Overstay in Istanbul

FROM ISSUE # 144 (December 2007) | IN THIS ISSUE
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When I decided to return to Nepal from Turkey, I called on the Kist Merchant Bank who very generously gave me a round trip ticket. Almost penniless I went to the airport, checked in my luggage and got some post cards and began to scribble. While I was writing away, a man approached me and introduced himself. His name was Suleiman and was living in Germany, but was originally from Turkey. Having missed his flight, he was bored and was just looking to pass some time. As for me, I had more than an hour to wait. So over a beer, we started chatting. When it was time for me to go through immigration he gave me his address in Germany and invited me to visit some day. I still had some local currency, but it was not quite enough to be changed into $100. So, I asked Suleiman for 12 Turkish liras in order to reach the $100. He gave me 12 Turkish lira and I changed money.
  
After that we went our separate ways and I headed to the Immigration office. Upon inspecting my passport, I was told that I had overstayed my visa in Turkey.

Honestly, I wasn't aware that I had almost overstayed my visa by 5 days. I only had the permit for three weeks, which I had mistaken for a month. Oops! Too late! The immigration officer sent me to another office to pay the fine. The immigration officer charged me $120. But I had only $100 on me. "What do I do?" That was the biggest dilemma. I couldn't do anything except ask the immigration officer to consider my position and maybe give me a discount. The queue was getting longer by the minute with more and more people coming in to settle their overstay fines. I begged the officer to reconsider my dues, but with his English bordering on the weaker side, most of my pleas landed on deaf ears. Enraged, the officer threw my bill out and asked me for all of the money. If I didn't clear my dues, there was way I could board the flight. Desperately, I scanned for Suleiman, the only person I knew in this strange land.         

My eyes were full of tears. He was nowhere in sight. Crestfallen, I went back to the immigration officer. Somebody saw me crying in front of the officer and asked what the matter was. Even the rude immigration officer had the heart to explain my problem to him. He didn't say anything. He just opened his wallet and gave me $50 to settle the fine. I gave $150 to the police and got $30 in change. I wanted to give the rest of the change to that person but he was kind enough to let me keep it. I gave him my visiting card and ran to the immigration as the pager was blaring like mad: 'Pushkar Shah,' it announced, 'this is the last call for you to board the plane.' I ran to the gate. I was the last passenger. The plane was just about to take off, leaving me behind. Thankfully, I made it in time.

Uhi Eklo Yatri