1994 Travel Part 6 - Malta bound

Once getting settled back in Belgium I continued my struggle with the embassy to get a visa to Kazakhstan until one day they said they finally had it and all I had to do was come over and pick it up.  So I go.  As the consulate officer and I are taking care of the final pieces of business we begin to have a conversation that I didn't want to have.

                -"So where in America are you leaving from?"

                -"Pardon?"

                -"Where in America are you leaving from?  New York?"

                -"I'm not leaving from America."

                -"But your an American."

                -"So?"

                -"We assumed that since you're an American, you would be leaving from America."

                -"Why would I go to the Embassy in Belgium if I was going to leave from America?  Wouldn't be easier if I just went to the one in New York?"

                -"I suppose so, but now we have a problem.

                -"What sort of problem?"

                -"We have to get the place of "origin of travel" changed"

                -"Can you just write it on there now?"

                -"Oh no.  What you have to do is have your friend write another letter of invitation, take it back to the Ministry of Foreign Affairs where they can check it again and they'll fax us the visa once more."

That night I was actually glad the train ride was long because I was ready to kill someone and needed the time to calm down.

During the next week I called my friend and asked her to re-do everything and tried calling a certain airline that would take me to Karaganda in Kazakhstan.  I had the name of the airline, but the wrong number.  German information couldn't even find it even though they searched a couple times.  When I called the Embassy back about a week and a half later said it was all set and to come over again.  By now, the whole situation has become rather humorous to my relatives and I who were beginning to take bets on if I would ever get the visa.

I've been to this Embassy so often that I'm well known on a first name basis.  Not well loved, but well known.  The same process as before follows and before; much with a similar resolution.  In fact, the only difference is that I started off the conversation.

-"So that visa says I'm leaving from Germany, right?"

-"Yes, and you'll be leaving on November twenty-seventh, correct?"

-"November twenty-seventh?!!  I said OCTOBER twenty-seventh!"

-"Well, they have November on the pass"

-"Well they have it wrong!"

-"Perhaps your friend  wrote the wrong month."

-"Perhaps the Ministry of Foriegn Affairs  wrote the wrong month!"

-"Regardless, in order to correct this problem, you're going to have your friend write another letter of invitation, take it back to the Ministry of Foriegn Affairs where they can check it again and they'll fax us the visa once more."

I could hardly see straight I was so angry at this man.  By the time I made it the station I felt worse as his words kept churning over and over in my head.  First, he accuses my friend of making their mistake (I had talked to her enough where she wouldn't have made such an error) and then to tell me to do the whole process over again.  "This is insane."

This time though the train home was not as relaxing.  I sat there reading the paper when a man came in and was looking for place to sit.  Although there were plenty of places to sit he sat right across from me and tried to start up a conversation.  Understand that I was in a bad mood and didn't want to be disturbed so I kept reading the paper hoping that he would get the hint.  Finally he comments on how he likes the ring I wear.  I begin to think that this guy is going to mug me.  Then he actually took my hand to get a better look at it.  I almost jumped out of my seat as I pulled my hand back.  I continued to read as he continued to talk and then came the "icing on the cake."  He leaned forward and put his hand on my knee!  This was quickly followed by me yelping and jumping up ready to beat the living daylights out of this guy.  Don't get me wrong I know that some people are friendlier than others, but this was pushing the limit.  As it turned out he wasn't a mugger, he was making a pass at me.  Although "flattered" that I could actually attract a man by sitting there with a paper in front of my face I explained that I was a devout heterosexual and would have to decline his offer to go to his house later that evening. 

After dealing with the Embassy, trying to find the airline (further less - contact it), and this incident on the train my nerves were pretty shaken and I decided I needed a vacation from my vacation.  I needed someplace warm to help get rid of my cold...hmm...Malta!  I have a friend in Malta who I can visit!  I called my friend up and asked her if it would be O.K. if I visited for a couple of days.  She agreed, and told me I could stay at their house so I wouldn't need a hotel.  "Wonderful, just the sort of vacation I need!"  Looking at my maps I decided to take the train from Belgium to Sicily and catch the ferry to Malta.  The only problem was that I couldn't figure out were the ferry left from.  In order to solve this minor problem I went to the local travel agency the next day and asked.

-"Excuse me, can you tell me where the ferry that goes between Sicily and Malta leaves from?"

-"To Malta from Sicily?  There is no ferry to Malta from Sicily."

-"Sure there is.  I was in Malta last year and I'm positive there's a ferry."

-"Well, there's no ferry anymore.  What you should do is when you get to Rome ask one of the tourist agencies there and maybe they can tell you another way to get there."

"No ferry?!!  There has to be a ferry.  These people are obviously misinformed."  I was determined to correct this error when I got to Rome; a place where they could tell me the truth.  Or so I thought.