Can it really be this easy?

Where's the catch?

I got up early this morning and went down to breakfast to find one other B&B guest there. Brian and Sid's dog, Chelsea, had stolen a table napkin and was running up and down the hall with it in her mouth, and the other guest was too polite, I guess, to say anything.

After he had made our breakfasts, Brian sat at the table with us and asked me what I was up to in Ottawa. - Going to the Russian Consulate, I told him, to get a visa.

-Oh, he says, looking pleased. That's just down the street. And he tells me to walk up to Laurier Avenue, about two blocks from the B&B, turn right, and walk another few blocks until I come to Range Road, then turn right there. And here I had been expecting another $30 taxi ride.

It's cold in Ottawa today, but I set out, following Brian's instuctions. The consulate opens its doors at 9:30, and I'm standing outside at 9:10. No chance, of course, of an early opening, so I wander down to the edge of the Ottawa River and am surprised to find a rich population of Mallards, gulls, and even a couple of cormorants sunning themselves, facing east, sitting on rocks in the middle of the river's flow. I hear the unmistakable sound of red-winged blackbirds, and one of them lands on the walkway next to me, looks up at me, and mouths some incomprehensible message, it's beak opening and closing, opening and closing, before it flies off again into the river grass.

There seem to be a few extra cars in the parking lot across from the consulate, so I go back to stand outside the door at 9:20. At exactly 9:30, the door is opened electronically from within, and the five of us enter the building together. First thing I see is a row of Babushkas, bright blue, standing on a ledge. The receptionist points me to the "teller" behind a smouldering grey window, and I tell him I'm applying for a visa, and ask him what he wants first. - Passport, visa application, invitation, photograph, photocopy of passport information page...and $210 for 24 hour processing. I sign something, get a little blue card from the guy behind the glass, and am told to come back tomorrow.

It's 9:35, and I walk back up Somerset Street to Sweetland and am back in my room by 9:45.

So I have the rest of the day to work, catch up on my sleep, and then figure out where I am in relation to the rest of the city, the one that I used to know.

Tomorrow, it's pick up the visa and then work, visit a museum, relax...