Standing at our front door was a young, uniformed policeman named Michael. I didn't know his name then, but it was clear he was a cop --he pointed to a patch on his shoulder indicating that he was from the Moscow Police Department.
Uh oh.
I don't know more than a few words of Russian. I can read signs, but I can't hold a conversation. And even though I make mental notes to myself to get a tutor, learn a few more stock phrases, I never get around to it. Life in Moscow is exhausting enough.
At first with officer Michael, I used my stock phrase, "Ya neeznayo,"
which means "I don't know." He then said a few things to me in Russian.
Uh oh.
I went to get my Russian phrasebook and passport -- except I didn't have my passport.
Uh oh.
I had dropped it off earlier in the day when I went to have our visas extended. But, I did have copies of all my paperwork. So I gave them to him. At the same time, I was fumbling through my phrasebook, and found "I don't speak Russian." I think he'd already figured that out.
He took the phrasebook from me and started looking for a word he wanted to say in English. Turns out, he knew some English. I went back to get my phone so I could make some phone calls. For reasons I don't quite comprehend, I tell him I'd be back in
a minute, "Uno momento, uno momento," I said repeatedly. Why was I speaking to a Russian police officer in Spanish?? Brain lock?
Returning to the door with my phone, Michael by now had found the English word he wanted to know: "landlord," as in who is your landlord? He also asked where I worked and who lived with me.
At that point, I decided this would be a good time to call a phone friend. I went through several numbers before I got through to Dave, an American who works as a television cameraman here and speaks Russian. I explained the situation to Dave and let him speak him speak to the cop. Dave spoke for awhile and I then was debriefed by what was happening. Someone in the building had wondered about us, and the police had come because we weren't registered with them at this address.
When a person arrives in Russia, they need to register with the authorities within 72 hours. We had done so within our first day of arriving here, but now questions were being raised if we'd done it correctly.
After speaking with Dave, Michael left me his phone number and asked me to call him when I had it all figured out--I think. I made a few more calls, and it looks like this whole thing will be resolved, somehow or another. Michael is probably going to return. I'm told this is his normal neighborhood beat. And that this is a normal situation for someone new to Russia.
Alison and I wanted to have adventure in Russia. This wasn't what we had in mind.
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