Thank You, Romania!

The thing about being Romanian is something of a controversy: the aw-s and oh-s I get from unsuspecting locals whenever I utter the name of my country are pleasing in their own childish way, especially when corroborated with ‘Europe?’ or, my favourite, ‘communist!’. But for this little joy, the troubles I get are mercilessly disproportionate. The latest (and probably most upsetting) episode can be dutifully used as a milepost in this Romanian’s life:

I am not really sure, I thought as I boarded the international bus from Pakse to Bangkok. It’s a VIP bus and looks quite comfortable and it’s only 30 degrees outside so they gave us blankets. I shifted around in my seat trying to find another spot so that my thigh would stop rubbing on the old Thai’s (or was he Lao?) overflowing bottom. We had been moving for about 15 minutes. I could not discover such a position. But the eternal Lao music is on and this seat is the best one I’ve had yet. I was sitting in front with the panoramic view through the front window of the bus and a piercing sunset somewhere beyond. What did I forget? Why does this feel wrong? I didn’t get a chance to change my kip to Thai baht or have a proper meal. Well, still, it’s good that I was able to sell the last of my unused cell phone credit to that not very officious looking girl at the bus ticket counter. And I bought cigarettes so I’m set to be propelled to Thailand.

Only time proved me wrong.

I always try to look inconspicuous whenever I face officials, especially since I know that Romania will, sooner or later, raise some eyebrows and that’s exactly what I did when I was standing face to face with the Thai photo camera and its attached official at the Lao-Thai border.

‘Hmm... Lomaaania...’ Speaking Thai with the other counter attendant. Walking away with my passport clutched closely to his chest.

I remember this, I thought and memories of almost being stranded into no man’s land after finishing my Cambodian epic (and the included visa) and before passing the border into Thailand clouded the thoughtless sunny summer day of my mind. But they figured it out then so they’ll eventually come to a conclusion this time around.

Only that this time around the conclusion was slightly different. A higher level official came smiling towards me:

‘Sorry ma’am no possible to go in my country. No visa for your country. No visa on arrival. Have to buy visa in Pakse...’

I admit I started sweating considerably but my concerns were not so great because I was still sure that everything would work out. 15 minutes into the conversation I obviously needed a huge towel to dry my ever-expanding perspiration and I needed a good cry, shout and yell to smash my frustrations to smithereens. No possible!

What argument can I use now? I’m really out of choices, damn it! I cursed under my breath; I called them Romanian names that kids should not learn; I tried making a sad face which usually helps but it was hopelessly ignored. What now? And what about my great plan of getting to Bangkok, get the Burmese visa and sleep in the airport? How will this work?

Not even when the Thai officer politely (and, possibly, a little too perky) escorted me to the bus to get my backpack and accompanied me back to Lao territory, smiled brightly, shook my hand and hoped we’d meet again (ha! Like that’s ever going to happen!) did I realize what my country had done to me. Or was it the shitfaced Thai laws that sabotaged me?

I’m sure that if I’d still been a non-smoker (ex smoker) I’d have lit one up right now, my inner demon viciously grinned at my inner, fragile cherub, which curled up in a ball and found a corner to pout in peace. And I lit one up. Several, actually, but that’s beyond the point.

The Lao customs people were nice enough to cancel my departure stamp but I didn’t get any money back although it seems that you have to pay them 10000 kip just to leave the country (and they complain about poverty?). Still, a nice Lao official enlightened me on the multiple choices I am given if I go back to Pakse.

‘You can go to Savannakhet, cross the border there or you can go over the Friendship Bridge in Vientiane...’ Yeah, thanks a lot, I thought while freezing an interested smile on my face. That’s the last thing I want to do; spend more time in Laos after all this.

‘Huh?’ I snapped out of my reverie.

‘Where you from? Aw, Lomaaania...’

‘That’s in Europe.’

‘Ahh, Europe!’ something fairly familiar reached his inner ear and he looked back comprehendingly.

Romanian nationality be damned!