So...after a 'brief' 2 1/2 hour hold-up upon our arrival in port, we finally were able to make our way precariously down the steep metal ladder extended down alongside the ferry. Most people had spent the entire couple of hours crowded into as small and as tight of a space as possible between the exit hatch and the lobby. I cannot understand why it is human nature to leap and rush as soon as possible, despite knowing full well that no matter how quickly you scurry to the exit doors, there will still be a long wait. People always do this upon landing in an airplane, unclicking their belts, racing to grab their bag in the overhead bin, shove their newspaper or book into it, diving into the aisle, speeding half a step forward, and then standing still for 15 minutes. It always puzzles me why people do this while I finish reading another chapter of a novel, play another crossword puzzle, anything besides being in a great hurry to go nowhere.
The ferry was no exception, and certainly seemed worse. Perhaps 90% of the passengers had all of their luggage beside them and were crammed into about 1% of the ship space on the second floor with little air and no view. Due to the cramped space inside the ferry terminal immigration office, only ten or so people (out of maybe 300) were allowed to exit at a time, meaning everyone else pressed forward even tighter with still nowhere to go. I even started to pity them after my tenth trip outside to take in the fresh air and take a few photographs, a short nap in my cabin, watching a FULL hour-long TV program on men's health and fitness, and reading some of 'The Brothers Karamazov'. Perhaps I took it to the other extreme as a crew member was coming through checking that all the rooms were empty and searching for the single key that had yet to be returned to the counter in the lobby. Where was this missing key? In my hand of course. Sorry about that, ma'am.
So finally we walked off the ferry, past unsmiling guards, and into the basement of a dark and musty building. Another large, distinctly unsmiling woman 'greeted' us as we turned corner after corner and climbed the staircase to fall into place at the very back of the furthest of six lines waiting to clear immigration. Very slowly, person by person, half Russians, half Koreans, went through and we had plenty of time to observe what was the first signs of such strict Russian security.
Besides the immigration officials behinds the one-way glass that we could not see, were a couple female guards just standing in the back of the room and observing us. Another single female guard paced back and forth at the head of the six lines looking for anything out of place. Beyond the immigration official counters we could see a few more guards appear and then disappear, all seeming to answer to one rather tall and attractive woman and one rather large and imposing man dressed in formal but street clothes. Every other guard was wearing military-style uniforms, distinctly blue. The whole scene was oppressive and more than a little unsettling. At one point, a Korean man held up his camera and looked through the lens, it was pretty obvious he never took a photo, only looked through it. The female guard pacing at the front took instant notice, told him strictly to lower his camera, and radioed to someone. She continued to stand half-hidden behind a square pillar watching his every move and never took her eyes off of him. After about two minutes, a male guard, of some Korean heritage, appeared and spoke in whispered voices with the female guard. Then both guards approached the unsuspecting Korean man and his group. They asked to see his camera and the photos he took. He said clearly that he had taken no photos and showed them the last picture on his camera. However, they made him go back to the beginning and show them every photo he had on the disk, fortunately it did not seem to be many. Then the guards asked another member of his group to show them his camera and follow the same procedure. Once they were satisfied no one had snapped a picture of the area, they glared at the group and just walked away. Intimidating...just a bit.
Another Korean man, much older, had been kept waiting on the other side of the immigration official booths and was repeatedly approached by street-clothes dressed officials. He grew more and more agitated, and it seemed that he was being held for some reason or another. Finally, after about 15 minutes of his waiting and getting frustrated, he was denied entry into Russia and asked to return outdoors. We have no idea what became of him. The ferry we arrived on doesn't leave for another couple of days.
Jihye and I were the very last two people to get to the counter, and the Russian immigration procedure is quite something. The female official is seated behind a half-glass wall that blocks some of the view. She takes your passport with absolutely no expression, stares at your picture, then at you (for an unnerving 3-5 full seconds...again at the picture, again at you, the picture, you. Then they type info. into a computer, and go through the typical process, but all the time with no communication, no expression, nothing. It takes an unusually long time, and of course the thoughts going through my head as the only American arriving in Vladivostok were many and quite varied. We had read a great deal about Russian police and officials making up rules on the go and applying fines to foreigners in whatever manner they felt necessary. Having no real recourse at this point, I was incredibly relieved to get through immigrations and past the security check in the next room, filled with six more military guards and even larger street-clothes 'officials'. Finally we were both through and in Russia. Little did we know the adventures were just about to begin.
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