Getting Here

[Introduce the reader to the loser embassy women… ugly, dowdy and really friggin moody.]

My father has always told me that when dealing with Bureaucrats one should always stay calm, be clear, answer honestly and smile. What he did not prepare me for were frumpy, thirty-something year old Indian women working at the German Embassy.

“…And why do you want to go to Germany,” the woman asked.

“To learn German,” I answered, looking at her, perplexed.

“And why do you want to go to Germany to learn German?” She looked intrigued, almost as if this was a novel idea.

“Because they speak German in Germany.”

She paused to think momentarily.

“But you can learn German in Bombay.”

“Yes, I’m aware. I actually went to the Goethe-Institut in Bombay and they suggested that if it was possible for me to go to Germany and learn the language, that would be the best option.”

“What about Pune?”

“What about Pune?”

“You can learn German in the Goethe-Institut there.”

By this point I was completely lost. I had made it clear that I believed going to Germany to learn German was the most effective way to learn the language and now they were asking me about Pune.

“Yes. I have heard that the program there was great. But unfortunately they had to close the Institut there.”

“That’s strange. We’re still in touch with them.”

Congratulations?

“You do realize that it’s extremely expensive to learn German in Germany right?”

(UH, yeah I do… I saw the bill.)

“Yes I do, but it really is the most effective way to learn the language.” Insert sweet smile.

A month and a half later I was back at the embassy, this time looking at another unpleasant woman angrily and disinterestedly flip through a newspaper. I was there to pick up my passport and I was almost scared she’d bite my head off if I asked for it. She scowled and grabbed the piece of paper from my hand and threw my passport into a little box. Finally.

In other news, I found Orange Juice.