Pray tell, what is the disaster that world travelers fear the most? What can happen that absolutely destroys a pleasant vacation? What possible item can bring a seasoned traveler to tears? Let’s see. A long security check line? No. A bad case of food poisoning? Perhaps. A terrorist threat? Quite possibly. But the one thing – the ultimate nightmare – is to lose one’s passport. Stranded without hope, unable to communicate with the locals, a person without a country. Oh! Woe! Actually it wasn’t so bad. Let me tell you about it.
During a three week stay in Munich, Barb and I decided to visit a dear friend’s relatives in Skopje, Macedonia. The foray was not without its difficulties. While Macedonia is quite modern in most respects, the shadow of the past internal wars and a shaky record with tourists has kept it off most travelers’ agendas. The flight between Germany and Macedonia required a plane change in Vienna, Austria. This necessitated our passing in and out of Austrian security where both English and German are spoken. While we can get along quite well with the German language and/or in countries where English is a prominent second language, when we arrived in Macedonia, we found Macedonian quite undecipherable. Here they speak their own internal language. In addition, their use of an adaption of Cyrillic letters kept us permanently in the dark when trying to read signs. Nonetheless, the people were very friendly, the weather was wonderful, and all in all we were enjoying our visit.
While Skopje is the capital city and does contain a number of enjoyable sites and places, we read where the city of Ohrid, about two hundred kilometers to the south is the vacation capital of this country. Naturally we had to visit there, and we were well rewarded. Ohrid sits on beautiful Lake Ohrid, surrounded by mountains. The city itself is a resort town, visited by many from other nations. The lake sports flocks of swans, lots of decorated fishing boats, and a colorful fleet of tourist boats. The food was very good, and the prices were by far the best we found in Europe. A large lunch on the patio of a fine hotel on the lake’s edge cost a mere twenty five U.S. dollars for four of us. There is a wide spread of opinions on which currency to use. Macedonia has its own denar which is preferred by local merchants. They have applied to become part of the EU which would require the use of the Euro. This change is popular among politicians, not so among locals.
But alas, (and I’m stealing from my story ending here,) when I pulled out my wallet to pay at this pleasant hotel – unknown to me – my passport jumped from the protection of my cargo pants and very quietly fell to the floor. Here it hid unnoticed while we meandered back to our car and drove the three hours to our hotel in Skopje. There, for the first time I noticed I was naked of my United States protective shield.
The next morning after a frantic search through everything I owned, I notified the local police of my plight and took a cab to the United States Embassy. It was Sunday, and I was told the Embassy was closed but would be available to me on Monday morning at 9:00 a.m. This was cutting it close, as our flight back to Munich left early Tuesday morning. But, I had little choice. I wasn’t getting out of Macedonia without a passport, much less back into Germany. I suffered a great deal of kidding from my wife, Barb, who promised to send me cookies here in Skopje after she got back home to California if they would not let me out.
The Embassy sits high on a hill overlooking the city – a huge concrete structure – surrounded on all sides by ten foot high wire fencing with razor wire on top. Cameras are everywhere. In the guard booth sits a pair of Marines who are polite, but formal. I made the appointment for the next morning.
On Monday I was ushered into the facility, signed papers, swore my allegiance to the United States Constitution, and was politely given a ninety day temporary passport paid in full with US currency. Ah, ‘twas a joy to be whole again.
There is a p.s. to this story. I did speak to my friend’s relatives about my situation. He asked where we had eaten in Ohrid, and I told him. He used his cell phone and called a friend in Ohrid who went over to the hotel and asked the maître d’ whether or not they had found a passport.
“Yes, we found a passport under a table but did not know how to contact the owner. We hoped he would call.” This friend in Ohrid retrieved the passport, went to the local bus station, and gave the passport to a bus driver who was on his way back to Skopje. Truly, four hours later we met the bus at the terminal in Skopje and sure enough – the driver had the package! A nice tip followed. I salvaged all of the past “Stamps In My Passport” – a very comfortable feeling.
Leave a Reply