Independent Madness

There are three ways to see the world.  1- The Tourist: This is a temporary guise,(usually two weeks) wherein life is viewed through  proverbial rosy glasses and in an euphoric bubble of anticipated vacation bliss. Next is,  2- The Company Expat: Here is a slightly cavalier attitude wrapped by a protective cocoon called "Re-locating services, company psychologists, home based clubs and schools". These recreate the Homeland to bring comfort whilst skinny dipping in foreign lands.  (Don't yell at me, but will  gingerly place the military here simply to avoid sub-divisions.- Call me lazy. Actually, I just need more coffee..) Finally, it's 3- The Independent. That intrepid, slightly mad with individual, oozing curiosity who "does it on their own". These same individuals tend to wander down twisted alleys and peer into the places The Tourist is warned away from. This explains the inexplicable differences in photos and eating experiences taken in the same geographical area.

I agreeably high-light the "Mad" definition. As a fully fledged member of Group 3, toss in being a single mom while adventuring and perhaps "mad" is too gentle a term. (I see those nodding heads of my friends..) While traveling with younger children brings the dubious but fought for privilege of early plane embarkation,( which begs the question why don't they let us OFF first too-don't they know we are desperate people!)  traveling with teenagers is a whole new scenario that drives one to frequent toilet escapes for a last scrambled grasping attempt at sanity before you throw yourself  at the ticket lady begging her to check them in as Excess Baggage. "I'll Pay, I'll PAY"...

I digress. Children aka Teenagers aside, the biggest challenge The Independent faces is - The Bureaucrat.  They come in all sizes, shapes and they speak in Strange Tongues. They have forms for their forms and each one is formulated.  One is tempted to wrap on the garlic and stash a spare bottle of Holy Water before entering their dark lairs.
The Tourist, protected by a two week visa, hotels and sight-seeing rarely, if ever enters this mind-altering Maze. This could account for their bubbly, blissful statements of "darling, I just loooove this place, it's Adorable!"
Mr & Mrs Company Expat are also partially exempt from the full fury of The Bureaucrat. They are provided ample arrival services to beguile them into a sense of safety in their new environment.  They may tear a few strands of hair when required to deal with daily services and life, but mostly manage smooth sailing in and out of said country due to ever so helpful, Company.
The Independent lives, breathes,eats and chokes on the land they enter. Having lived, laughed and occasionally bashed my way through over 10 countries, children in tow, I claim a certain expertise on the subject of Bureaucracy and the creatures that reside in those grey labyrinths called Government Offices. Is there a worldwide conspiracy that dictates they all use grey paint?  Hmmmm...
I judge Bureaucrats by two marks. A- level of politeness ( do Not confuse with helpfulness) and B- alternate options allowed.

New Zealand takes first prize on Mark A, with the old Dubai taking a slow second.( Dubai has special rooms for ladies and moms to wait with free coffee, cake and magazines. Don't knock it 'til you tried it...) India, Dubai and Ireland all rock for B: Alternate Options. Alternate options chiefly include Little Men that Run Fast From Line to Line. ( They are worth every dinar, rupee and euro) or, the second favorite, Friends of Friends option.  Both these options get the job done with minimum effort  and  also save the Independent from losing what's left of  their minds completely to end up either bawling from frustration or aiming to repeat a Guy Fawkes action. Yes, I have seen this happen!
Australia is limping along behind the US on presenting that formal and oh so serious face. Thou shalt Not smile and even if  You Think your innocent, we "know what you did last summer"... We shuffle along with our heads bent in prayer.
But, the Top of the Top, Icer on the Cake, Be All and End All of Bureaucrats is--- wait for it,- Germany.
They wallow in rudeness, are masters of inefficiency and wave their banners of red tape.  And each one has, a rubber stamp... Still not sure what the stamp is, but they each have one, they could be inherited..
There are no Alternate Options, there are no solutions, there is just Paper, (the cut down a forest real paper) more paper and the only country where signing your name and having no clue to what you are signing is de rigour.... They no Speakee the English, Spanish, French or Italian. They only Speak and write, The German. They don't translate, explain or suggest. Not sure what they do, as mentioned, they do have rubber stamps...
All in all, a nightmare of colossal proportions.Germany, you take the prize. This may be my fathers' Vaterland, but baby, I is Red, White and Blue ,with a delicate shading of Irish Green :)...

Sometimes, you have to travel to find your way home...