Russia: Visas, Dachas & The Joy of Bureaucracy
As a UK citizen, you need a visa to visit Russia regardless of what connections you may have maritally.
To get a visa, you need an official “invitation.” This sounds important, but it’s basically a formality you can buy online for about 15 quid through an agency. You then apply for the actual visa — another £77 — through the official agency in London.
Once granted (for a maximum of one month), the real fun begins: registering your visa within seven working days of arrival.
This used to be required within 72 business hours, which is why I always flew Friday morning and left Tuesday night — a travel hack born purely from avoiding Russian admin.
Visa Registration: A Sport in Its Own Right
Getting your visa registered in Russia is one of life’s more painful experiences. I’ve had more fun trapping my fingers in a car door.
You fill in a form, take your passport, and head to the local police centre — whose opening hours appear to be based on the staff’s mood rather than any published schedule.
Inside, you fight your way through hordes of other poor souls dealing with their own bureaucratic nightmares — new passports, internal passports (yes, Russians still need an internal passport to travel within Russia), and various other joys.
There’s no queue. There’s no system. There’s just the phrase “кто последний?” (“Who’s last?”) You ask, someone points, and you mentally bookmark the person you’re behind. It’s chaotic, but somehow… it works.
Eventually, a man resembling an obese hamster will call you forward (after you’ve elbowed away several attempted queue‑jumpers) and stamp your forms with all the enthusiasm of someone stamping his 10,000th form of the day.
Life at a Russian Dacha
Many Muscovites own a dacha — a summer house outside the city where people escape the madness and grow fruit and veg on plots the size of small farms. Think allotment, but with ambition.
Anya’s dad has a dacha about 90 minutes from Moscow, in a tiny village. It’s a basic wooden house with land for growing everything imaginable. The toilet is outside (with a long drop), and there’s no electricity. A perfect escape from city life — unless you enjoy lighting, heating, or flushing.
Life at the dacha is slow and peaceful. While Anya’s dad busies himself building random structures around the land Anya and I relax or help pick strawberries.
Shashlik: The King of Russian BBQ
Shashlik is a traditional Russian BBQ dish — skewered, marinated meat cooked over charcoal. Eaten with salad, bread, and washed down with vodka, it’s incredibly juicy and easily one of my favourite Russian foods.
With fresh produce from the dacha garden, it becomes a proper feast, stretching late into the evening. In summer, it stays light past 11pm, so dinner often turns into a long, lazy event.
Two Weeks Later…
We’re now nearing the end of our two weeks in Moscow. Two weeks of studying has improved my Russian slightly — I’m now confidently able to order a beer, which is arguably the most important phrase in any language.
It’s been a great experience: fun, challenging, and full of brilliant people.
Soon we’ll be back in the UK sorting out visas, tying up loose ends, and preparing for the next trip. We may be unemployed, but sadly there’s still no time to sit on our badcksides.
We continue…
