On this week of annual leave I have added the following to my bucket list:
- Get involved in a borderline kidnap situation in a foreign taxi
- Get denied entry to Belarus
...and achieved them both.
The flight from Heathrow to St Petersburg was lovely as I had the entire row of 3 seats to myself, and lay across them for a nap. It was wonderful, and I landed feeling energised and ready to take on a very snowy Russia.
That was an error.
I’m reasonably well travelled and I KNOW the precautions to take when taking a taxi abroad. I know to agree a fare in advance, but he spoke minimal English and kept saying ‘taxi meter’. How badly could that realistically end up? The guy had a lanyard, so of course he must’ve been legit!
The driver seemed nice, and I feel such a muppet for writing that. I spend a good chunk of my working life explaining that people who do bad things (perpetrators of abuse) very often appear to be good people because they HAVE to - very few women would continue to date an abusive man if he leant over the dinner table on their first date and punched her in the face. No, they have to be pleasant and trustworthy (initially, at least) so they can then change when the victim is in too deep to change their mind.
The driver insisted on helping to put my rucksack in the boot which, retrospectively, was the first red flag as my passport was in there. During the drive to the city nothing specific happened, but I started feeling increasingly uneasy and distrustful of this man. I can’t pinpoint why. I turned out to be right and not just a cynical cow when he drove me to a cash point - even though he had no idea how much money I had on me. I was starting to become very aware of my vulnerability, and he was becoming scarier with each complaint I raised, or question I asked. It was also becoming clear that he spoke fluent English and the situation was getting dodgier and dodgier.
I lied and said my purse was in my rucksack, reasoning that way I could take it in the back of the car with me, and jump out of the door if I needed to. He accompanied me to the cash point where I withdrew more rubles than I thought I would ever need and then, purely for a lack of an alternative, I got back in his car. The roads were icy and fresh snow was starting to fall so traffic was moving slowly. My mobile data doesn’t work in Russia so I couldn’t use my phone to map our route against my hotels location, but I was sure we weren’t going in the right direction. I asked him how much the meter was at, and he replied 8,000 rubles - my research told me to expect to pay 800-1000. We were clearly doing laps of St Petersburg to increase the fare, and he was ignoring my instructions to take me to my hotel. I was looking out of the window to try to get my bearings, and then I spotted my hotel. He drove straight past it, so at the next set of traffic lights I chucked 5,000 rubles at him, gambled on there not being child-locks on the door (of course there wasn’t; there weren’t even seatbelts), and legged it to my hotel.
I told the receptionist about the ride, and she offered to help me report it to the police but I didn’t see the point given that I was leaving Russia for Belarus the next day. Instead she upgraded my room which was lovely. I got to my room, inserted the keycard into the door, and it was opened (from the inside) by a man who, I assume, was a hotel employee. He had no cleaning equipment with him, and the room looked entirely undisturbed, so I shrugged it off and ran myself a bath. Whilst in the bath I heard a knock at the door, which I ignored. Then came another one, so I wrapped myself in a towel and answered it (still covered in bubbles). It was a maid, offering me a chocolate, and asking if I wanted my sheets changed. I politely declined, inwardly thinking “I’ve not slept in them yet, love”, and grumpily shut the door. Then I remembered about The Man who came out of the room, contemplated what he might have done on the bedding/what the maid knew that I didn’t, and then wished I took her up on the offer.
I got up early the next morning to do the exploring of St Petersburg I was too annoyed to do yesterday, and saw frozen rivers, pretty cathedrals and churches, and an old lady fall over. In the afternoon I had a vanilla taxi ride (costing 800 rubles) to the airport, and checked in to my flight to Minsk. Well, I tried to.
Before I left I’d researched the visas I’d need, and the google blurb from gov.uk clearly stated:
“All British national passport holders (except those entering on a diplomatic or official passport) can now enter Belarus for a maximum of 30 days without a visa (the day you arrive counts as day one, regardless of arrival time).”
Marvellous.
With hindsight, I really should have clicked on the link and read the part which explained:
“If you’re travelling immediately from/to a Russian airport or entering Belarus at any other border point other than Minsk International Airport, this visa-free arrangement doesn’t apply and you’ll need a visa.”
Instead, the check-in assistant took great pleasure in informing me.
I researched my alternatives as best as I could using crappy airport WiFi. Option 1: get a flight to Estonia (where I was going after Belarus) and pick up my itinerary from there. Option 2: fly home. The flight for option 1 was the next day, but my Russian visa expired at midnight. Not wanting to spend a night kipping in an airport, or messing with Russian border control, I picked option 2 and took off a few hours later.
Not my most successful trip, and the first one I’ve ever abandoned!
Love Emily x
