Oh the irony...Kazakhstan Connection

I've said for many years that travel is the best teacher.  This has certainly been the case in my life and this trip is no exception.  It is often the disappointments or failures or unexpected detours that teach us the most and show us what we are made of.  When I left Germany yesterday I fully expected to spend the night in Kazakhstan.  Boy, was I in for a surprise...

We arrived in Almaty, Kazakhstan just before midnight.  I felt exhausted and simultaneously excited to see the country.  Unlike what I experienced in Germany, I truly felt like I was on foreign soil the moment I arrived.  The signs were in Russian and the terminal smelled vaguely like I remember from the airport in Kolkata, India - a combination of fuel, people, and incense.  

We were greeted by the customs and immigration officials.  I use the term "greeted" loosely - their tone was cold and official and, in my case, unforgiving.  The scene reminded me of the beginning of the book "Apples are from Kazakhstan" where the author describes the attire of the customs officials saying:

"[A]ll the uniformed officials continue to sport the universial headgear of the authority inherited from the Soviets.  These giant opera bouffe hats of red and brown are so ludicrously out of scale and a have a cartoon quality, like ten-gallon bus conductor's caps.  Those worn by customs officals are topped off in green felt."

(I was not allowed to take pictures while going through customs but the drawing below will give you an idea).

We were chatting quietly amongst ourselves until it was time for each of us to have our moment with the official.  This was the last step between my plans started over a year ago and the beginning of my adventure...or so I thought.  The woman stared at my visa for what seemed like an eternity.  "This is wrong" she said flatly.  I wasn't sure what she was referring to until she called up an even less pleasant woman to explain the situation to me.  The date on my visa was wrong.  One tiny number was supposed to be a "0" instead of a "1." "You must leave and go back to where you came from," said the second woman.  "What?" I said in disbelief.   This couldn't be happening.  I made it so far, I couldn't bear to turn back.  After negotiations with our host and some tears from me the decision remained:

I was being deported.

That's right.  Deported.  I never thought I would say that in all my life, but there I was, being passed off from one official to the next, spoken to in stern Russian, forced to go back down the walkway to get on the same plane I flew in on.  I was going back to Germany.

So, here I am, writing to you from a hotel in Frankfurt after flying over vast swaths of Russia...twice...in one day.  The last 12 hours have been a mad scramble to contact US and Kazakh embassies in Kazakhstan, Germany, and the United States.  We have been managing foreign languages, major time zone challenges, and paperwork complications.  If travel is a teacher then I am certainly getting a lesson in patience, trust, and the willingness to make lemonade from life's lemons.  

Tomorrow I will go to the Kazakh embassy first thing in the morning, new paperwork in hand.  I have to hope and trust that the right people will come through.  Please send good thoughts my way!

Until then, I will seek out adventure where I am.  I love Germany and I will cherish the opportunity to spend a day or two in this incredibly country.  

For now...auf wiedersehen! (Until I see you again)

Note: I must give a sincere thanks to my traveling companions and Teachers for Global Classrooms for doing such an incredible job to try to resolve the situation.  You all have been wonderful!