Adventures in Registration

Had I only read the sentence printed on my immigration card properly. In order to stay in Kazakhstan for longer than 3 days, one needs to register with the local authorities. Usually, this is done by a travel agency, who send their staff in the building and arrange everything for the disinformed foreigner. Aidar and me, however, did it the hardcore way – we went in there alone.

The entrance of the building, located some meters away from the street, already brimmed with people. Inside, there was no better picture. Bureaucracy meets Central Asian temper – what a mess. After finding the right queue to stand in, we had to wait and, most importantly, defend our position against other, more experienced people. Use your elbows, bro!

After getting it right, the police officer only gave us a small, brownish document to fill in; which we did in the front of a huge crowd of people eagerly trying to get to chat with the mighty person behind the glass. What a clamour. After having completed the paperwork, the officer only told us to get a damn copy of Aidar’s house registration, making sure that the place I claim to live in actually exists. My head turns red.

Then, the cashier. Is there a difference between the fee for a single-entry and multiple-entry visa? We didn’t know, and the lady behind the glasswall did either. She only acknowledged Aidar’s continuous questions by totally loosing the plot. She started to scream and literally threw the receipt through the little slip. Everyone’s yelling.

So, we need to go there again. Tomorrow. Early! I don’t know what they will invent for us by then, maybe I need to get my birth certificate flown in from home. Well, at least I didn’t need to get a Kazakh passport. Aidar tells that this takes up to four days of worse trouble. Hell, had I only gone to an agency. But money doesn’t buy you experience, does it?

My work situation is still pretty blurry. No word from London yet about my contacts in the local bank. I will wait a couple of days before I’ll change my plans. We’ll see. Kenesh just invited me to observe the Kyrgyz elections with him in the Wild South, where the ‘Tulip Revolution’ sparked off. Can a trip there be more challenging than getting yourself registered in leafy Almaty, Kazakhstan? Only god knows.

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