Introduction
The following is the story of our crazy 4-day ride from Budapest to Madrid, for my U.S. green card interview at the U.S. Embassy in Madrid. In February 2012 I received notification my U.S. green card application had been approved. At that time, we were actually in Messina, on the Northeastern corner of Sicily. We were in the midst of our travels through Europe. Alia wanted very badly to be back in the U.S. and rejoin her family. However, I tried to make the point it did not seem a good idea to put an end to our trip, all of a sudden, just to run back to Madrid and get the green card. Indeed, we continued traveling through Europe for several more month, eventually reaching as far East as Cappadocia (in Central Turkey), to finally turn around and rush back to Spain in one last month, going through Bulgaria, Romania, Serbia, Hungary, etc. On Friday, July 20th 2012, we left Budapest with only four days left to cross Austria, the Alps, into Cinque Terre, continue to Monaco and Southeastern France, to finally reach Madrid for my interview at the U.S. Embassy on Tuesday, July 24th. Those four days were quite another adventure!
In Budapest, we were lucky to stay with a lovely Hungarian couple: Gabor and Helena. The following is a message I wrote them a few days after arriving to Madrid. It tells the story of our 4-day ride from their home to Madrid.
The Story
Hey Gabor and Helena!
Thank you very much for your help! We finally arrived safe and well to Madrid. We arrived yesterday morning ('yesterday morning' as of the beginning of this writing, now it would be more helpful to say we arrived Tuesday morning...). It was really exhausting, but, in the end, it was worth the effort because we were able to successfully sort everything out.
Last Friday, after leaving your house, we went to the police station you told us. The asked us to wait for an interpreter. However, after a while they explained it would take to long, so it was better if we just write everything up in a piece of paper.
We left Budapest as soon as we were done at the police station. It was around noon and we had until Tuesday morning to be in Madrid. We had planned a few stops on our way from Sopron to Madrid and, at least, didn't want to give up those that were furthest from Madrid. We made a couple of stops in Austria. They were really worth it, it was really beautiful in Hallstatt and Zell am See, but the weather was rather horrible. Those Alps are real fuckers. It doesn't matter if it is winter or summer: they are always pissed, they are always wet, rainy and thunder.
We also wanted to visit Cinque Terre and decided the best route was through South-Eastern Switzerland. It would save us from the high Italian gas and toll-road prices. I also thought it would give me the chance to buy some good Swiss chocolates, candies, sausages and cheese. However, stupid me, I happened to forget that Swiss people go to bed at six in the afternoon, so at 5pm on a Saturday everything is already close... We were only able to buy some chocolate at one of those little 24 hours shops.
In Switzerland it also became a nightmare to find some gas station where we could use my visa-electron card. Yeah, those Swiss guys are totally convinced they are freaking perfect, but they haven't yet figure out that in the 21st century, some visa cards use a chip instead of the magnetic stripe. Yes, the good, old stuff is always nice, but the chip is safer... We tried in each and all gas station since we entered to the Italian border without success, so finally we gave up and before leaving we chose to use our American stripe cards. Anything better than pumping Italian gas! Neither me or Alia had much balance in those cards, so we had to pump four different times. The woman at the gas station was running out of patience and eventually asked me how we could be traveling without any many in our cards. I explained her we did have a card with plenty of funds, but only in Switzerland they would not be able to figure out how to deal with it. I went on explaining we had been all over, we had been to Hungary, the entire ex-Yugoslavia, Albania, Romania, Bulgaria, Turkey, etc. etc. all those countries the Swiss consider so poor and undeveloped, but we did not find any problem. Only in freaking perfect Switzerland, they had not been able to figure out in the 21st century some visa cards use a chip for increased security. Anyway, I am half Swiss, so I can bitch as much as I want about them...
On Sunday we went through Northern Italy to check out Cinque Terre. It took us more time we had expected and that night we were only able to make it to Monaco. It was Monday morning, we had twenty hours to be in Madrid and we were still in Monaco. It was time to freak out!!! We had planned a few other stops in France, but these we had to give up. We will have to catch up with that the next time. Unfortunately, France is the wrong country to cross if you are short of time. Either you spend a lot of money cruising through the toll roads, or you spend a lot of time, getting lost in the endless maze of little country roads. We had over 1300 kilometer to make in 20 hours, so there was no other choice than to take toll roads. If that was not bad enough, shortly after we left Monaco, we ran out of gas. I had to run with a couple of 2-liters bottles to the nearest gas station to buy some gas. Fortunately, I was able to catch a couple of rides on my way there and back. On the other hand, in Eastern Europe there had not been any problem filling those bottle with gasoline, but in Western Europe they are more stuck-up, and told me I had to buy a special container. The stupid container was 10 euros... They scanned the container and told me to go and fill it. However, as I was checking the pumps, trying to figure out what is what I needed, one of the guys working there started asking me questions. He wanted to know where was my car. Actually, he was very concerned I might try to run away without paying for the gas. He told me I first needed to pay and then fill. I explained I had been told the opposite. He then took my container and started filling it. When he finished, he handed it back to me to immediately direct me to go the the cashier. He was really concerned I was going to run away, so he made sure to keep watching me. I was getting a little bit annoyed. However, the cashier he instructed me to go, was not the same where they had scanned the container. So, I am getting an impression they ended up not charging me for the container...
We had finally solved our gas problem, but now we were one more hour behind schedule. It was 3pm, we had 17 hours left and 1200km to go... To me it was very clear we were not going to be able to do it in one shot, so I suggested we take a nap sometime in the evening and then continue throughout the night to arrive in Madrid in the morning. That was a good idea, but just before entering Spain, a Polish girl approached us asking for a ride to Barcelona. We have been so many times in that position, we could not say 'No'. I explained her we would need to stop to take a nap before Barcelona, but it was still OK for her. In the end, we just could not help it to drive her all the way to Barcelona. The problem for us is that now we were taking our nap at midnight. It became really difficult, very painful, to get up one hour and a half later.
I still had some work waiting for me in Madrid. Prior to my immigration interview, I had to get my Spanish passport renewed and request a police certificate showing any possible 'criminal record'. The Americans wanted to make sure I had not broken into any bank, before issuing my resident card...
I tried to keep Alia entertained for a while, as we both were recovering from the short nap. However, I asked her to tell me to let me know when she started to feel a little better, so that I could try to get a bit more sleep. Unfortunately, I was only able to sleep half hour more, since Alia had to wake me up to be able to use the credit card to pay for gas.
In the last hours, we kept looking for something to talk about, to help Alia to stay sharp and awake as she was driving towards Madrid. At seven in the morning we finally reached Madrid! Nine months later: home, sweet home!
The toughest part of the job was done. Now we only had to get the passport renewed and that stupid police records certificate, before we could go to the immigration interview. We took a quick shower and off we were for downtown!
My passport renewal appointment was at nine, so we thought we would first get that done to make sure we would not miss the appointment time. We had everything ready and did not expect any problem, but when I handed the picture to the officer, he complained the picture was too old! I explained the picture was just a few months old. Actually, we took the picture last year, one year ago, for my American visa application, but the picture was recent and I was not going to give them any ammunition... The fucker insisted the picture was very old, because I looked much older now than in the picture #% $&"&##$!!! I was very confused, because the picture was just one year old, I knew that for a fact and there was no reason to reject it. The motherfucker continued arguing I looked now very old and had much more white hair than in the picture. At that point, I was able to explain that I had not slept that night, so nobody could be surprised I did not present a shiny, young face that morning. In addition, I happened to have been in Turkey a few weeks ago and, while I was there, I had a hair-cut Turkish style. In other words, now I had really short hair. My usual hair style is much longer hair. In that case, the longer hairs rooting from the top of my cover and hide the short white hairs that otherwise can be seen on my temples, on both sides of my head. In any case, my looks are normally better represented by that picture than by the face I was presenting that morning, after not having had any sleep and having got an extraordinarily short hair cut a few weeks ago. The idiot was stuck and said he would not accept that picture and I would have to take a new one...
So we had to go withdraw some money to pay for some new pictures. But when we got the money, we realized we actually needed coins! After trying in a few places, we had to run to a bank to change some bill. I finally got my pictures, but now we were again to the end of the line.
By the time I got my new passport we barely had an hour left! We run to Plaza del Sol, the very center of Madrid, to get the police records certificate. We thought we would not need much time to sort it out, but I was told at the entrance I first need to go to the bank to deposit the required payment... Unfortunately, it seems to me I was not the only one who had been caught by surprise, and consequently the line at the bank was freaking long! For some weird reason, it seemed that summer morning all the people who were otherwise normally supposed to be vacationing, lying down on some warm Mediterranean beach, had instead agreed to come back to the big city to solve some bureaucratic stuff. The previous time we had to ask for that certificate, May of last year, there was nobody. Yet this time the crowd that had gathered was overwhelming. Time kept passing and our ticket number was still not called. Finally, at 12:30, I received my paper! Unfortunately, we were already late for my interview and Americans are not well known for their patience...
I jumped out of the car, in front of the American Embassy, at 12:55. I rushed to the gate and explained to the security guard I had an appointment. She answered with the question I was fearing the most: "At what time is your appointment?". "Well... 12:30...". "At 12:30???!!", she asked with stern disapproval, fully aware as she was the current time was much later than that. I just manage to nod... "Well, where is the confirmation letter with the appointment time?". I gave her the confirmation letter we had, knowing it was for an earlier date, We had had to change the first appointment date we received and never got a confirmation letter with the new appointment date. "But the date here is the 29th and today it's the 24th!". Again stern disapproval in her face. "Yes, that is what I was saying, we had to change the date and never received a confirmation letter with the new date". "I cannot let you in if you do not have a confirmation letter". "Why don't you please ask inside and they will confirm to you I have indeed an appointment today?". "I cannot let you in if you do not have a confirmation letter". As I was getting stuck there, so close from the finish line, at the very last step of our two-years-long immigrant visa application process, I could not help to find some hope to my hopeless begging thinking that woman would have to deal with Alia's reaction when she hears that, after all what we had gone through, we were going to miss our final interview appointment because we did not have an appointment confirmation letter and this woman would not bother to ask to the Embassy's officials. All of a sudden, this security guard had to go back inside to solve some other issue, so she told me to wait there. After a while, some other guard came to me asking for my passport. Well, it seemed like something was moving after all... Finally the first guard came out to tell me to come in!!
In fact, they were waiting for me at the embassy. As I came inside a bit confused, still a bit nervous, not knowing where to go, some woman inside knocked on the glass, asking me to come to her window. She told me I was supposed to bring another filled-out copy of the visa application form. I did not have it, since nobody had advised us of such requirement. She told me not to worry; she will give me a new form And I would be able to fill it out there. It was going to take me forever to answer and explain all the questions in that 5-pages long form. Alia and I were very frustrated trying to understand why the hell they needed us to answer and explain those question again
After half hour the consul was finally ready to start the interview, but we were not... We were still struggling filling out the stupid endless form. As we explained we were not yet done with it, they told us we actually did not need to worry to answer and explain all those questions again, because they happened to also have the original form, fully completed, that we already provided when we submitted our application last year. We shrunk our shoulders in disbelief and proceeded to the interview.
As Alia would say, the consul was a rather nervous guy. He kept going through the same papers again and again. He kept asking the same questions again and again. He asked me to confirm the last time I had been in the U.S. was in 2006, but it was very clearly stated in the application paperwork I stayed in the U.S. until 2010. It became clear to him that all the work had already been done: everything had already been reviewed, everything had already been checked and everything had already been approved. There was not really any question left for him to ask. Everything was ready and waiting for him to give the final thumbs-up. So, he conceeded and started explaining I would receive my passport with the permanent resident card in about seven days. As we already knew it would actually be a temporary 'premanent residence card'. After 18 months, we would have to confirm we are still married, in order to ask for the permanent 'permanent resident card'. Then the consul asked us for the third time when did we actually get married. We answered a bit nervous fearing he had found something wrong: "June 2010". Given that at the present time, it had already been two years since we married, I already qualified for the permanent 'permanent resident card'!! So, he proceeded to change that in the documentation and we will not have to worry to go through any more immigration trouble 18 months from now!
So, that's the story! We finally reached the end of our trip. We are finally back in Madrid. We finally solved the US permanent residence nightmare and we are finally 'sort of' ready to go back to Montana, so that Alia can finally complete here forestry degree. I am sorry I stretched the story so much, going through all the details that the message became so long. I guess I got to excited! I guess most people usually say they like long messages...
I just wanted to say we had a wonderful time with you and we really would like you to realize we had loved to spend more time there. However we were a bit stressed, knowing we really did not have much time left to make it to Madrid on time.
I also wanted to say you and Helena were of great help. It was really good we had the chance to enjoy a couple of wonderful, relaxed evenings with you, before all that mad journey. At least we went off with all batteries charged: physically, but also spiritually. We were not able to get much sleep on our journey to Madrid, but at least in Budapest we got the best rest we would need to be prepared for all the effort we were going to make. The same is true about the food. We barely had any food left on our last day from France to Spain. Except for the 'gazpacho' we made at your house the morning we left. We were also lucky we started our adventure with our stomachs full of the best food we have had in a very long time. I hope you and Helena will be able to find some time to write down the recipes of those stuffed peppers and the chicken pasta. I know Helena uses secret magic powder to achieve that amazing taste, but, hopefully, she will be able to come up with something similar we may use instead, that may be easier for us to find. I can tell you Alia keeps talking in her dreams about that chicken pasta and we both like to cook, so we would really like to learn how to make those dishes. Maybe one day we can cook them for some CouchSurfing guests! You can be sure we will not forget to explain them we got those recipes from Hungary...
But, even more than the sleep or the food, I wanted to tell you we had a very good time talking to both of you. Thank you very much for the wonderful time in Budapest!
Javier and Alia
