Arabian Autographs: Townsends' Luck
"My liberty has been taken from me and it is the strangest feeling. I can take on the world with my passport in my purse, but...'' Angela Townsend's passport is stolen in Saudi Arabia. There you go. That's Townsends' Luck. Fortunately, there is a happy ending.
Barely back a week after my trip home to New Zealand my husband and I are making plans to fly to India in a couple of days.
Amer has a month’s work in the engineering office and I have plans to explore Bangalore's MG Road and beautiful parks.
Bangalore is considered the IT capital of India and is a bustling, metropolitan city with an interesting history.
We spent a three-day weekend there last October which offered a taste of the many flavours of Bangalore.
I eagerly anticipate shopping for a silk sari or two to wear there, as well as in Saudi on my return. Western-style clothing is simply not up to the rigours of 45 degree heat, with the humidity of a Finnish sauna thrown in.
My son's and my passports are duly collected and passed on to our Saudi sponsor's new aide to obtain entry/exit visas for Saudi Arabia. Then all we have to do is obtain an India visa.
Sound simple enough? I thought so too.
Unfortunately that is rarely the case in Saudi Arabia, as has unfortunately just been proven.
On returning to collect the passports, Amer was informed the new aide had scarpered along with my passport and a lot of the Sheik's (our Saudi sponsor) money.
OK, don't panic. That just means I am stranded in Saudi. If it turns out I have to go to the hassle and expenses of obtaining a new passport, that means I will remain `identity-less' in Saudi for at least one month.
It is not the fact that India will have to wait - after all it's not going anywhere - it is just an incredibly unsettling feeling to have my liberty stripped from me with no choice about it. It is impossible to go far without my passport: no weekend tripping over the border to Bahrain or the UAE for a change of scenery. Even travelling internally poses a problem, with Saudi Arabia's multitude of checkpoints, and the shopping malls with their rogue Westerner-seeking Muttawa (religious police).
Amer still has his passport, complete with entry/exit visas but, he is going nowhere - I refuse to be stranded here alone due to something I have no control over.
Amer also has his Iqama, which is an identification card complete with my details, so we are OK as long as we stick together. However, this means no more girl's shopping trips on the bus, or Starbucks coffee mornings with friends.
How am I going to survive this catastrophe for a full month?
My liberty has been taken from me and it is the strangest feeling. I can take on the world with my passport in my purse but it is a whole different situation with it running around Saudi in who knows whose hands?
I am jinxed as far as passports go.
Last March Australia Post lost my passport, complete with brand new Saudi visa. It was tracked to my local delivery centre before mysteriously vanishing.
Naturally, I was due to fly in two days.
The New Zealand Embassy staff in Sydney was most helpful, providing me with a brand new passport within an hour of me arriving on their doorstep.
All that was missing was another Saudi visa.
After much faxing of detailed information from Amer who was already in Riyadh, I made the three-hour drive to Canberra.
Apart from the security guard at the gate, I was the first person to arrive on the Friday morning. After a half-hour wait in the car I was ushered in and pleaded my case.
The charming Saudi gentleman assured me he would do what he could but it was unlikely I would have a visa issued that day. However, I should come back at 3 pm `just in case'.
Things were looking up on my return, as he had managed to complete my visa.
Fifteen minutes later I was on the highway back to Sydney.
Meanwhile my travel agent couriered my Emirates ticket to the airport and I made it there 90 minutes before the flight left for Riyadh.
Ah, why does life always seems to be full of minor complications ravelling my best laid plans undone?
I suppose the main thing is that, in the end, I always get there.
My passport has been recovered. My husband has just called to inform me the runaway employee has given himself up. I don't know what punishment he faces, but I imagine it will be memorable.
He has embarrassed, and stolen from, his employer the sheik.
As I make plans to leave for Bangalore, I can't help but wonder how I always manage to get entangled in such sticky webs while trying to live a quiet and simple life.
As my mother always says, it's just Townsends' luck.
