I don’t have a passport

At this moment in time, I don’t have a passport. Or what I mean is I don’t have my passport with me; it’s in the Indian Embassy of Helsinki. For someone who goes abroad more than she visits her parents, and considering there was a time in my life when a passport was my only valid form of identification, I feel legless without it. It’s not like I would hop on a plane tomorrow… But you know, if I wanted to, I wouldn’t be able to.

I wish there was some way I could send fan mail to the embassy and tell them to treat my passport as lovingly and carefully as they would if I had sent them a baby, but I reckon that would only slow down the visa process and make the whole ordeal really weird.

At least when it gets back it will have a pretty print on it saying that I am allowed to enter India and try not to die there. Plus it will be totally cool to just flick through the empty pages because they have pictures of moose and swans and stuff now. They started prettying up the passports only a few months after I got my last one, which was convenient timing since obviously the Finnish police wanted to make the departure from my first self-obtained but eternally dull passport more facile.

Confused? Let me put you up on the map here and just briefly explain that as I sent my passport to the embassy for the first time about three weeks ago, they promptly sent it back and told me to get a new one since the one I had was “too damaged”. Emotionally, no doubt, remembering all the things I put the poor thing through, but mostly physically; the back pages were smeared in untraceable black stuff that can only happen if the passport hangs out on a floor of an Irish pub for a night – funny story, actually, I might have to come back to that later -, and on the last page there was a text “yo” as an unfortunate attempt by the first guy who ever hit on me while travelling to write down his phone number. Just a tip: ruining the girl’s passport won’t double your chances with her.

Anyway, hopefully the visa-ed passport will be back in my grasp before my next flight. It is a strange thing to be excited about a thing as simple as a passport, and even stranger than one could scribble a fond, lenghty blog post about one, but I guess it’s one of those hashtag justbackpackerthings?

Sydney, Australia


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