AAAAAAHRG!!!!!!

I normally make it a rule not to post twice a day, but I can’t help it today; I have to vent.

Let me start at the beginning.

It all started in December. I was here in Bangalore, under the impression that I could get everything done. That included doing the supposed impossible, namely extending an unextendable visa (many a traveller have been amazed at my gal that I though I could get away with that, for that matter even a lot of long-stayers were shocked). The reason I thought I could do it was because somebody here said they could do it. You know the ones, the ‘don’t worry, it’s no problem’ kind. I should have known right there that it wouldn’t be that easy. There almost as bad as the one’s that say ‘trust me’ and you immediately know you shouldn’t.

I should have flown to Sri Lanka and got a normal extension, but that’s 20/20 hindsight, isn’t it? At the time it seemed like a great idea, what with my short film taking up most of my time and my over inflated ego. So I agreed to it. It cost me a fair bundle; but hey, it should have been brilliant. More time in India and my problems sorted.

They weren’t, of course. The time I would have lost in Sri Lanka, sitting on a beach and sipping cocktails, I instead lost sitting in Indian bureaucracies, watching inefficiency in action. I only finally got my exit permit sorted at five o’clock this afternoon; that’s right, after my gruelling bus journey where I slept on a bunch of bags (see the last entry), I spent a full day in another office (when it was only supposed to take 30 minutes).

Then, when they finally okayed my exit permit I read over me ticket and made a shocking realisation. If you use somebody else’s credit card to buy a ticket, you need a copy of an ID and the credit card, otherwise they can turn you down and refuse you entry to the plane. I was in Bangalore, the person who’s credit card I had used was in Goa, (yes, I’m that broke that I need to borrow money from somebody else to get home; any change for the get me home safely fund? No, I’m not really that broke, I just didn't have enough cash in one place to pay for a ticket.)

Desperately I tried to call my friends down in Goa, but the normally always reachable were suddenly completely out of reach. I nearly lost it. I think it takes quite a bit for me to nearly lose it, but little sleep, stifling heat and bureaucrats more interested in the interior of their nose than in the document you’re just getting them to sign will make any sane man snap and I never claimed to be sane to begin with.

So, since four this afternoon I’ve been texting like mad, calling everybody I still knew on the beach and just generally tearing my hair out (which is a great deal easier when it’s nice and long, much more to grab). When I finally reached somebody, she wasn’t even in Goa anymore, she’d moved on to Hampy (it’s supposed to be very pretty, but that wasn’t really what interested me at that moment in time).

Luckily, she did get in touch with people down on the beach and luckily they finally managed to get me a soft copy of the needed documents; so yes, I can leave. I desperately want to as well. Every traveller goes through intense India hating periods. Unfortunately, mine came right at the end, just as I was trying to leave. Will it colour my perceptions of my time in India? Probably not. Will I be coming back to India anywhere soon? Probably not.

There, vent done. You can go back to your normal lives now.