use their services.  I then got a hold of Etihad Airlines.  It turns out that the first flight out was not until Friday night.  I did not re-book yet until I knew I had my visa.   I met my Certified Translator at her bus stop with a taxi.  We rode in to the Migration Police.  She said that I should pray to God if I believed in him.  I told her that I didn't think God watched over the mundane.  As predicted by our crack US Embassy staff, Inspector Smirk was true to his word and released the visa for monies already paid.  Insead of a three day, over the weekend visa, I was to get five days including week days.  I was set for tomorrow afternoon.

I should point out that each time I went into Astana, we were gouged for taxi fares. While the diminished Tenge does not make for a large fare, it is more than twice what the Kazaks pay.  It offended me.  So on Wednesday night I looked at the bus schedules.  The buses ran every ten minutes and the fare was 90 Tenge.  The Taxis were charging foreigners 3000 Tenge to sit in their cars.  I realize that this is $12 vs. 33 cents but it still was something that I rejected.  As I was rejecting everything else that was being done to me here in KStan, now I would start fighting back.  On Thursday morning, I would ride the bus.  I called N early in the evening.   The dogs had made it back to Russia without a hitch.  They were asleep on our bed in our temporary apartment in Chelyabinsk. 

I woke up this morning.  There was four inches of snow that had fallen last night.  I went, at 9AM, to Etihad and confirmed my flight was still available.  Etihad tried to charge me $500 for a rebooking fee.   I rejected their offer and went to Air Astana, who was responsible for their flights from Astana.  The operations manager called Etihad booking and my rebooking fee was down to $146.00.  I now had a flight.  I went out into the extremely cold air and hopped a bus.  I arrived early at the Migration Police.  Just showing my face in the door, the clerk called me over surrendered my passport to me and identified the new visa and exit migration car.  I was now set.  Visa in one hand and confirmed flight in the other. 

That's where I am right now.  I'm in the airport hotel.  I can hear the snow plows keeping the runways clear.  My bags are packed, even though my flight does not leave until tomorrow evening.  I'm ready to go home.

[ML]

Jon, this story is hard to believe.

But, on the other hand, no one could actually have the imagination to make up this story.

Still want to continue traveling with dogs ?

[SANDRO43]

We go to dinner at an excellent Chinese restaurant called Turandot.  (I love the opera by the same name which includes Nessun Dorma - the classic associated with Pavoratti.)

Must be a different tenor, this one happened to be named Pavarotti .

[Larry1]

Still want to continue traveling with dogs ?

That's what I was wondering. Dealing with airlines and officialdom over the dogs added another layer of difficulty to an already difficult situation.

[jone]

The dogs have made their last trip.  Except for the one home from Russia to the US.  N is out buying them Snow Outfits today.  When she gets them I will post a picture of it. Here is a picture of Charlie, yesterday, out in the newly fallen snow in Chelyabinsk.  And here is one of Iggy showing that he, like everyone around her, and especially myself, has fallen for my beautiful woman.

[jone]

Must be a different tenor, this one happened to be named Pavarotti .

Hey, I did that entire trip report on the fly.  Grant me a few mis spellings in there.  For what it is worth, I know how to spell Pavarotti. 

But is always a pleasure, and any excuse will do, to see the master at work.