How Not to Get a Russian Visa (and Invitation Letter)

You need a Russian visa to see Moscow's Red Square!

I wrote this post last spring, as I prepared for a journey across Russia on the Trans-Siberian express.  I waited to publish it until I’d returned from the trip and then forgot about it, but I thought that as some of you prepare to travel abroad for the summer, you might be interested in the process I went through to obtain a Russian visa.

I am planning to visit Russia this summer, and because I would like to learn more about the country than is possible in thirty days, I have to apply for a special category of visa.  The Lonely Planet Russia guidebook suggests applying for a business visa, and after attempting to go through the confusing business visa invitation process through Way to Russia, I decided to look into different providers of visa invitation letters.  Based on positive reviews on TripAdvisor, I submitted- and paid £97.50 for- my application for a three-month, double-entry business visa invitation letter through a highly-regarded travel agency (let’s call them HRTA, or Highly-Regarded Travel Agency) on April 21, 2015.

Here’s what happened next.

The same day I received a personal email back from HRTA.  I was very impressed with the fast response.  They said that based on my employment in a non-profit sector that relates to Russian culture, it would be better to apply for a humanitarian visa.  I agreed immediately.  The next day I went to work, scanned my passport and sent it to HRTA.

Then I waited.

HRTA’s emails to me always ended with, “You may track your order’s progress through our website, or by clicking on the following link. However, if you have any questions at any time about your application, or require assistance with travel to Russia, accommodation, transport, transfers or guides then please get in touch with us and we will be happy to help.”  However, I visited the provided link multiple times a day and it always said the same thing: no progress.

On April 30th, six full business days after I provided HRTA with my documents, I received an email that said, “Please, be informed that your visa support document has been delayed from the Russian authorities today. We are expecting to get it on the 5th May at the moment.”

I appreciated the update but wondered about HRTA’s online tracking system.  It said, “Your visa support application has not been submitted to the UFMS for processing.”  The next day (May 1st) I replied to HRTA’s email and asked about the online tracking system.  They responded on the 4th, stating that my application had definitely been sent to the Russian authorities and that they were unsure of why the tracking system was showing otherwise.

May 1st and May 4th are holidays in Russia, so I emailed HRTA on May 6th (eight business days, excluding holidays, from the date I paid for five-day service) and asked for an update.  They responded and said that they expected to receive the document that day.  It did not arrive.

On May 7th I became increasingly concerned that I might have given £97.50 to a scam company.  I emailed them again and asked for an update, because if they were not going to be able to provide the service then I would like to work with a company who could.  On May 8th they responded that the documents were still delayed by the Russian authorities.

Here’s where things get interesting.

Within a few hours of that email, I received a second email with my invitation attached.  I was so happy to have put the ordeal behind me.  The email contained the information (in English) that I would need to fill out the Russian visa application online.  Here’s what it said:


The first thing I did was head straight to Google Maps and Wikipedia to check out Khimki.  The whole visa invitation thing is just red tape, and travelers don’t really have to work with the inviting organization, but I thought maybe this would be kind of serendipitous twist of fate and my visa invitation letter would end up taking me on the adventure of a lifetime.  I discovered that Khimki (or, Химки in Russian) is a growing city near Moscow that is home to a big shopping mall, but not likely to be a life-changing destination.  Oh well, on to the visa application…



I have been learning my Cyrillic alphabet in preparation for this trip, and I can’t find the word Химки on this form anywhere.  I look for other words that I recognize, like Москва and Пермь, and realize that there is an unexpected city name appearing all over my invitation letter: Самара.

I quickly send an email back to HRTA, asking them to review the translation provided because I am seeing a whole lot of Самара and not a word of Химки.  They are prompt in sending me a second email.


Okay, I don’t speak Russian, and I did pay almost $200 Canadian to this company to get this right the first time, but I feel like nothing could go wrong from here.  I a start new visa application online and get about one-third of the way down the first page when, once again, I realize there is a problem.


HRTA has told me that I should put “business” in the “purpose of visit (section)” area.  However, when I do that, I am no longer able to follow their next instruction, which is to put “cultural” in the second “purpose of visit” field.  Something isn’t right, so I go to the HRTA website and try to connect to their live chat, but it is offline at the moment.  Almost in tears, I pull up Google Translate and start typing in the Cyrillic letters that I can make out on the invitation letter I’ve been given. At the top, I decipher these words:

обыкновенная гуманитарная

I enter that phrase into Google Translate, and it tells me that it means “General Humanitarian”.

It starts to dawn on me that once again I’ve been given a mistranslation.  HRTA had told me that a humanitarian visa would be most appropriate for my circumstances, so that must be what they applied for.  However, if that is the case, why have they now sent me two emails saying that I received a business visa invitation?


As it was now Friday evening, I decided to drown my sorrows in a Frappuccino and sort things out the following morning, as, according to HRTA’s website, they would be available by live chat on Saturday morning to address visa inquiries.  I set my alarm for 5:00 am local time so that I could connect with HRTA during their opening hours in London.

After three tries I was finally connected to an online agent after selecting “visa inquiries” from the online chat menu.  I was then greeted by a HRTA employee who told me she could not provide visa information, and that I would once again have to wait until Monday to receive confirmation of the type of visa invitation that they had procured for me.  Monday, of course, would be eleven business days (excluding holidays) after I paid for five-day service.


To top things off, HRTA’s tracking system finally updated on Friday, May 8th.  It finally showed that their office received the documents on April 30th, which seems contrary to their emails throughout early May stating that the delays were with the Russian authorities.

On Monday morning, I received another email from HRTA.  They explained that their system was automated for business visas, and confirmed that my documents were actually for a humanitarian visa for cultural purposes.  That day, I sat down at my computer for an hour and filled in the online Russian visa application form, then printed out a few of the finished copies and got ready to mail in all of my documentation.

The first thing I had to do was glue my passport photos on the page.  Within seconds I realized I’d had my photos printed to fit a Canadian passport application, when in fact I needed much smaller photos to fit in the allotted space on the application form.  Another trip to my local CAA office and thirteen dollars later and I had a fresh new set of photos.  I glued one on the application, then signed and dated the documents.

The next step was going to my local bank to procure a bank draft.  Since I live thousands of kilometers from the nearest Russian consulate, I had to pay for postal service.  The total cost for my visa application, processing fees and postage fees was $259 CAD.  Here in Canada, all Russian visa applications must be sent to a third party (called ILS) for processing.

My next stop was back to my house, to compile all of my required documents.  I organized the visa invitation letter from HRTA, the copy of the application form with the photo glued on, my passport, a photocopy of the information page inside my passport, the bank draft and a document outlining my travel insurance policy (the last one is not required), clipped them together and headed to the post office.

At the post office I found that I could send my documents fairly quickly (with delivery in no more than three days), with insurance, and with a required signature, for a cost of about $20.  I carefully tucked everything inside the envelope (goodbye, passport!), sealed it, triple-checked the seal, triple-checked the address and handed it over to the post office employee.  For the next few days I checked the tracking information every twenty minutes, and delivery at the visa processing center was confirmed (at least via Canada Post) at 10:00 am on Wednesday morning.

Thus began the second waiting game, as I knew it was supposed to take ten days for my visa to be processed.

The waiting was particularly difficult as I didn’t have a Plan B.  I had fewer than thirty business days before I wanted to leave for a seven-week trip, and had no idea where I would go if I didn’t get admitted to Russia. Instead of using the time to investigate other options, I just kept refreshing my email and checking my phone to see if I’d missed any communication from ILS or the Russian consulate themselves.

On the tenth business day after ILS received my documents, I started to get worried.  I decided to phone my bank, who informed me that ILS had cashed my bank draft on the Friday after receiving my documents.

On the eleventh business day I decided to phone ILS.  I tried a few time throughout the day, but nobody ever picked up the phone at the office where I had submitted my application, and I kept getting rerouted to a different office in a different city who were apologetic but unable to help.  They suggested that I email the first office, so I wrote a brief, polite email requesting an update that night.

The next morning (Business Day #12) I went to work and checked my email.  No response from ILS.  I tried calling them a few times, but there was no response.  I was expecting an Amazon delivery of Moleskine notebooks that morning, so when a courier buzzed my apartment (it goes straight through to my cell phone) I let him in and he slid the notebooks under my door.  I tried calling ILS a few more times throughout the day, but my calls continued to be redirected to other offices.

When I got home from work I was feeling pretty upset, because I knew the weekend meant at least two more business days without any news.  I opened my door and almost fainted… the package on my hallway floor wasn’t a yellow Amazon envelope like I’d expected, but a white Fed-Ex envelope with HIGH PRIORITY OVERNIGHT DELIVERY stamped all over it.  I dropped all of my things inside the doorway and ripped open the envelope faster than you can say “спаси́бо”.  Inside there were two things: a simple white sheet of paper indicating that I’d paid $259 for the privilege of applying for a Russian visa, and my passport.

I picked up my passport and flipped through the pages quickly.  Nothing seemed out of the ordinary.  As I was required to have two blank side-by-side pages, I’d expected the Russian visa to be large and noticeable.  The visa I had when I studied abroad in Mexico had been made of thick paper (like construction paper) and laminated right into my passport; I thought a Russian visa would surely be similar.  I skimmed again, and still didn’t see anything.  My heart sank, as I realized I might have just paid $511 for nothing, and that I had no summer plans.  I took a deep breath and sat down on my sofa, so that I could go through the entire booklet carefully, page-by-page.

A few pages in I saw some familiar (and some unfamiliar) Cyrillic letters.  виза.  I checked the dates, looked for something to indicate it was double-entry, checked all of my personal details… everything seemed to be in order.

I had a Russian visa!

visa application 2

In retrospect, I would offer the following advice to someone applying for a Russian visa (especially if you’re looking for anything more than a standard thirty-day tourist visa):

  • Learn enough Cyrillic to identify the key words you’d expect to see on your documents (obviously Google Translate can help a lot!)
  • Start the application process as early as possible
  • Double- and triple-check everything before you send it to the visa processing service or to the consulate, as mistakes will cost you more time and money
  • Have a Plan B to lessen the blow if your visa application is denied
  • And if you do end up on the Trans-Siberian, make sure to pack these essentials!

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