A passport, many stamps but a visa less

Prologue

This is a true story and all instances of ‘I’ and ‘me’ refer to the author himself.

There are times when you think you are in control of things but that’s when they go haywire and make you think ‘Fallibility is bliss’.

Subject

People tend to remember dates – birth days of their friends, their own anniversary dates and many moreof the sorts. But if I can’t forget one date in my life, that would be the 21^st of December, 2009.

I live in the UK and had planned my Christmas holiday very meticulously. My fourteen day trip to countries Slovenia, Hungary, Slovakia and Greece was as per the schedule until this ill-fated day. I could look back at it and smile just for the nonce but even the thought of undergoing it again makes my goose bumps rise.

Chapter 1 – Arriving at the train station

OK, let me get to the point. I had jolly well started off my trip with Slovenia and hitherto enjoyed the city of Ljubljana, its capital, had a glimpse of the panoramic views of Bled and had taken a day’s trip to Postojna caves. Sated with this visit, I was all set to see Budapest, the capital of Hungary.

There are two train services to reach Budapest from Ljubljana – one during the day and another at night or rather early morning. I, being the wiser soul, had opted for the night train while thinking on lines that with this option I might save time during the day. This said I had also opted for the more expensive option as these night trains usually cost a few extra Euros.

As my train was scheduled to arrive at 2 AM, I took shelter in the hostel I had stayed for the two nights before and giving me company there was my Canadian friend, who was also touring Europe. He had planned to catch another early morning train to reach Venice. ‘What’s with this flurry of catching early morning trains?’ you could wonder but when it comes to us blighters doing these stuffs, we blighters are up for it anytime.

As we both discussed this and that, the clock struck 1 AM and I wore my heavy jacket, covered my hands with woollen gloves and my head with a skull cap. Donning two pairs of socks and a sports shoe, I set myself up for the journey from the hostel to the train station. One might wonder why one should cover oneself with all this winter paraphernalia but if it’s -20 deg C outside, you ought to take cover.

The walk lasted 25 minutes and it literally looked like the walk of my life. Tramping on ice-capped roads, I ensured that I didn’t make the fall of my life as it would be very difficult to find help at this blighted hour. One could be lucky if a blood sucking vampire or an affectionate owl comes for assistance but besides that I could find no semblance of any human movement.

I reached the station at about 28 minutes past 1. The station looked deserted but that’s when a Slovenian damsel came pirouetting learning from her boy friend, don’t know if he was her boy friend but at least that’s what I thought, that her train was delayed by an hour. It’s never good to hear about the delay at this early hour and especially when the temp outside is not comforting. This coupled by the fact that you haven’t had your 8-hour slumber makes you think you’re one of those unlucky souls in the world. Btw, the delay I was alluding to was my delay too as we were destined to travel on the same blasted train.

Bearing in mind that we had to spend another 1.5 hrs in the station without any heating room made us shudder. My two pairs of socks gave little protection and accentuated the importance of winter footwear. You can’t be sane if you sport yourself with one of those high streets’ Nike wear in this kind of weather.

Chapter 2 – Making friends

I started walking hither and thither and found this little bar in the station, which looked like the only solace one could think of at this ‘Gawd-help-us’ place. A 6 ft figure standing beside me was glancing at me and from the shake of his head I understood that he also considered the idea apt for the situation. We entered and he being a wise European ordered for vodka. I couldn’t resort to my usual non-alcoholic equivalent in ‘J2O-apple and mango’ at this blasted hour but instead opted for a hot chocolate. The girl at the bar smiled at me and gave a hot white-coloured drink.

I always thought hot chocolates were brown in colour but the colour didn’t matter at this juncture as this could become the drink of my life if I were to catch some cold throat disease. My friend and I took a seat in the bar, the music inside was blaring so loud and people were enjoying themselves so heartily as if Santa Claus had come down early that the entire scenario portrayed a contrasting picture to what was happening outside.

As we started chatting, I removed my socks and gave a strong massage to my ice cold feet. He liked the idea of wearing double socks and planned to implement it in the future if the weather was no way near to travel friendly. He mentioned that he was heading towards Zagreb in Croatia and came all the way from Amsterdam to Ljubljana by car with one of his chums. He, as any other ‘Gawd-help-him’ soul in this station at the nonce, was destined to catch the same train I was supposed to board. I appreciated his courage. These Europeans do some travelling, I ought to say!

We repacked ourselves so that as little of our body as possible was exposed to the outside world. We waited and at about 3 AM, the sound of our transportation managed to permeate thro our skull caps and entered our inner ears. We boarded our train, the pirouetting girl accompanied us and her boy friend kissed her goodbye. We managed to get ourselves accommodated and I checked the coupé for any sign of mischief but it was all quiet which made me glad. In a few moments, I went into my dreamless but at about 4 30 AM, a bright illumination woke us up. We were at the border about to leave Slovenia and enter Croatia and the Slovenian border check police entered the train.

For the uninformed, let me explain this process. Most areas in the European space are open bordered as close to 24 countries have signed the Schengen agreement to allow free and borderless travel between them. For instance, if you are a non European Union resident holding a Schengen visa and intend to travel to Austria from Germany, all you need to do is to buy a flight or a train or a bus ticket and get going. But Croatia, not being part of this agreement, is prone to these border checks.

Chapter 3 – The social bug

After about 1.5 hrs, the train reached the Croatian border. I didn’t know what took the locomotive so long to cover a distance, which in any other circumstance, would’ve taken about 10 mins. In the meanwhile I, being a social bug, started chatting with my fellow passengers. There was an American girl, her friend, who was half- American and half-Croat. Then there was another male in his late 20s but he made it clear that he was in no mood to interact with any of us. He had his head phones on and was busy listening to Elvis Presley or whoever it was. And of course, my Croatian friend and the pirou girl were there to enlighten us. We started discussing this and that but the topic shifted to marriages in India. Like any of those million Europeans and Americans, my fellow passengers were too keen to learn about arranged marriages. I explained the nuances and subtleties but our American friend was too inquisitive to handle. The situation got even tougher when the subject shifted to my marriage. I somehow handled it well but when it came to teetotalism I, as always, was defeated. The pirou girl who was all the while silent started laughing at my naivety, if naivety is the word I’m looking for. I said I’m 27 and haven’t sniffed any port in my life. She retorted “I’m 15 but I drink everything”. I couldn’t but appreciate her unprejudiced attitude. But when I added that I am an animal sympathiser and not a man of gaspers, she lost hope. This reminded me of a conversation that I once had in Spain. I went to a restaurant and said “no como carne, no como pescado y no como huevos”, literally meaning I don’t eat any meat, fish or eggs. The waiter, obviously a disgruntled man at hearing such a blatant confession, retorted in Spanish “Then why are you here? This is a land of meat, mate!” Hmm, back to the current situ, I blushed and changed the topic. While we were discussing all these interesting subjects, border control police from the Croatian side arrived to check our documents.

Chapter 4 – Border checks and a visa less

A sober looking officer checked my passport, looked at me and the following conversation ensued.

Off: “You don’t have a Croatian visa?”

Me: “Ya, I know but I’m going to Hungary”

Off: “But you’re in Croatia”

Me: “So?”

The officer smiled, put my passport in his shirt pocket and proceeded to the next compartment. I thought this was no way to treat an honest passenger like me but awaited his return. My fellow mates assured that everything shall be ok but after about 5 minutes the train started moving towards Zagreb. I was too tensed to leave matters there and started searching for the Off. After brushing thro a good number of crooks and passing thro a good number of aisles, we finally met and he explained me that I didn’t have a Croatian visa. I tried to play the wise man’s role and explained the air traffic scenario. Any frequent air traveller would know that one wouldn’t need a visa for a country if one’s going to be sated looking at those numerous perfume shops inside the airport rather than crossing the immigration desk to venture into the city. But our officer was cleverer. That it seems was ok for air travel but while in land, one has to have at least a transit visa even if one hasn’t any plans to step down for a leak. So, the verdict was that I was expected to alight from the loco at the next station along with the Off.

I didn’t have anything else to discuss as even a mention of the weather outside was not worthwhile. I returned to my seat and explained the situ to my chums. They were shocked and my fellow Croat was really saddened that this had to happen to me in his land. While he cursed the laws, the American girl and her half-Croat friend shared their mobile number for any help just in case I was sent to the local gaol. I appreciated the concern and bade adieu to them and partnered the officer to the border check office in Zagreb. Did I look like an accused? I didn’t think so but that’s exactly what the audience at the train station thought. Accompanying me to the office, the officer said that it’s no fault of mine and this is not the first time this has happened to someone who has boarded this loco unknowingly. That’s when I realised the suffering all those poor souls who travelled on this blasted train without a Cr visa would’ve endured. But would they have experienced it in this body freezing weather, I couldn’t comment. After about 10 mins, I was asked to sign some papers which said that I entered the country without a visa and hence am being sent back to the one that I came from. I signed, took the papers and was asked to board a train going back to Slovenia by two officers who accompanied me. The train moved forward and backward for an hour and then finally started moving. The officers returned my passport, wished me good luck, bade adieu and got down at the next station. All this while, they had waited for the loco to move so that I was off their RADAR. What could’ve happened if I had jumped from the train after their exit? I couldn’t say. But it was certain that I was in no mood for such an adventure.

Chapter 5 – Final leg

After a while the loco reached the Slovenian border and there I was welcomed with a cheerful ‘what ho’. After listening to my story and sympathizing with me for a while, the Slovenian border police left me so that I could enjoy my solitude. Half an hour passed and the ticket checker arrived and asked me for the ticket. Randomly put on this train, I had no opportunity to buy a ticket. Anyways, back to the situ, I was wondering where this train was heading to. My destination was supposed to be Budapest in Hungary but this loco was moving towards Vienna in Austria. But I knew Vienna was just 3 hrs away from Budapest. So working my grey cells out, I asked for a ticket to Vienna. The ticket checker, who spoke only Slovenian and German, replied in the universal sign language that he can’t give me a ticket to Vienna. I became furious, firstly he won’t speak a language that I can comprehend and secondly he’s denying me a ticket to the best possible route I could come up with considering what all had happened. Fed up with my repeated requests, he went away murmuring something in Slovenian. I couldn’t say he was swearing but what else would a man do if one won’t speak his language and pester him to issue a ticket, which he can’t for reasons known only to God and himself.

That’s when a saviour in the form of a teen girl, who was accompanied by her boy friend, entered the loco. What’s with this ‘boy friend’ assumption of mine, I don’t know but who else could he be? Again back to the situ, she did the mediating and explained that the ticket issuer operates only till the Slovenian border and that he can’t issue tickets beyond that. I understood the predicament, raised my hands and apologised immediately to my man. He gleefully accepted and I hugged the sexagenarian and being a pure soul bade adieu after getting the half-way ticket. The girl who wasn’t very fluent in English was amazed at how Indians can speak English, come to the UK, use their learning and earn a good living. “Nice thought” I told her but she was in no mood to let me enter the dreamless. She was concerned about a lot of things in Slovenia. So we started discussing politics, education and health care and at the end of an hour’s talk, we had exhausted everything from Radhe Krishna to David Letterman. That being a little exaggerated, I noticed her little boy friend still smiling at us. His was an eternal smile, I must say! Their station arrived and as so many people did to me on this travel of mine, they also bade adieu and I wished them good luck for their education and marriage.

After a while, I managed to get a ticket for Vienna but the new issuer told me that the train was to terminate at Graz and we needed to shift transportation. We reached Graz and the clock struck 1 pm. When you’re frozen at -20 deg C without a night’s sleep and put on an unknown train by unknown comrades, you don’t exactly think of food. But when all’s settled and your brain starts to function well, you realise that you’ve been famished for more than 18 hours and the digester questions are still unanswered. So I got down, went into one of those super markets, picked up whatever I thought I could dump down the oesophagus and settled in the next loco. In situations like this, the first drop of H₂O that goes down your throat feels like ambrosia. It did feel like it. By the time I finished my consumables and had a short nap, we had reached Vienna. There was little time to catch the next loco but I made no mistake this time and settled in what was supposed to be the final leg of my eventful journey. The train almost reached Budapest but was stopped for some signal problems. After moving forward and backward, it reached the station at about 8 PM and I heaved a heavy sigh thinking that I was just 10 mins away from my accommodation in Budapest. Looking back at my travails, I did manage to smile for I had broken another personal record. If you had followed my story carefully, in one day I had been thro four different countries in Croatia, Slovenia, Austria and Hungary.

Epilogue

All characters and incidents in this story are real and have been portrayed to the best of the author’s knowledge and memory. Any attempts to question the verisimilitude of its contents will be dutifully ignored.

- Written by Navin Radha