I went to Milan on the evening of Monday the 29th, stayed the night, and went to the consulate in the morning. I got to Milan in a thunderstorm, rain pounding the streets and lightning cracking the sky every other second. I made my way to the hostel without too much hassle and thankfully they let me stay there, though technically I wasn’t allowed to since I wasn’t 18 yet. And I woke up bright and early to wander my way to the consulate. The Indian Consulate in Milan is a small, crowded room on the fifth floor of a tiny building off a back alley, but I didn’t have to wait too long in line before I was up against the sweaty glass and pushing my papers through.
But no. For them to process my visa I had to be a resident in Italy for 2 years and my Permesso was only valid for a year and 10 months. So they would have to send my application to New York, who would reply in around a week. Then I should come back and they would have it ready for me in 2 days. Oookay, that’s cutting it a bit close now. I asked if there was any way they could do it faster – I had to leave in a week and a half – couldn’t they make an exception and do the visa themselves? No. Ok, could they ask New York to be extra quick about replying? Sure, we’ll tell them, (but they didn’t do anything) call this number in 3-4 business days to see if it’s in.
I left feeling sort of worried and disappointed, but I figured, it could still work out if I was lucky – 3-4 days left me with getting it on Friday or Monday at the latest, and then I could go back and still have it with time to spare before I flew on Thursday – so I went and watched Ice Age 2 in Italian and relaxed until my train back to Duino left. I was not lucky. Neither that day nor later.
My train back was late by 20 minutes, which was ok – I had about that much time to catch the connecting train in Venice, if I ran, I’d be fine. But when I got to Venice, the other train was about to leave, so I jumped on without having time to validate my ticket. Big mistake. When the conductor came along and I showed him my printout from the Internet, he said, “You can’t use this. You need a real ticket. Pay 25 euros, plus the original ticket price again.”
“But I didn’t have time to validate the ticket, and I don’t have any money (not technically true, but hey…), please, isn’t there anything you can do?”
“Ok. Get off at the next stop, validate the ticket, and get on the next train. I won’t fine you this time.”
Yay! So I spent half an hour in a tiny Italian town, and got on the next train to Udine. It was a nice ride, but a little long. I kept looking at the stations, waiting for Monfalcone, but it never came. And then, as I was getting annoyed and tired and ready to be home, came the sign: Udine. Udine? I’m not supposed to be there!!! Apparently I’d either gotten on the wrong train or missed the stop early on. So I got off, bought a ticket back to Trieste, and for an hour, wandered Udine. Nice city by the way, some really pretty buildings, only marred by the fact that they weren’t the Duino Castle or the Al Castel café where I should have been.
The train finally came and I got off at Monfalcone without any problem, and ran down to the bus stop in case it came soon. Umm… no. The bus didn’t come for another hour, so I decided I’d rather walk the 10ish kilometers back than wait at the bus stop with nothing to do. That was scary. It was midnight and there weren’t streetlights, though there were lots of crazy Italian drivers speeding by. I spent my time saying prayers in Italian: “Per favore machine, lasciami vivere. Per favore, dio, non voglio morire. Il visto non e tanto importante, solo voglio vivere…” (please cars, let me live. Please god, I don’t want to die. The visa isn’t that important. I just want to live…)
I finally got back, and had to climb the wall to get into Beth’s (my English teacher) house at somewhere around 12:30. I fell into bed thinking, “phew. The ordeal’s over. Next time will be much easier.” Once again: How very wrong I was.
I called on Monday but they never answered all day. So I decided to go anyway and hope they had it. While I was using the secretary’s phone, though, I found out that Lorenzo, a Milanese boy I’d met during the Italian first year selections had been accepted, so I emailed him saying, “Congratulations! By the way, I’m coming to Milan tomorrow, want to meet somewhere to talk about the college?”
Another train to Milan. Another wait at the consulate. And another dismissal. Apparently New York hadn’t responded and I was to come back in 2 days. “But I’m leaving in 2 days! I can’t do that. Isn’t there anything you can do?”
“If you’re leaving, we can give you the visa the same day, if you show us the ticket. But only then.”
“My flight to London leaves from Venice at 10:30 in the morning, can’t you give it to me tomorrow?”
“No. Only on the day of the flight to India.”
So I left feeling angry/sad/worried/stupid/hated by fate. What was I going to do? Go back to Duino? I couldn’t no train would take me back in time. I had to find a hotel or something here. But I had no money. Help! My prayers were answered by Lorenzo, who came to meet me where we’d arranged. I think that was the only truly good thing that happened in this entire story, but it was so good, it made up for at least 2/3s of the bad things: he said, “Where are you staying? Because my mother said that you could stay with us if you wanted.” Grazie a Dio! So I spent the afternoon with Lorenzo, sightseeing and telling him about the college. Then I went home with him and met his wonderful family who fed me dinner, gave me a bed, let me use the internet, and helped me decide what to do. We’d try the consulate again in the morning in case New York had replied, and if they had, all was well. If they hadn’t, I’d change my flight to leave from Milan instead of Venice (it was more expensive, but there was nothing we could do.) and go back to Duino to get my luggage, then come back that night, stay with them again, and hopefully get the visa in the morning and leave in the afternoon from Milan to London.
The next morning Lorenzo’s mom took me to the consulate early to ask again, but the answer was no. Again. So we went to the station and I bought a ticket to Duino and back again, and said thank you, see you tonight.
The train ride was uneventful, except for the deep feeling of despair and angst – everything was going wrong! – but I managed to sleep through most of it. I got to Duino and found Beth, so though the computer room was closed, she opened it for me and I was able to get online to change to airplane tickets. But the price had doubled since the morning, and suddenly I wasn’t sure it would be best to change the tickets – maybe it would be cheaper to just by another ticket? But Beth had to go and so I didn’t have time to check or change the ticket. I did have time, though, to read an urgent email from Jesus, my Secondo, saying he’d be in Milan that evening, could we meet? Oh, cruel fate! Why did he have to come at exactly the time that I wasn’t in Milan? But there was nothing I could do. I went to Beth’s house, hurriedly packed all my stuff, said goodbye and thank you to Beth and ran back to the bus stop to get on the train again. (Ugg. I’m so sick of trains…)
This train was more fun though, I met an Iranian family and spent the hours entertaining their 5/6 year old daughter as the parents slept, drawing, watching a movie on my laptop, playing cards, making faces, etc. and got into Milan at 11:00 pm. There was Jesus, waiting for me, the poor guy. We had all of five minutes together while we walked to where Lorenzo and his mother were waiting to take me home. Then we said goodbye again and I went back with Lorenzo. It was so sad to see him and then leave him again so soon…
By the time we got back it was too late to change the tickets, so we had to wait until the morning. So the next morning (this is Thursday, the 8th, by the way, the day I leave) I went with Lorenzo’s mother to her office at 7:30 to check tickets (all of them insanely expensive because it was the same day) I ended up buying the same tickets I was going to in the first place, but it was too late to change tickets, so I ended up paying about 200 euros extra. Damn. (another lesson: get tickets when you can – don’t wait.)
Then at 9 I went to the consulate again. They told me to wait because the person who was supposed to handle my visa wasn’t there then. So I waited. And waited. And waited. Finally, after an hour and a half, I asked, “excuse me, but exactly how long am I supposed to wait?”
“oh, another half an hour, maybe.” (Thanks a lot. You could have told me that before! Oy.) So I went outside and wandered around Milan again, looking at the churches and University buildings and not thinking about the future. I returned to the consulate right before it closed, and made my way slowly to the window. And, miracle of miracles, they took my passport and money and said they would do the visa! I don’t think I’ve ever been as happy to hand over 75 euros in my life. “Come back at 4 to get it,” they said. Ahrg, another problem. My flight left at 4:50, I had to be at the airport at 4. This wouldn’t work. I asked if they could do it earlier and they said, no, come back at 4. I was about to leave in dejection and hope that I would be able to make the flight, but then I turned around again, I wouldn’t take defeat that easily. “You said you could make an exception if it was really necessary, and this is very important. Could you please do the visa earlier than 4? I absolutely have to be gone by 4.” And the blessed words, “Alright. I’ll do the visa now, come back at 2 to pick it up.” I nearly skipped out the room and did a little happy dance in the elevator. I met Lorenzo and we had lunch together before I went to get the visa. I was so happy and carefree then, it was wonderful. I went in at 2 and – joy and rapture – they produced my passport with a page full of a sparkly purple visa. So we went back to his house and I packed and said goodbye and thank you for saving my life and stuff, and then I went to the airport. Funny, how once I was in the airport I felt safe and at home: I know how to do airports. My visa was done and I was on my way.
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