7 April 2012 - The Subway

My morning commute consists of a 10 minute walk to the Teatralnya Metro station, a ride on said Metro (Green line), exiting at the second stop (Paveletskaya) and another 10 minute walk to the office - just about 30 minutes door to door.  Not a bad commute and only slightly longer than my commute in Germany.  But I suspect that if I tried to drive to the office, even though it's not very far from home, it would take significantly longer.

Some of the partners I have spoken with here can't believe that I would take the Metro.  Now it turns out that most of these partners either are Russian and live quite a ways outside of town and have a nice ride or, in the case of at least one, has his own driver (clearly the Russian partners make more than we do in the US!).  I'm a BIG fan of rail transit, stemming back to taking the commuter rail when I lived in the suburbs of Chicago, to the Amtrak Hiawatha between Milwaukee and Chicago (one of the few profitable Amtrak routes, I might add), to the subway in Chicago or New York, and most assuredly the incredible local and high speed rail in Germany.  But when they said this before I had experience with the Moscow Metro I was a bit concerned.  The concern was, of course, entirely needless.  It's certainly different than in Germany, to be sure, but with a few modifications in my perspective and behavior, I have become a big fan.

I decided to try the system one weekend when I was still staying at the Swissotel.  You know, to see how bad it might really be, but doing so during a weekend where hopefully there would be fewer users and it would be easier to figure things out.  I asked the concierge at the hotel about the Metro and how I could buy a ticket.  He paused and asked if I'd like him to arrange a car service or taxi.  This didn't inspire much confidence in the Metro, but I declined the offer.  He then said it might be helpful to write the request in Russian, so he wrote something on a piece of paper that apparently I was supposed to provide to the cashier.  (Alas, no kiosks where I could buy a ticket.)  He estimated that I could get a 10-ride for "around 300 Rubles."

I will admit that when I slid this note under the glass at the cashier's desk I felt a bit like a bank robber and wondered if the cashier on the other side might feel the same way.  She looked at it, then at me with a raised eyebrow.  But she took the 500 Ruble note I had offered, did some typing on her keyboard, and slipped my change and a thick paper card back into the slot - along with my note.

It turns out that the 10-ride costs RUB 265, which is a little less than $9.  There is apparently some kind of electronic chip or something inside as you  place it on a pad at the entry locations to the subway which authenticates entry and displays the number of remaining rides on the ticket.  The entry locations are gates or turnstiles without a gate or turnstile.  During rush hour, there is an employee on the other side of the "gates" who can see whether the passenger's entrance has been authorized, though this type of resource is not necessarily present during off-hours.  So far, I have not yet been asked to show my ticket on the train itself.

Each ride is good for the entire system, rather than on a zone system which I always think is overly complicated.  The system consists of a ring line that reflects the ring orientation of the city, and then other lines that spring out from it.  The stations are much further apart than I am used to within either Chicago or Germany, so just a few stops can take you quite a long way.  At the same time, it requires you to plan ahead on which station is closest to your destination as it could have a significant impact on how far you must then walk to your destination.  Fortunately, many businesses indicate in their contact information the closest Metro station, which is quite helpful.  This also tends to result in a lot of people boarding and exiting the train at each stop.

The trains operate very frequently - often nearly one per minute.  The signs are generally in Cyrillic characters, so you need to plan your path in advance and know which way to go.  For example, when I was first learning how to get to work, I knew that no matter whether I was coming or go, I should also choose to go towards the middle stations.  That station, Novokuznetskaya, when printed in Cyrillic characters starts with what looks like Hobo, so I always have this visual of being a hobo (yes, with the stick and a pack of goodies in a red bandanna tied on the stick) going to work and I always have managed to get there.

There are clear unstated rules regarding the exit and entry process of the subways.  Everyone on the outside clearly stands just to the side of the door until all people are out and then there is the mad dash to board.  It can be crowded.  There are long benches along the sides of the train with bars above them to grab on to, but no such bars in the main vestibules, so you either have to do a form of surfing or get in the midst of the aisle.  Everyone seems to seat themselves with precisely the same distance so when a seat is available, you "fit."  It's quite amazing.  During the trip, of course, like on pretty many other subways, you studiously avoid looking at others.

When you exit the subway, the real fun begins, especially during rush hour.  There are generally (at least at my two primary Metro stations) three escalators and they reverse the direction of the center escalator during rush hour to attempt to smooth the traffic flow.  Attempt.  But it is not enough.  What happens is that as soon as the doors of the trains open, a ton of people emerge and all head towards the escalators.  And you have trains running in both directions that are emptying onto the same platform, so if you are exiting and hear another train approaching from the other side, you start double-timing.

Think of a boa constrictor to get the visual here of a lot of people and only two escalator lines.  There is a mass of people.  They don't really queue per se, but nor is there actual pushing.  Rather, it is a display more aggressive pedestrian skills than what I have (though I am working on that) coupled with an the absolute refusal to acknowledge the existence of those around you.  Despite a quasi-queue, people still walk right up to the front and weasel their ways in.  No looks to the others, no  "excuse me's" or anything like that.  They just butt in and everyone continues.  The line does move, so it amuses me to no end that these people just HAVE to get about 10 people ahead of where they would have been otherwise.  The other interesting thing is that there is nearly perfectly even spacing once on the escalator - despite the aggressiveness in entering the escalator, everyone seems careful to leave an empty stair between the person in front.  And everyone moves to the right.   It is truly fascinating.

At the top of the stairs, there is another need for aggressive pedestrian skills, often driving by other streams of incoming passengers from other lines (both stations also connect with another line of the subway) and everyone trying to exit through the same gates.  Same types of "I'm not acknowledging you exist" tactics as everyone presses ahead.  Somehow this is all done with minimal body contact, which I fine mildly reassuring.  That said, one's "personal bubble" becomes quite small in all aspects of the subway.

One other thing about the subway is that some of the stations are really quite ornate inside.  I might try to take some pictures of them at some point in time, but even the kind of "plain" station that I have included above (Paveletskaya) is still much prettier than many US or German subway stations I have experienced.

Overall, a great and efficient means of transportation at a low price.  Highly recommend it.

25 March 2012 - The reality of relocating to Moscow: Part 1 (The Lads)

Oxley's new bed in an apartment bereft of furniture

[Perhaps Chumbawamba's "Tubthumper (I get knocked down)" or Pat Benetar's "Hit me with your best shot"]

I've heard it said that moving is one of the most stressful events in one's life.  I suspect that moving among countries would rank even higher.  I will be experiencing this stressful event this year.  Twice.  Great idea....

The fact that I am only supposed to be in Russia until I return to the United States this summer was a bit of a complicating factor.  It didn't make sense to move everything to Russia as there wouldn't really be enough time to fully settle before it would be time to move again.  Not to mention that most landlords aren't really interested in renting out an unfurnished apartment for less than a year.  And who knew how long it might take for everything to clear Customs in Russia?  So we decided that I would live in a corporate apartment in Russia and all of my belongings would be shipped to the US and placed in storage until I arrived there and I would just ship some things to Russia to get me through the next few months.  This also had the advantage that, since it takes a while for a shipping container across the ocean, I would have my things available as soon as I got back to the US rather than having to live in corporate housing there until everything arrived.

So far, it seems logical and convenient, right?  Aside from a few points that became more important as the process proceeded.

1. Getting me into Russia is not as easy as just buying a ticket; there's this matter of a visa.
2. 'Banes and Oxley could not be placed into storage for a few months.
3. I would be ripped from my life and roots in Frankfurt with essentially no notice or right of return.
4. Timing, as in most things, is everything.

Since the first point has been discussed at length in previous entries, I will skip it but cover the other points in separate blog postings to spread out the boredom.

Let's start with the cats.  As you may require from the posting from a few months after I moved to Germany, getting the cats there was not an easy thing and I couldn't have done it without the assistance of my sister-in-law and my brother (but mostly my incredibly organized and patient sister-in-law who went through all of the visits with the veterinarians, Department of Agriculture and more).  Somehow they made it and, perhaps due to the drugging involved, seemed no worse for the wear.

In November I had anticipated that there might be similar issues to getting them back into the US, including ensuring that their vaccinations had been given at least six months prior to their entrance.  So I finally found a veterinarian and got them in for this appointment.   (Yes, I am a bad cat mom for not having taken them in before, but honestly, where were they going to pick up rabies and distemper in my apartment?)  I explained my plans to the vet and he said, "Oh, so you'll need a pet passport."  Excuse me?  Yes, Germany has something called a Heimtierausweis that is a passport of sorts for the domestic pets to travel around the EU.  I can't make this stuff up.  It's slightly larger than a regular passport, has a little hologram on the front (with animals in the hologram) and yes, there is a place for a photo of the respective animal, though this is optional (imagine the fun I had trying to get the Lads to pose in front of a white background without their glasses and not smiling).  This document is used to record all their vaccinations as well as to document health certifications made by the vet just prior to their travel.

So this was a major hurdle out of the way, though there were still two requirements before they could go to Russia.  First, they had to get one of these health certifications no more than 10 days prior to the date of their travel.  And, second, to go to Russia they also needed to have a ringworm treatment or something as a precautionary treatment within 3-5 days of their travel, which effectively set the date after which they could travel - which was only a window of a couple of days.  Hmmmm.....  And then there is the matter of actually transporting them there.

A slight digression.  The firm somewhere along the way decided that it might also take too long to clear customs for an air shipment of my possessions, so whatever I wanted to take, I needed to be able to take as excess baggage.  Umm, seriously?  For 2-3 seasons of clothing (maybe only two, as who knows when winter ends in Moscow and whether summer might arrive before I went back to the US) and with one of those seasons consisting of a lot of large warm items as well as my new clunky snow boots?  Seriously?  I had an odd assortment of luggage available (an old Hartman rollaboard with shot bearings that I had replaced with a small Rimowa but hadn't thrown out, the small Rimowa itself, a cheap rolling duffle bag I got at Wal-Mart to bring some clothing back from the US one time, my Tumi rollaboard for 2-3 day trips, and the gigantaur Rimowa).  It sounds like a lot of luggage, but it's really not.  But it nevertheless would take up at least one of the luggage carts.  Now picture me arriving in Moscow with all of that and going through Customs.  Is there any way they would NOT stop me to look in the bags? And then think of adding on to that two large crates with the Lads in them, yowling at the top of their lungs.  Trying to find any sort of taxi that could accommodate all this stuff.  Getting set up in the corporate apartment with the cats still yowling.  It just sounded like a really, really bad scenario.

So I decided to seek professional assistance, especially since from the start I had made it clear that I would only consider this if the firm was able to get my cats there as well.  Again, not possible to put them in storage.  Also didn't make sense to ship them to Chicago (assuming my family would be willing to host them) since I'd have to move them again anyway to New Jersey.

You might be surprised at how many pet relocation companies are out there.  I'm serious.  You might also, like me, nearly experience heart failure at the prices they charge for an international relocation for said pets.  The services they would provide would include booking of cargo accommodations, pick-up of the Lads from my home, delivery to said cargo provider, pickup on the other end, and delivery to my home.  It did not include the process or costs associated with getting all relevant vaccinations, trips to the vet for the ringworm treatment and health certificate.  And of course you have to provide the crates of the proper size for shipment.  So, want to guess how much?  [I'll let you think about this while you continue reading the rest of the blog.]

Due to all the visa-related changes in timing, the move was completed before either the cats or I were able to move, so they were living in my apartment with no furniture.  I know that this sounds like cruel and unusual punishment and maybe it was, but I figured they would still prefer being in their own 'hood rather than being boarded in a place with strange animals, sounds and noises.  I did keep out a couple of their sleeping mats/pads, their toys and some other things to try to make them feel at home, but I still felt horrible.  As you can see, Oxley took to hanging out in one of the bathroom sinks, as well as on top of the kitchen cupboards when he felt scared (which of course made me feel even worse).

They seemed to get used to it, though.  Well, at least until I brought up their cargo crates from the basement.  This put Oxley on top of the kitchen cupboards for more than a couple hours.  I had hoped that they might get used to the crates so it would be less stressful when they had to go into them.  I was wrong.  When the appointed time came for the pet relocation pick-up and I tried to load them into the crates, there was much yowling, scratching, growling and yes, the need to try to pluck a cat from the top of the cupboards (which cat then cowered in the back of the crate liked a cowed being, which made me truly feel like a heel).  But off they went.

While I was flying on Aeroflot, the Lads were living the life in the Lufthansa Animal Lounge before they made the journey with Lufthansa Cargo.  Lucky guys.  (Every time I think about an animal lounge, I just picture them sipping martinis and decrying the lack of civilized travel and their disbelief that they allowed dogs and ferrets into the lounge.  And then catching a whiff of tiger and realizing they might soon be someone's appetizer.)  The cool part about this is the pet relocation company gave me their air waybill number so I could track them like a package.  While they landed about the same time as me (albeit at a different airport) it apparently takes cargo a really long time to clear customs, but they finally cleared and were picked up by the local pet relocation contacts who delivered them to my apartment just a bit before midnight.

They seemed generally fine, though Oxley had had a bit of an accident in his crate.  That didn't stop him or Banes from immediately meowing, "Where's the food?!"  Ah, the Lads.....  Oxley also had a bit of an issue with the new litter box I had purchased, which had a covering over the top to assist in corralling both unpleasant scents as well as cat litter.  I think it reminded him of the crates, so a bit of training was necessary to help him get used to it.  In the interim, the cleaning lady rolled up all rugs except the one in my bedroom, so I'm not sure whether there was an incident or this was a precautionary measure.  At this point, I think we are at the point where we can have some rugs.

So the answer?  $3,400 and some change.  Oh, and the firm decided that this wasn't included in my package since it wasn't a long term assignment but a short term assignment following a three year long-term assignment.  WHAT?!  Somehow I don't think they would treat the human children of people this way and I'm not done with this issue yet.

11 March 2012 - Getting a work permit - on Sunday

Upon entering Russia with your visa that was issued to allow you to get a work permit, you must meet in person with the FMS (Federal Migration Service) within three business days of your arrival for an interview in order to actually get the work permit. I had heard from others that there was a long interview involved as well as lots of stamping of documents. The firm provides someone to take you through this experience that is generally performed entirely in Russian. I faced this with a bit of trepidation.

So my colleagues in Russia set up a meeting with the FMS the Sunday after I arrived. Yes, that's right, a Sunday. The previous Thursday was a national holiday (International Women's Day), so people also took off Friday in exchange for working on Sunday so that they still had a sort of three day weekend. I thought this was just something that our firm was doing and assumed that if the government gave its employees the Friday off, they certainly wouldn't make them work on Sunday (I mean, they're government employees and don't they usually get more holidays off than the rest of us?). But I was wrong. Not only were they working, but the offices were open for business to the public just like on any other business day. This was the beginning of my confusion over the process that was to follow.

Overall, I was surprised with the reality of it all, though - extremely quick, direct and efficient. Yes, we are talking about a government agency here.

The office where we had an appointment was only a short cab ride away. It was a relatively drab, non-descript building that didn't exactly scream "government" in the way that many other drab, non-descript buildings might. The outer door was unlocked and we walked right in and through a metal detector that beeped quite a bit as we passed through. At the top of the staircase as you entered were some security types watching people come in, but who were apparently unperturbed by the beeping and not inclined to ask to search our bags for possible weapons as might be the case at a federal building in the U.S. Also unlike the U.S., we walked directly to a door, knocked and walked in, and were directly in someone's office. No gate keepers. No queue. I was so confused.

When we walked into the office, the first thing I noticed was, of course, the occupant of the office - a relatively young woman in her late 20s or early 30s dressed in a way that suggested competence and professionalism. Hmmmm.

The second thing I noticed was the ambience. By which I mean the chill music that was playing in the background. Where is the horrible elevator music? This was actually, well, pleasant. Not so governmental.....

The third thing that caught my eye was the computer on the desk. No, not an aging PC from the 90s, but an iMac. Which I suppose might also have been enabling the chill music.

And the final thing that I really was not expecting? A Liebherr calendar. No, not featuring their line of eco-friendly refrigerators (including wine cabinets, not that I have been checking), but their heavy construction equipment. German/Swiss equipment. Featured in a government office of a trendy young woman chilling out while working on her iMac. Fabulous. Perhaps it instilled a bit of Swiss efficiency into the process as this normally bureaucratic process was accomplished in just about 5 minutes!

Anyway, I got the work permit. I learned later that those who get the full work permit, versus the HQS type, have to go to a large building on the outskirts of the city where there are long lines and a lot of frustration. Ah, THAT sounds more like government in action, no matter where you go.

21 March 2012 - Busy season food

The first few months of the year are pretty hectic for auditors and are generally known collectively as "busy season." (It is not the same thing as tax season, which most people seem to think of when they think about accountants, though there is of course some overlap.) Audit busy season is not driven entirely by a deadline as it may be for one's personal taxes, though there are similarities. The frenetic time is primarily driven by the simple fact that the majority of companies have a fiscal year that is the same as the calendar year. So they close their books in early January and then expect the auditors to be immediately available to audit said books. Publicly traded companies do indeed have deadlines by which they must file their audited financial statements, so they generally get priority. But any way you look at it, everything needs to get done before 31 March because then you are in the midst of first quarter financials and the cycle just keeps on going.

The practical impact of this is that auditors work like dogs during these months, working late into the night and on weekends and generally are not allowed to take vacations (and if they do, they risk the scorn of their colleagues who are still slaving away at the office while they are on the beach or hitting the slopes). This time of year also coincides with cold and flu season, so add sickness to the mix and it can be a really miserable time of year.

The firm does try to ease the pain as much as possible, though. In our Chicago office, for example, free lunch was provided in the office on Saturday. Generally, our professionals are out at the client during the week, but the clients aren't wild about us roaming about their premises unsupervised, I suspect, so the teams often work at home or in the office, so this is a nice perk.

In Frankfurt, I don't recall any perks other than the monthly cocktail hours held on Friday evening at the office, which happens throughout the year. And let's be honest, who wants to spend a Friday night drinking at the office rather than spending precious hours with friends or family?

Our Moscow office, though, takes busy season seriously and demonstrates it through a lot of feeding. It starts in the morning. First, a plate of sliced lemons is delivered in each kitchen area to be used with the tea (which is the preferred drink here, rather than coffee, which is difficult for me to get accustomed to). Then, somewhere around nine, a huge basket of fruit is also delivered to the kitchen areas. You can tell when it has arrived as a swarm of people is making its way towards the kitchen. Same fruit every day - bananas, apples and oranges. And finally, at 8 PM, pizza or some other type of dinner is delivered, though it's not clear to me where the feast occurs - I just see audit colleagues bringing some of the spoils back to their desks. All in all, though, a very nice gesture that improves morale, might strengthen immune systems through the healthy fruit and lets our people know we do care about them. Well, and their productivity. ;-)

18 March 2012 - In search of legality

(Warning: This blog posting is likely to be a bit on the dry side, but I consider it an important part of getting to Russia, so I'm sharing it anyway. It'll also give you a bit of the frustration involved in the process.)

Despite our obvious charms (and our arrogance, of course), there are some places where the famous blue passport (you know the one I'm talkin' about and it is not the one from Canada) isn't enough to let you into another country. You know, such as countries that have traditionally had issues with the US -- like Russia and China. So a visa application is required, which visa varies depending on how much time you have, the amount you're willing to pay (no, not talking about bribes), the purpose of your visit and, of course, whether it appears that you want to stay there for the rest of your life or if you will indeed leave.

(As a side note, do you know that US passports were generally green until 1976 when the color was changed to blue in honor of the bicentennial? Or have you seen one of the limited edition green ones that were issued for about a year starting in 1993 to commemorate 200 years of the US Consular Service. There were also red passport covers in the past. Who knew??)

Anyway, when I first learned that I needed to go to Russia, I had very little time as I wanted to get here for as much transition time as possible with my predecessor in the job. Alas, getting a business visa is not a very quick thing. As near as I can tell, our firm in Germany must issue a request letter that indicates a bunch of things. Our firm in Russia, in term, submits something to the Russian government, which then (if you're lucky) issues an official invitation letter. That must be physically mailed/shipped from Russia to Germany, which takes about two days. THEN you begin the real visa request process, which involves filling out a very long firm reminiscent of my requests for licenses to practice law or be a public accountant, in terms of requiring a lot of detailed information about where you have gone to school, where you have lived and a bunch of things you have likely forgotten about and must spend some time researching. (My favorite request was a list of all the countries I have visited in the past 10 years and the year of travel. Seriously?!) In my case, I then turned over my passport along with the application form, an extra passport photo and the invitation letter to a visa service provider.

I don't know about you, but when I am in a country that is not my own, I get a bit nervous about handing over my passport. And while it's true that you don't generally have to show state-issued photo identification to travel within the Schengen zone countries (generally the European Union with a few notable exceptions like the UK not participating but Switzerland does), when you show up at a German hotel and speak in English, you are usually asked for your passport.

Now, as luck would have it, I was scheduled to be traveling the day that the official invitation letter should be received from Russia. Ditto for our entire practice. So I had to beg a poor, unsuspecting intern who wasn't attending the meetings with the rest of us to please pick up our mail from the mailroom, look for this envelope for me, and then combine it with the precious packet of documents containing my passport, and take it to the visa service provider. Meanwhile, I made a color photocopy of my passport and asked (okay, begged) my assistant to please call the hotel and make sure I would be able to check in without the original passport. They said they would note it, and indeed it wasn't a problem. I still felt a bit naked without that little blue book, though!

When we submitted the application, there was also a bit of a mystery as to how long it should take to get the visa (a double-entry business visa). One source said it would be 5-7 business days (which would get me there after my predecessor was already gone), whereas another said 3-5 business days for expedited service. Fortunately, the latter range was correct. But still, I had to book flights and hotel in advance in order to request the visa, so each day was a guessing game of whether I would indeed travel then or if I would have to re-schedule. I also had another trip to Munich that raised my anxiety again about traveling without my passport. Fortunately, though, everything worked out and I traveled to Moscow with about three days of transition time with the predecessor.

I was only able to stay in Moscow about a week for my first trip due to some meetings I had to attend in Prague. This meant that when I returned, I would essentially have to camp out there until my work permit was ready as otherwise I would have no right to re-enter the country. No problem, though. I mean, how long could that really be?

Most work permits take at least three months to obtain, which was time we didn't have. There is a faster kind of work permit/visa known as the HQS (for Highly Qualified Specialist - don't laugh when you think of me and this label in the same sentence, please). This one could allegedly be obtained in about four weeks from the time that I had a contract with the Russian firm. So on the first of February, I signed a contract and the estimated availability of the work permit was 24 February. Terrific. So I felt comfortable leaving Russia on the 19th of February for a client matter back in the European Union, with the idea that I would be on site at the client on 20-23 February, then return to Frankfurt on the 24th and pick up the work permit then. I followed up periodically to ensure that the 24th was still the date we were shooting for and nothing seemed to change. Terrific. Everything functioning as planned. I felt like I still lived in Germany....

There was one slight wrinkle in that the 23rd was a national holiday in Russia (Motherland Defenders Day) and many were also taking the 24th off, though the latter wasn't an official national holiday. On the 22nd, it occurred to me that I wasn't sure how/where I should pick up the work permit, so I sent an email to our team in Russia to see what the plan was. With the three hour time difference, the team had already gone home for the day/holiday, though I did get a response on the 24th, right around the time I landed in Frankfurt. Essentially, due to the holiday, the Russian government hadn't yet provided the invitation letter, so things would be delayed a while for the visa.

What invitation letter? What visa? What about the work permit? Despite the weeks of obsessive-compulsively (Lord help me, I AM an accountant with a checklist problem) re-confirming the process and timeline, I was told that the 24th was the day that our firm in Russia expected to get yet another invitation letter from the Russian government. This would then have to be mailed to us in Frankfurt, upon receipt of which we would have to do yet another visa that would likely take another week. Uhhh, WHAT?!!!! I noted that they had arranged for me to move into my corporate apartment in Moscow on the 1st of March, so even if they'd gotten the letter on time, there was no way under the timeline they'd just outlined that that was possible. "Well...."

This is about the time that I saw my carefully crafted timetable begin to disintegrate and my life as I knew it begin a sort of death spiral. That timetable looked as follows (24th was a Friday):

• 25-26 Feb - Haircut in Frankfurt (I remain freaked out by the idea of finding a hairdresser in Russia and let's not even ponder the whole coloring aspect - and I think color will be even more important with the stress-induced proliferation of silver strands that will be occurring in the next months). And then frantic work to determine which things I could fit in suitcases to take to Russia, which things should be thrown out, which electrical goods I needed to find homes for, and which things should be sent via sea to the US in a shipping container and placed in storage until my arrival. And hopefully dinner or brunch with my fantastic neighbors.
• 27 Feb - Lads to the veterinarian for a health certificate and parasite treatment. Russia requires that the parasite treatment be administered within 3-5 days of travel.
• 28 Feb - Moving day, after which my apartment would no longer be livable for humans (but perhaps okay for cats awaiting their transport)
• 29 Feb - Return of Hudson, my delightful A5 lease car. Pick-up of Lads by PetRelocation.com contact for the journey; they will spend the night in Lufthansa's Animal Lounge (not joking - http://lufthansa-cargo.com/index.php?id=138).
• 1 March - Flight to Russia. Lads arrive in Russia.

So moving one piece of this puzzle would more or less cause the house of cards to come down. Lovely. So, what to do? Well, not a whole lot of options other than just rolling with the flow and seeing what happened.

The invitation letter finally arrived in Frankfurt on Wednesday, along with a reminder that I would need an HIV test. Huh? There was also a recommendation to use a visa service in Berlin. I asked whether this visa was procedurally different than the previous one, in which case I would prefer to have the local visa service do the work so we didn't lose even more time shipping the passport (!!) and other documents to Berlin and back. They said it wouldn't matter. So while I was rushing to my doctor to get an HIV test, I had my assistant contact the local visa service to ensure that they could perform the work and to get an idea of how long this might take.

When I finally emerged from the doctor's office (miraculously, they did not see fit to give me an infusion via IV as in the past, so the appointment only took a little over an hour instead of the regular 2-3 hour visit), a few things had taken place. First, the local visa service said that an HIV test (results of which wouldn't be available until Friday, which already had me concerned) were not needed in Frankfurt, only in Berlin. Um, why would it matter where you applied? No one seemed to know.

The other tidbit is that the local visa service said that because the duration of this visa was over three months, they could not take care of the visa for me and I would need to physically present myself at the Russian consulate in Frankfurt, which naturally does not accept appointments in advance. It also wasn't clear whether they would speak English. Lovely.... So I was set to just show up on Thursday morning when they opened and hope for the best.

Lucky for me, one of the professionals in our group in Frankfurt (I will call her Lyudmila) is Russian and trilingual and has visited the consulate before. She described the situation outside the consulate as having a gated area where everyone just crowds together. A guy comes out and speaks in Russian, and you essentially have to push your way to the front and yell out (in Russian) that you are there for a visa and then perhaps he'll let you through the gate. This did not sound very promising for a non-Russian speaker and someone who is generally not physically assertive in crowd situations. Fortunately, though, Lyudmila took pity on me and agreed to go with me the following morning.

The situation was exactly as she described it. She positioned us outside the gated area near the exit door in the wrought iron gate, and when the guy came out she called out about the visa and he let us in the exit. Just like that. We then headed to the visa area, waited a relatively short period, gave the guy my paperwork, he had us go to the cashier to pay the fee, and then he gave us some sort of a receipt and said that maybe the visa would be ready the following Tuesday. Maybe.

The upside of this is that I suddenly had an extra weekend in Frankfurt, though this was less appealing since I no longer had an apartment with furniture in it. The downside, of course, is that there was still no certainty on when I would be able to go to Russia, not to mention that I was supposed to be out-of-town in meetings Tuesday afternoon through Thursday morning (yes, more traveling sans passport) and, oh yeah, Thursday morning was another Russian holiday and likely the consulate would also take Friday off. So if the visa wasn't available on Tuesday morning, I likely wouldn't be able to collect it until the following Monday unless they would accept someone else picking it up.

There is yet another additional twist to the process. The visa that I was applying for would get me back into Russia, but there was still the matter of getting the official work permit itself. So because the visa was premised on my getting said work permit, I needed to have an in-person meeting with the FMS (Federal Migration Service) within three business days of arriving. Which might be fine if I got the visa on Tuesday and could indeed fly to Russia on Friday. But if I had to wait until the following Monday to get the visa, there would not be time to get to Russia, have the meeting with the FMS, and then get to Amsterdam in time for meetings that were supposed to begin on Tuesday evening.

If you're confused by this point, you would not be alone. I felt like I was a pawn of some kind in a giant critical path chart with multiple activities that kept getting changed and the critical path was getting longer and longer by the day. Unpleasant.

Lyudmila and I were back at the consulate in Frankfurt at the crack of dawn (okay, shortly before it opened at 9 AM) on Tuesday. Same crowded gate scenario, though this time we did have to elbow our way to the front of the queue rather than being let in through the exit door. Miraculously, the visa was ready and I was able to fly to Russia on Friday.

Believe it or not, though, this long entry is far from the entire story. The saga of the related logistics is perhaps even longer and will be the source of future blogs, though they will hopefully be a little less boring!

24 January 2012 - Mother Russia Calling

It's a long story, but in short I have been asked to spend the remainder of my time in Europe in Russia as acting leader of our practice covering the Commonwealth of Independent States region. This of course has a lot of logistical challenges that I will no doubt be discussing in future posts, but I am excited about the opportunity, not to mention that it may be interesting to be here during the upcoming elections at the beginning of March.

I flew over as soon as I was able to get a double-entry business visa. There is at present a three hour time difference between Moscow and Frankfurt (thanks to a random decision by President Medvedev to not let the time "fall back" at the end of the summer). So the next-to-last flight from Frankfurt leaves at around 18:00 but you land just before midnight in Moscow. Delightful.

As a typical American who grew up during the cold war, the idea of being in Russia and not speaking the language is a bit unsettling when you first approach passport control. Especially after the protests in December regarding allegedly flawed/rigged elections for the Duma were blamed on the U.S. at least in part. But I was allowed in with only a question on where I had flown from.

The firm had arranged for a driver to meet me at the airport, which I was most grateful for at this early hour (it was about 01:00 by the time I was headed out of baggage claim and was not, thank goodness, asked to stop and show the contents of my gigantaur Rimowa suitcase that was brimming with things like snow boots and sweaters to keep me warm and clothed for over a week). I had been warned that the taxi drivers at the airport and around the city are not as regulated, shall we say, as in many other international cities (see also the blog posting on taxis in Frankfurt) and may not always employ meters - you just bargain for the amount you're willing to pay to go someplace, which would be difficult if you don't know where you're going and don't speak Russian. I apparently have "target" or "not from here" written on my forehead because as soon as I emerged from baggage claim I was immediately assailed by taxi drivers urging rather forcefully that I was waiting for them. Um, no, not so much. I was sooooo pleased to see a guy standing with a sign with our logo. Whew!

The guy didn't really speak much English but following him was a no-brainer. Until we got outside, where it's snowing, wickedly cold, and he's leading me across a large area that I thought was a parking lot but was in fact a road, which I learned as a few cars came driving straight at us! We finally got to the car, which was not exactly what I was expecting. Perhaps I have spent too much time in Germany, but I guess I had been expecting a small Mercedes or BMW. No, I believe this was a Toyota Corolla that seemed more like it was a personal vehicle than one used to transport strangers on a regular basis. But somehow its trunk managed to accommodate the large suitcase and off we went. It took nearly an hour for us to get to the hotel, which I guess is amazing time compared to what it takes during the day when traffic is insane. What wasn't quite clear to me, though, was whether or not I was supposed to pay the driver or whether it was being billed to the firm. He pushed a form to me written in Russian and indicated I should sign. Okay.... Also not clear whether I was supposed to add a tip. But since I had no Rubles on me, I didn't have to think about that one very long.

Until my corporate apartment is ready, I am staying at the Swissotel, which is across a main road (more like a highway) from our office and is technically on an island between the Moskva River and a channel/canal (the purpose and history of which I do not know but intend to learn). It's a very nice property and rather high, thus affording some amazing views. I am typing this from the executive lounge on the 19th floor and have a beautiful view of the Kremlin from here, which was also part of the view from my room on that first night here, though I had no idea what exactly I was looking at, only that there were an awful lot of lights out there and the canal that was frozen over looked awfully cold. But with the difference in time that first night, I was wired. So I could not help but take a couple pictures of the Sarah Palin action figure with that view - this most assuredly was not the Russia one might see from one's kitchen window in Wasila (though I realize she never actually said that - but come on, you could easily hear her making such a statement, right?).

The next morning, one of my new colleagues picked me up at the hotel in his car and we drove over to the office, which I thought was a very nice, welcoming gesture. It was a busy but productive day. Towards the end, though, the young woman from our Mobility group in Russia (I will call her Katya) called to ask if I knew how to get back to the hotel. Well, it's just right across the highway - how difficult can it be? But she volunteered to walk me back that evening to make sure that I found it because it might be a bit tricky the first time. And she was right. First, we had to navigate our way out of the maze of connected buildings of the firm (it took me about a week to figure out where I was and which entrance was the one with the ATM). Then you walk along the canal for a couple blocks, then cross the canal. About half a block after you cross the canal, you descend down some stairs and then take a tunnel underneath the highway. At the other side, you repeat the procedure - stairway back up to the surface, cross back across the canal, and then about a block later you are at the hotel.

But it was in the tunnel where things were a bit more interesting. When you reach the bottom of the stairs, there is a little kiosk that is little more than a closet - maybe about half the size of one of those old Fotomat kiosks there used to be in the US in random parking lots at strip malls (how much am I dating myself here?!). Visible within the glass/plastic portions are various baked goods - rolls, bread and the like. AND there are also baking capabilities inside. So there's this bizarre smell of baked goods mixed with the dank (if that can be a scent), wet smell of the tunnel.

And maybe something else. As we proceeded through the tunnel, an interesting visual came into view at the other end of the tunnel. (I am kicking myself that I was staring too much to get a photo.) There was an old man there with a little kid. No, not child. Kid, as in goat. A little white one. Okay, odd, to be sure, but it gets better. The kid was wearing a coat. The coat of a human. It seemed to be a reversible quilted down or faux-down thing that was dirty beige (or just dirty) on the outside and (based on the sleeves rolled up around his front knees) a rusty brown on the other side. Totally bizarre. I was trying not to stare, but reminded myself that I was in a different country and that things were different here. And around that time Katya looked at me and, also seeming a bit speechless as well as reading my mind, said, "That's not normal. Even for Russia, that is not normal."

And so began the adventure....

1-2 February 2012 - Domodedovo

("Pennsylvania Polka" by Frankie Yankovic)

Last Wednesday I had a bit more eventful trip back to Frankfurt than I had imagined. I was flying on Lufthansa (natürlich!) out of the Domodedovo airport. I had scheduled to have a taxi pick me up at the office at 16:30, but then a meeting I couldn't really skip (it was, after all, my first real week here in Moscow as the acting leader) came up. I asked my assistant if she could move back the taxi. "Yes, but not if you still want to make your flight." Good point, as I would then be in rush hour traffic, which is more ridiculous here than I can begin to explain. She noted, however, that it would be possible to make it if I took the train. Hmmm..... I had not experimented with non-taxi transit here other than, as a good friend would say, the Ten Toes Express (walking).

One of our managers said it was quite doable and the station from which the airport express (Aeroexpress) train leaves is only a 10 minute walk from the office or so. I had been at that station over the weekend when I was wandering around, but the idea of trying to find the right track, buying a ticket and the fear of everything being in Russian was a bit daunting. Not to worry - he said he'd have one of our interns help me make it. Okay. So off to the meeting I went.

When I returned to my office, the poor intern assigned to escort me was waiting, along with three other staff. They presented me with the most charming gift! They knew that I was working on learning the Cyrillic alphabet, so they had created an alphabet for our team. For each of the Cyrillic characters, there was a key to pronunciation, an example of the letter used in the name of one of our colleagues, and then a picture of said colleague. So with this document, I could both learn the Cyrillic characters, their pronunciation, as well as the names and faces of most of our professionals. I love it and have been showing it off wherever I go!

So off the poor, hapless intern (to protect the innocent, as always, I will call him Ivan, which is not his real name) and I went to the train station. Now, because I had learned the night before that I was going to have to move over my belongings from Frankfurt to Moscow solely via excess baggage, I left the suits and some other things (like the Sarah Palin doll I had with me) in my office.

However, I still had my large Rimowa (again, natürlich!) metal suitcase with me and, smooth roller that it is, it is still a bit large. Especially when dealing with the sometimes icy or snow-packed streets of Moscow. Ivan took one look at the suitcase and took over responsibility for its navigation, despite my protests. He even carried the brute at times when he thought that the sound of the rollers on the paving stones was a bit loud. Great guy. And I was glad to have him with me as we went into a different entrance than I'd seen on the weekend and would have been totally lost.

It turned out that the Aeroexpress ticket kiosks were actually multi-lingual, so I had no issue at all in purchasing a ticket. But after I purchased my ticket, Ivan looked at me quizzically and asked about his ticket. Ummm.... Apparently the manager who was looking out for my interests had told Ivan to go with me all the way to the airport to make sure I made it okay, got checked in, etc. Incredibly kind of both of them. But I told Ivan that since the Aeroexpress went directly to the terminal with no stops, it would be difficult for even me to get lost and I'd navigated my way around airports before and could probably figure that out, too. He needn't spend his evening (it was already 18:30) taking me to

the airport, getting me settled, and then going back into the city. And I was still horrified at the idea that I had become one of "those partners" with someone to literally carry my bag for me! He nevertheless insisted on at least waiting until I boarded the train. Very sweet.

The Aeroexpress was just fine. Nothing luxurious and not really all that fast (as compared to, for example, the Arlanda Express in Stockholm or Heathrow Express in London), but it was certainly faster than the drive from the airport to the city at around 2 AM when I had arrived, so I assumed it was supersonic compared to rush hour traffic.

I arrived in plenty of time for my scheduled departure, only to discover that the flight was delayed by about an hour due to mechanical problems. So I hung out in the Lufthansa lounge (not the Star Alliance Lounge, mind you - for whatever reason Austrian and Swiss both had their own lounges which seems like a bit of a waste of money and redundancy, but what do I know?).

I was a bit surprised by the decor - big wicker chairs with cushions that made you sink down to the point where it is a bit difficult to get up. But it was nice enough. There was some kind of hot buckwheat available as well as an interesting beet root salad and a few other things. Surprisingly, at least for Lufthansa, not a self-service bar for either coffee or adult beverages. I asked for a glass of red wine and was a bit surprised to get a white wine, which was poured out of the bottle using one of those narrow plastic spouts like one might see used for hard liquor at a bar. But I decided not to argue and grabbed a bottle of water for my wait (good call, as it would turn out). Then I returned to my deep wicker chair to stare out the window at the inky blackness broken by falling and blowing snow, but alas not by the sight of the familiar Lufthansa tail.

Our flight finally boarded around 21:45 (18:45 CET). I had managed to score the great exit window seat with now seat in front, so mad wicked legroom (you know, for my long legs and all). This also turned out to have been a good call, because after we pulled out of our gate position the captain announced that there was a different mechanical problem and so we were going to go chill out (literally and figuratively - it was around -20C at this point) somewhere out on the tarmac and the mechanic would meet us out. So I stretched out and read a bit, thinking (this is Lufthansa, after all) that we would soon be on our way. About 15 minutes into this, a woman with children asked what she was supposed to do because she and her family were supposed to catch a connecting flight to Argentina in Frankfurt and if they didn't make their connection, what would happen because they didn't have visas to enter Germany. The flight attendants tried to calm her down, but she was becoming a bit billigerant, as was her husband. Not really anything the flight attendants could do, though I hadn't really thought about that type of situation before in terms of canceled flights because I think all Lufthansa flights I had been on before were either within the EU or US, and obviously within the EU there's not a visa issue. Hmmm....

Probably another 15 minutes later, the captain announced that even if the mechanic arrived soon, there wasn't going to be enough time to make the repairs and get us into Frankfurt by 23:00 CET. Apparently effective 1 January as part of some negotiation for the airport expansion, there was a new noise abatement rule that prohibited flights in or out of Frankfurt between 23:00 and 5:00. WHAT?! He was waiting for more information on our gate back in the terminal.

Phones were still allowed as we waited, so I tried to call our corporate travel agent in Germany to see if they could book me on another flight out either that night or the next morning, either to Frankfurt or to Prague where I was slated to fly first thing the following morning. Just as they answered the phone and I was beginning to explain my situation, the pilot announced that the mechanic had just arrived, so the flight might still be on. Someone behind me said, "I'm going to kill you." I assume she was referring to the pilot and not me, but in any event I rang off to see what the new situation was. As I ended the call, my BlackBerry buzzed. It was a message from Lufthansa saying that my flight had been canceled. The flight attendant next to me asked me to please show it to the purser because none of them had any idea what was really going on.

They brought a bus out to our position on the tarmac to take us back to the terminal. It was a very cold walk down those steps from the flight, let me tell you. No one should be on the tarmac in -22 temps! They drove us to the terminal and let us out at a point where there were about 100 people inside waiting for other flights. Wasn't the gate from which we had departed. There was NO ONE there from Lufthansa. No direction. Nothing. Uhhh.... So I and the other passengers (it was a rather empty flight) started talking amongst ourselves to figure out what to do.

A few of us had been in the lounge together before the flight and so we headed back up to the lounge to see if they could help. When we got there, the attendants said that they do not work for Lufthansa, so they couldn't help us. Uhhh.... So one of the guys called Lufthansa in Germany on his cell phone. They weren't very helpful, either, but told us that we should go to the check-in desk outside of security.

The "outside of security" part of that proved a bit interesting. And I suddenly had a greater appreciation for the arguments that the woman headed for Argentina had voiced. I was traveling on a double-entry business visa and they had closed out and stamped the first entry when I had gone through passport control. So even if we could figure out how to get out of the general terminal area, how does one "undo" the departure and attempt to explain to passport control the next morning how I was leaving the country without having entered.

When you enter the country, you also have to complete an entry form and you keep that with you until you leave, so of course those had also been collected by passport control. Hmmm.... But certainly this happens all the time with canceled flights in Moscow due to weather, etc. (Then again, one might assume that Lufthansa would also be more prepared for a flight cancellation than was apparently the case.)

Somehow we found someone from passport control to assist us. Well, at least I think he was from passport control. We were on the wrong side of passport control and this guy in a uniform motioned all of us (we had a group of about 15 people who just stuck together the entire evening, it was quite nice) to a place off to the side and next to the side wall of one of the passport control booths. We then approached him one at a time, gave him the boarding pass and passport. He studied both, ripped off the luggage sticker from the boarding pass, pocketed the boarding pass, and put a different stamp diagonally across the departure stamp on the visa, and we were permitted back into the area before passport control. It was rather odd.

We then headed to the check-in desk. She said that she couldn't assist us and we should try the ticketing desk. So off we went.

There was a rather harried looking woman at the ticketing desk who did not seem at all happy to see us approach her. It probably didn't help when, simultaneously, people started addressing her in Russian, German, English and another Slavic sounding language I didn't recognize, all while the exhausted infant of the Argentina-bound couple began wailing. After a few minutes of this, she got up and walked behind the front area, apparently with no explanation. Uhhh.....

Quite a while passed, but then someone not wearing any sort of Lufthansa branding or badging showed up and we were apparently supposed to follow her to collect our luggage. Okay.... So she takes us to where one exits from baggage claim and, after some words she had with someone at the entrance, we went "in" the "out" door. But we were in, and miraculously our bags were there. What a relief. One minor difficulty - the guy at the exit wanted us to show our boarding passes to exit the area - yes, the same boarding passes that the guy on the wrong side of passport control had pocketed. More exchanges of words in Russian and our attempts in German and English and we and our bags were allowed out.

We went back to the ticketing desk, hopefully something would have magically happened while we were gone. Not exactly miraculous, but at least progress - they had our boarding passes ready for our respective morning flights. Good news as it was approaching midnight and we were a bit tired, not to mention hungry, as we hadn't obviously received our dinner on the flight. The woman at the desk passed out the boarding passes, and then we began asking about the hotel arrangements, etc. Around this time, the woman got very irritated and noted that it was midnight and her shift was over. And she went behind the desk area. Uhhhh.....???

One of the guys called Lufthansa in German again and was telling them in very strong terms that this was, well, bullshit. And we waited a while longer. About 30 minutes later a guy in his 50s approached from behind us (not from behind the desk) wearing a Lufthansa airport badge. And got right to work - albeit at a snail's pace. He let us know that that the restaurant wouldn't be open at our hotel, and there weren't really any other places open at the airport at this hour (we're now past 1 AM), but he'd give us food vouchers anyway. It took him FOR-EVER (foreva eva?) to get the hotel vouchers to us. I was the next to the last one to get mine and waited for the other guy who'd been seated in my row to head to the airport. The Lufthansa guy assured us that there was a hotel shuttle outside. "At 2 AM???!" Yes.

Liar, liar, pants on fire! But they'd be cooling quickly due to the frigid temps. We walked outside and a taxi driver asked if we were looking for Aerotel. Yes, we're looking for the shuttle. "No shuttle. I'll drive you." Now, I've been warned about potentially unscrupulous taxi drivers so who knew whether he was lying about the shuttle or not. But it's -20 outside and neither of us were in the mood to wait outside in the cold for 15 minutes to see if the shuttle showed up.

And our deluxe voucher didn't even contain the address or phone number of the hotel, so we couldn't exactly call them to ask about the shuttle status. So the guy I was with (still don't know his name or the names of the others in our merry band of angry sheep) negotiated transit for us for RUB 500 (over $15) for our transit. Which transit turned out to be about 700 meters. But we were there.

The woman at the desk took care of some paperwork and then handed me the plastic card that in any other situation would be the room key. But this was unlike any other situation. She noted that this was NOT a key, but was for the lights. That my room was open, but lockable from inside, and if I left and shut the door, I would need to have someone f

rom the hotel staff to open it for me.

Ummm, really? Now, I understand the concept of putting the card key into a slot in the wall to turn on the lights. I'm a fan, actually, as I assume this has the potential to really save electricity (though is confounded by hotels that give you two keys and you end up leaving one in the slot the entire time). But when I got to the room, it really was open. As in the door was wide open.

Ummm..... I crept in, having visions of rapists lurking in the closets. Nope. Empty. Of virtually everything. Not even a cheap fake oil painting screwed to the wall. Other than the (very unexpected) presence of a hair dryer, it mostly resembled a type of cell. A rather cold cell. Twin bed with suspect bedspread. No independent temperature controls. And paper-thin walls or floors so I could hear a group of apparently drunk men singing something at the tops of their voices. It was now about 2:30 and I needed to wake up around 5:00, so I attempted to go to sleep. Wearing virtually every scrap of dirty clothing I had (which was all that I had in my suitcase) to keep warm. And every time I felt an itch (often), I was certain it was bed bugs or lice. I tried to comfort myself with the idea that even these creatures must not survive in these inhospitable temperatures. It didn't really help. Relatively sleepless night.

The next morning was literally and figuratively Groundhog's Day. In addition to it being February 2, I found myself back in the Lufthansa lounge. It was still dark. Still cold. Still snowing. I was in the same clothing. Same beetroot salad. Same white-wine pouring person at the bar (I was on coffee this morning). And even the prior day's newspapers (perhaps they arrive on a later incoming flight?). And the same passengers from the previous night, who by now seemed like friends. The only difference was this time, blessedly, the bird actually took off.

But I'm still not ready to forgive Lufthansa for such an incredible lapse in service. Even if this is Russia and things are different here, I expect German organization for contingencies to address situations like this that must happen quite often.