Fun With Immigration Part 43

I feel like we've spent the last 92 hours swinging from an emotional pendulum. One minute it's "Yay! We're going to Fiji!" and the next it's "No! Radka needs a Australian visa. "Yay! We got the visa and were actually able to rebook all our tickets!" and then... Well...if you're one of those people that's adept at detecting paterns you can probably see what's coming next.

"I'm sorry. There seems to be a problem with New Zealand immigration. They want us to contact them before we can let you board." YOU. MUST. BE. JOKING. As it turned out, they weren't. Stupid questions were asked (to me: are you a citizen of New Zealand? this while holding my US passport.) and after calls were made back and forth with New Zealand and after about an hour had elapsed, we were told we could board. Uhh...gee...thanks for the favour.

Now it was time to pay for overstaying my visa (against my will). First the Indonesian immigration officer tries to inform me that I had overstayed one day longer than I actually had. "Nope." Then, instead of directing me toward the immigration office where I was meant to pay my 600,000 Rp, he looks around in a rather dodgey manner and whispers conspiratorialy, "Just put 500,000 in your visa and hand it to me." Hmmm...I guess I won't be getting a receipt for this one. The up side of bribery and corruption (besides saving a hundred thousand Rp) is that now I don't have any "over stay" marked in my passport. Whatever...just get me out of this place.

By the time the plane lifted off, all was almost forgoten. The lay over in Brisbane was fine enough and, as we expected, no one even checked Radka's hard earned transit visa. We were feeling pretty good by the time we touched down in Auckland but, as fate would have it, it was not to be smooth sailing in the "City of Sails".

"You're OK sir but for some reason the computer's telling me I can't clear her. We are going to have to go over to the office and have you speak with a Customs agent." Great...let's do it....I can't wait.

I think maybe Radka is the first Czech to ever fly into Auckland...or maybe it was training day at immigration...anyway, they mulled over her passport, turning every which way, flipping back and forth through all the pages as if it were all completely incomprehensible to them. Finally, with no explanation, a pleasant clean cut Kiwi stepped towards us with a smile and a "Here ya go mate. That's you sorted for New Zealand," we were in. Just like that....no further explanations.

And thus, the pendulum swung its weight in a brighter direction. That is, untill we rounded the corner to meet the folks at the MAF (the ministry of agricultue and forestry, or something like that). See...New Zealand is a small island country and a pretty beautiful and unspoiled one at that. Although they agreed to take us in as guests, they were not too keen on alowing in all the bugs and strange organisms we might be trailing along with us.

"Can you please remove all items from your bags made of natural materials?"
"Ahhh... does that include things like sea shells and wood carvings?"
"Yes. Exactly." Ahhh...right.

As we began to pull our perfectly packed and wraped souveigners from our bags it was becoming painfully obvious that almost everything we were carrying was made from natural materials. Masks. Carvings. Wooven reeds. ...and on and on and on. Then came the moment we had all been waiting for...Radka's shell collection. This is not a shell collection like you or I might assemble. This is a shell collection suitable for starting a "Beaches of the World" exhibit back in Czech Republic. I cringed.

At the end of the day, the people of the MAF were incredibly nice and patient (although visibly perturbed at times for missing their lunch break to hand check 980 shells for creepy crawly things) and let us pass un-fined or detained. Of course they did insist on holding on to most of the items in quarantine untill we departed the isle. Fair enough...I didn't really want to lug all that stuff to Fiji anyways.

It's a nice airport here...plenty of quiet spots to curl up for the night... some even with a view of the runway and the sea. In fact, SleepingInAirports.net even awarded it the Golden Pillow award (i'm not even joking). Unless the old pendulum decides to swing once more, it looks like we'll be in Fiji by this time tomorrow. I need a drink. Fortunatly, the cocktail lounge is right next door to our bedroom.