Zen…all the way?
It was a looong and tedious journey, in which my Xanax zen was tested in many ways. Of course, the over weighted luggage anxiety always present when I travel, was one of them. The snail would not be entitled to be compared to me; When I go on vacation, I pack and take my entire home with me, so imagine how is it when I move. The neighbors have to pack too because I’m taking the block with me.
When I arrived in Ankara, where I had a stay over, Qatar representants thought that would be funny to tell me that they will not give me the ticket to Kuala Lumpur. In order for them to issue the ticket from the system, I need to have the return ticket too.
I was preparing to drop a tear for an artistic effect and tell them that the three children I have there, are waiting for me. The panic read on my face made the supervisor offer me a solution: to sign a statement that I have the return ticket and that they are absolved of any fault in case I do not have it. As a good fairy, he warned me to be careful, at mid…day, when I arrive there, if the authorities will discover that I do not have the ticket, I can be asked to buy one, on the spot.
The Xanax’ effect was fading away and a headache was taking over. After a glass of wine, on the plane, I thought that in the worst case scenario I’ll call a friend and tell him to buy me a ticket to Thailand or somewhere cheaper if they really want me to go out of their country.
After two more glasses of wine, I had more and more ideas on how to persuade them to let me stay a little more in their country. Why this whole problem? Because I was advised by a friend not to worry about these things. She had bought a plane ticket to Singapore just in case they ask for a proof, but they never did. And the work visa, I could have done it before but would have been a lot of financial and time resources wasted in the process. So the easiest solution is to get a tourist visa on arrival and apply for a work visa there. Why should I give myself more headaches? I just had the enough with the luggage.
I arrived at the airport immigration and I waited my turn with my Kindel in one hand and my passport in the other. At the weirdest look of the officer, I would text my friend from my Kindel and tell him to buy me a ticket.
And I arrived…
My turn came. The officer asked me what are my intentions in Malaysia. I said: “to travel”. This was another advice I got from my friend, to not say I came to work because I should already have a work visa. He: “Who did you come with?” Me: “Just I.” He raised an eyebrow perhaps as a sign of respect, or “you do not know what you’re getting into” and asked me to stay straight and look in the camera, to take my picture. He took my fingerprints, stamped my passport and returned it to me.
That was all? For this, I did not sleep all the flight or at least to have finished seeing “Captain America and I do not know who”? For this, I did not drink more wine? I wanted to be awake when I start crying.
If I knew…