We finally make the meet at a downtown cafe in the evening shadow of the ancient medina. "Tarid" (okay, that is his actual name) is, to put it charitably, a very shiny-suited, shifty-looking sort. This is the guy who is going to pave my path to Russia? What a mess...
Since I hold a U.S. passport, if I want to travel to certain countries, I need to obtain a visa. The procedures differ from country to country. Russia ain't easy, especially if you applying from a foreign country. Like Morocco. Like me.
The first thing on the list of hoops to jump is to get in contact with an approved travel agency in-country to get a travel voucher. Why? No good reason, other than to extract money from a guy who just had to visit the heart of the former Soviet Union. Not speaking French fluently really makes life difficult sometimes, like when I have to call a local business on the phone. Making gestures doesn't help much in these situations. A trusted, intelligent multilingual student does. Arrangements are made...
Back to the cafe - Tarid sits down, flashes his nicotine-stained (shark) teeth and I know this is going to cost me, but good. If you have any good sense, you make sure you start the process of getting a visa months in advance of when you plan to go, not a couple of weeks prior, and most certainly before you do anything stupid like booking non-refundable flights and hotel rooms. Um, not that I would ever do that. (Actually, I did, which is a whole other story).
I give this perfect stranger a copy of my passport, and 200 bucks ($160 for the visa, plus the agency gets its cut), and pray that I will see this joker (who tries to put the squeeze on me for more!) next week with the the voucher. I am under serious time constraints, but this guy, a perfect stranger, says he can get the job done. I've already laid out a lot of dough, so I figure I'm in for a dime, in for a dollar, right? The cherry on the sundae - he walks away leaving behind the bill for his coffee.
Fast forward, I actually get the voucher (and revenge for last week's bill), but next I have to take the paperwork to the Russian consulate in Casa, which I do on a Thursday. My flight is Saturday. Let's just say that the turnaround time, (assuming you get approved) is usually m-u-c-h longer. I look at the guy behind the glass, make my plea (perhaps tell a fib or three). I need this next day. The young man is incredulous, but polite, and says he has to take it to the Consul General. He is gone for quite a while, which I figure is in my favor. He returns...and says he can do it, for a price. I prefer to not type the number, it hurts too much. But I pick it up the next day. Russia is going to happen!
Since I hold a U.S. passport, if I want to travel to certain countries, I need to obtain a visa. The procedures differ from country to country. Russia ain't easy, especially if you applying from a foreign country. Like Morocco. Like me.
The first thing on the list of hoops to jump is to get in contact with an approved travel agency in-country to get a travel voucher. Why? No good reason, other than to extract money from a guy who just had to visit the heart of the former Soviet Union. Not speaking French fluently really makes life difficult sometimes, like when I have to call a local business on the phone. Making gestures doesn't help much in these situations. A trusted, intelligent multilingual student does. Arrangements are made...
Back to the cafe - Tarid sits down, flashes his nicotine-stained (shark) teeth and I know this is going to cost me, but good. If you have any good sense, you make sure you start the process of getting a visa months in advance of when you plan to go, not a couple of weeks prior, and most certainly before you do anything stupid like booking non-refundable flights and hotel rooms. Um, not that I would ever do that. (Actually, I did, which is a whole other story).
I give this perfect stranger a copy of my passport, and 200 bucks ($160 for the visa, plus the agency gets its cut), and pray that I will see this joker (who tries to put the squeeze on me for more!) next week with the the voucher. I am under serious time constraints, but this guy, a perfect stranger, says he can get the job done. I've already laid out a lot of dough, so I figure I'm in for a dime, in for a dollar, right? The cherry on the sundae - he walks away leaving behind the bill for his coffee.
Fast forward, I actually get the voucher (and revenge for last week's bill), but next I have to take the paperwork to the Russian consulate in Casa, which I do on a Thursday. My flight is Saturday. Let's just say that the turnaround time, (assuming you get approved) is usually m-u-c-h longer. I look at the guy behind the glass, make my plea (perhaps tell a fib or three). I need this next day. The young man is incredulous, but polite, and says he has to take it to the Consul General. He is gone for quite a while, which I figure is in my favor. He returns...and says he can do it, for a price. I prefer to not type the number, it hurts too much. But I pick it up the next day. Russia is going to happen!
