I am waiting. Waiting for a bunch of lunatics to take a decision on my life. They call it background inspection. You are probably wondering if I am a criminal waiting to be tried or something. To tell you the truth, I picture myself in that situation sometimes. I picture this dramatic scenario that I’ve been falsely accused of a major crime and those lunatics want to judge me in a big court room and even though my lawyer is the best, I am bound to exile in some far reached desert in the middle of nowhere. I wouldn’t mind though since I’d be having my own agenda to live my life to its fullest. Anyway, there is no crime and I’m not a criminal. I’m just waiting for the Spanish Embassy to decide if they can allow me into their country. I started this thing like 9 months ago, you know in January 2013. You know, those days were very sad days. It was cold for one thing. Also, these world travelers kept coming to me and going, I was sorta caught up in their mobility. Then it hit me. “What the hell am I doing here?”
Life was good and all. I had this teaching job I liked. My peers recognized me. My students liked me, well for the most part. I was one hell of a teacher for crying out loud. And my bosses kept promoting me. I had my own small apartment with unbelievable stories. I mean truly incredible. Just as an example, this one time we were like 10 multi-nationality people in my 36 square meter apartment hanging out and sleeping overnight. But I wanted more. I don’t mean people. I mean it was satisfactory. I don’t wanna sound like a pseudo-intellectual douchebag, but this satisfaction was not satisfactory enough. I wanted change. New experience. But I must tell you, I wasn’t sad at all, however sad the situation was.
I weighed my options and I found the easiest way to get out of there. You know, different people emigrate for different reasons. Usually, because they don’t get what they want in their own country. They think they can get it if they just go to “the West”. “The West is the best!” No, it’s not! I mean, yes, it has all these fancy stuff, well-fare, convenience, freedom, blah blah blah… but it’s not like they just give it to you. Who are they anyway that you think are responsible for your happiness? So, these crazy immigrants are just getting out for the hell of it, following a false dream that they can sit on their ass anywhere in the world and convenience comes because they serve it to you. They can’t be any more wrong. I mean, sometimes I picture their life. All they do at home is nagging, complaining, labeling, pointing fingers, and wanting what they don’t have. They never want what they have and they always want what they don’t have. I know, I’m being exactly like them in terms of nagging, but you should cut me some slack, at least I know I’m doing it and what the problem is. They are like these old women suffering from schizophrenia, sitting on a bench in a park, blabbering in somebody’s ear, totally unaware of their surrounding and of their being annoying.
Anyway, I just wanted to make it clear I am not as creepy as it sounds. All I know is that I busted my ass to get results. I chose progress over convenience. I wanted what I was capable of getting and I believed in it. A kind of realism with some optimism as a dressing on the side. So, I thought I’d apply for a master program or something, you know because the problem of going to Europe is twofold. First a university must accept you, then the embassy must decide if you are Europe material. In January, I applied for a 1-year master program in Research in Education. You know, I really love doing research. No kidding, I really really like it. Two things that really gives me a good feeling are teaching and doing research. So, I had to pay 45 euros per credit (60 credits in total). So, I applied for it. Then you wait.
It was around March that I kinda got tired and frustrated. For one thing, every creature would ask me: “So, when are you finally leaving?” and I didn’t wanna explain it to them all the time that I need to wait and wait and wait you jackasses. It’s bureaucracy! It’s no game. Gotta take it or leave it. All of a sudden, I quit and said goodbye to my parents and friends and took my backpack and went to Turkey. I didn’t wanna come back till I’m gone for good. If you wanna read my Turkey story, you can browse my previous posts. But you don’t need to. After two months, I had to come back. The university in Spain (Universitat Autònoma de Barcelona) had accepted my application and I had to go to get an appointment for the embassy. To everyone’s surprise, I went back. Then stupid questions started. Why did you come back? Are you going again? Blah blah blah… Arrrrghhhh! So, I just sat on my ass for a month in my apartment in Tehran and having real quality time with my friends and some guests from other countries. It was really nice. Then I thought I’d do some national trips here and there. But, things were getting difficult again and I had to wait two more month for my appointment in the embassy. So, I thought what the hell, let’s hitchhike to Armenia! This time, Hamed, my best friend, joined me and we went away for about three weeks. It was a great trip. This one you must read the post. The name is “The Pros and Cons of Hitchhiking from Tehran to Yerevan“.
Anyway, when we got back, I started collecting the required documents such as criminal records, educational records, health records, financial records, records records! It took me over a month to collect everything and a week to be translated into Spanish, because apparently, in the Spanish embassy, no one can understand English. Well, fair enough, but would it kill them to have someone who speaks English, as well? So, I’m filling this Spanish form out with my friend’s help (Anne-Laure Paty) whose Spanish is so good. Anne-Laure and Marie something are two French girls who visited Iran in August. I really had a lot of fun with them in Tehran, walking the streets.
It’s the day of the appointment, and there’s like 30 people waiting in a queue for their turn at the embassy. And I am number 1! Everyone’s talking about something. Things from “How should I fill this form?” to “Remember to take Iranian vegetable when going to Europe.” to “Do I have to have a passport?” And I’m laughing with myself. You know, that’s why I usually do. When I see stupid people, I laugh with myself. For example, this one time I was in a bus and two dudes were arguing over nothing. I was interpreting their arguments “literally” in my brain. One of them, for instance, said “are you suffering from a blow in the head” to mean that he was crazy. I pictured that guy getting hit by a big baseball bat in the head. That could explain the insanity. Anyway, I kept laughing until the door opened and I entered. It’s too boring for me to describe the inside of the building. So, I just skip this part and leave you with the fact that I gave them all the documents and left.
I am waiting. Waiting for a bunch of lunatics to take a decision on my life.