(Based on a Vane's true story)
Migration guy: “Do you have a visa?”
Vane: “Yes”
MG: “Are you sure?”
V: “What? Yes, I am sure”.
MG: “Ok, I’m just saying because some have been sent back because they didn’t have a visa to London”.
V: “But I am going to Dublin”.
MG: “Yeahhhh well it is the same”.
V: “Eh no, for London is another visa”
MG: “Really? So, do you have a visa to Dublin?”
V: “Yes, and to London” (and in my head I tried to remember all the countries that have asked me for a visa and remembered all that energy I put on filling those forms because I really really really like to travel)
MG: “Good, go on then…”
I’ve got to admit, every time I am asked to show my visa it aches, it aches like if someone was pinching me and I'm like: Look sir, I am just trying to be happy in a different place than the one I was born in, not that I am not proud of Ecuador, Christ no! Ecuador is beautiiiiiiful, but I just never pictured myself growing old there, is that a crime?
No, I don’t say all that. I just smile and wait for another little stamp in my passport. Yeah, that’s pretty cool. I am pretty lucky to have my passport almost full but I still can’t help but feeling a little bitter for the visa thing.
“The sky is the limit”… bullshit! That has no meaning and it has never had for those of us who come from developing countries. Oh my poor Venezuelan friends, or people from Cuba… They can’t catch a break... or a flight! (sorry but the joke was right there!) Anyway, we all have different realities though and I remember the first time I was refused a visa… the crying, the broken heart, the dream smashed! I just wanted to meet Mickey and Pluto! Oh well! My sister and I ended up going to Argentina that summer, great time with my little sister, we even skied cuz it was winter in the Patagonia… take that sunny and sweaty Florida!!
But... I used to have this nickname “Vanecia” which in Spanish is a game of words for Vanessa and stubborn. I still wanted to go to the US and most importantly I wanted to go to New York. After a few years when I was trusted to have a visa, I went. I remember those days before going to New York me singing loud and clear “Start spreadingggg the newssssss… I’m leaving todaaaaay… I want to be a part of it… NEW YORK, NEW YORK!!!!” Sinatra would have been so proud of this tiny Ecuadorean girl singing his big hit! But it took me not only one refusal but two! and third time was a charm. Got it!
I have always followed all the rules from the very beginning, filling the visa request form, putting all the documents in the right order, arriving on time for the appointment and responding only the necessary, leaving the country within the time permitted and yeah… pretty much that, but have you ever wondered why do we have borders? Like, who get to say where can we go or should we go and to what for?
Well technically the migration officers but for real… after studying International Public Policies and Diplomacy, I still do not get to understand all the fuzz about visas. I really wish we could just move from one place to another, after all we once upon a time were nomads, so restricting the free migratory mobility of anyone is going against nature. Some would want to stay forever where they were born, in fact daddy was like that. He used to say that he saw the world through my eyes and that that was enough for him. <3
Chiquilla caminando...
In my perfect world, no one would need a visa, passports ok, but visas no. Visas set conditions and I don’t like that at all. It makes me angry because I was raised as a free kid, I was told I could conquer the world and you know I am trying; it takes a little bit of paperwork but I’ll get there. Mum says I should stay positive, little sister says that I should pray from the gratitude and as upset as visas get me, I always remember my Syrian friend and his struggles when traveling, he did not even have a passport, only a piece of carton because of his refugee status. When I found out about that, I was embarrassed. There he was standing strong, telling his story to other 12 people from developing countries (an African princess included) and while we listened to him I felt that pinching again, a more painful one and I will never forget it.
That brought me to think that as humans we should be ashamed of that. At least I was. I knew it was not my fault or anyone's around me but it seems that we forget what sympathy is towards those who do not have that free mobility or maybe some of us are just ignorant and if that is the case I hope this entry will make you google or at least reflect on how lucky we are those who can travel. I hope this entry inspires!
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