The Visa

 Monday, February 13, 

I am sitting on a bench of an Sbahn station, waiting for the S41 Ringbahn. I drink an espresso with a Laugenecke, my favorite German bread, which I would describe as a mix between a croissant and a Bretzel, and so a mix between France and Germany. I soak it in the Espresso, thinking about Carla, who says that french people soak everything in their drinks, and I also think about my mom who soaks her bread in her Colombian hot chocolate, every afternoon. I remember Vienna, where I tried my first Laugenecke, and which was my first contact with the German speaking world, to prepare myself for doing a Phd in Berlin: a bigger, more aggressive city than Vienna, and even colder than Vienna in winter I would say. The sky is gray again, as most days in the last 3 months. And I am so used to it that on the first sunny day in 10 days last week I got a migraine because of the sun. It is raining a bit, but it is not cold. I can stay outside without my gloves, I didn't have to put on so many lawyers this morning. The temperature is almost the same as in Bogota, and the wet, gray, dirty floor reminds me of my city, and a little bit of Paris too. My friend Olja told me that fog made her very nostalgic, because it reminds her of Odessa, her city. Indira remembers Pamplona when there's Rain or fog. And what makes me more nostalgic, is Rain, and I think Rafa would agree, even though he might think more about the Bogotan birds. I think about the fact that everytime a big event happens in my life: when I move, after a breakup or the death of someone, or after getting my Visa, I get very nostalgic. I feel forced to do some rituals that seem connected with my past and future, which draw a continuity with myself to fight against the feeling that my life is divided in separate pieces. Remembering serves as a tool for unifying, for giving sense to the past and future. Traveling in my head to all those past moments is a way to avoid forgetting, it is also a tool to be happy, to feel things are improving and that I am the one living them, contemplating time go by. Having a coffee with bread and writing a bit has always been one of those rituals. Yes, the coffee changes: in Bogota I had a Tinto, in París I had an ugly café, in Belgium I prefer a Machiatto, in Vienna a Brauner oder Verlängerter, in Berlin an espresso or Cappuccino. The bread also changes: un pan blandito, un pan rollo, un croissant, pain au chocolat, Laugenecke, Bretzel... Before, I didn't smoke when I had coffee. Now I do. Sometimes I have my coffee in the Park, sometimes in fancy coffees, sometimes in the street, sometimes in empty local bakeries. Everything changes all the time, but there is something essential that remains. The same goes for me. I change, but in the end I am the same young girl and her rituals. Rituals travel with you, like memories, and that's why they become home, when you change of home so often. People you love also travel with you, in your memories, and that's why I need nostalgia as well, to be able to love.

Sitting on the Sbahn bench also reminds me of romantic love. I've cried in S Bahn benches, of happiness and sadness, reading letters or messages of men I have loved, or that I still love because you don't stop loving so easily. I remember my friend Ana, who died already almost 2 years ago and with whom I used to have coffee and talk about coffee. 

I've heard that smells also make your head go directly to the past. Smell is one of the most emotional senses and most Colombians love the smell of coffee. Sometimes my friends here in Berlin say that Germany doesn't have smells. It is Harder to smell German food from a long distance, bakeries have softer smells. But I know some smells that clearly remind me of my first trip to Berlín, the smell of Kebab, the smell of bad perfume, which I smelled today again, the smell of pee in the metro station. Those smells remind me why I am here, guided by the odors, like a cat, like the cat of Indira's story. The past brings me to the present, gives me necessary logic, guides me to the future. And that doesn't mean I am stocked in the past. The past just travels with me wherever I go.

That's why I would say that I am friends with the past. That's why there are pictures of my friends in the room, books that I have been carrying around, cards in my wallet that remind me of happy days or of people I love. That's why people do tattoos, or tell stories. 

This text was meant to be about my Visa, I digressed again. But everything is connected, the coffee, the smells, the memories and the VISA. The visa symbolizes for me the end of a period. It means that I can stay in Europe for four years and that I have a job until 2027, so it means that I am not a student anymore. It means that my máster in Paris is over, and that it served its purpose: to get a Phd, to get a salary. In euros. It symbolizes a dream, the German dream. A dream shared by many hispanic persons, but which is also a nightmare. I started learning German when I was 15. Everybody around me told me that German would open many doors. I learned German history, as I learned French history when I was younger. I also learnt Colombian history. But not as much as I should have learnt. The reason for this is the obsession of the Colombian upper classes with Europe, and with the USA. So a Visa for Germany represents the biggest success, the right to stay in one of the richest countries in Europe. A rich but cold country. Full of Jobs and full of problems. Full of opportunities and depression. The Visa is the light that the sky doesn't have. My salary is the happiness I need to deal with the dark days. It feels weird. I think about all the friends that have moved here chasing their dreams, but that have, as me,  bittersweet feelings. The start of a New life always means the end of a past one, and as such, it means grief. My Visa is a mix between hope and grief. It is also the possibility of finally learning German, because even though I've been trying to learn German for many years, I haven't been able to get to the level I need for a life here. I used to dream of reading Kant and Hegel in german. Now, I don't feel I need Kant anymore. I'd rather read in english or spanish, I'd rather read papers or literature books, I'd rather read Beauvoir in french. I have many questions. Why did we dream with this so much? Carla and I Wonder. Why are we so far away from Barcelona and Bogota? Will it be worth it? Will this feeling of not belonging anywhere go away? Some days I don't want to learn German anymore. I want to speak Spanish and play with my language with my friends all weekend long, write poems, make jokes, create words as we once did with Rafa, who is also here in Berlin, also attached to Spanish, even though he does speak german. And I clarify, this is not a complaint. I could never say I am unhappy, moreover, my friends tell me I never looked happier than now. And I agree, Berlin and the distante it has brought me, have made me happier than ever, and I know how privileged I am, more than ever. I am an immigrant here, but of the most privileged kind: White, with documents, with a salary, with a job in academia. The cold is hard but also beautiful, the snow is the metaphor of that: it is so beautiful and so aggressive at the same time. 

So if this is not a complaint, what is it? It is somehow a demonstration of ambivalence, again. 

A personal diary about my Phd topic, my day to day obsession. An invitation for all of you to not deny the existence, the simultaneous existence of conflicting emotions towards something, of opposed feelings: sadness and happiness, anger and gratefulness... My convictions shatter, I don't believe anymore that German philosophy is the best philosophy. I have ambivalent desires about what to do. And I like it. I like it a lot, it makes me closer to the truth. I believe that privilege is also ambivalent, and that maybe recognizing ambivalence is a way to create mutual understanding; maybe no one is fully oppressed or oppressor, maybe living in Germany and growing up here has many good things compared to growing up in violent places in Colombia. But it is not so absolute. Again, I am not a relativist, I just want to be honest, and to write about what I've learnt. 

To finish this long reflection that oscillates between a diary and an essay, I will finally try to summarize my Visa adventures, which show simultaneously, the privilege I have, that allowed me to finally get this document, and the bureaucratic walls that I still had to face. But if you got to this point of the text already,  I want you to take this as a story like any other, spiced up by the power of narrative and of turning every small thing into a fun story.

So, everything started in France. I had a student Visa at the time, because I was doing my master in Paris, but I didn’t know what I was going to do after I finished the master. I could have applied for a one year visa to find a job in France, but I forgot I had to ask for it from France, and I left for a trip to Germany, because it was the summer of the 9 euro ticket. I didn’t have a Visa for the year after, and I already had a ticket for Colombia. Also, I had failed the defense of my Master Thesis in France, which was unexpected for me, and which made uncertainty even bigger: I had to defend it again in september, but I didn’t have a Visa, or a Master, so I didn’t know what would happen to me afterwards. But during the trip around Germany with the 9 euro ticket, when I was taking a bus from Munich to Berlin, I received an email from a Philosophy mailing list, offering a PhD in Berlin. I always considered Berlin as an option for me, moreover, I thought that I had to live there once. Because of my obsession with big capitals, it was only logical that after Paris, a bigger capital should come: Berlin. But not only was it amazing to find a possible PhD in Berlin, but also it was in my area, because every time I checked before I hadn’t found anything in my area in Berlin. And the best was, that I googled the professor that needed a PhD student, and I basically had a crush. It was a French professor, called Manon Garcia, with whom I identified to another level: she studied in my same school in France, she studied philosophy and economics, and she is a feminist. I knew that that PhD position was everything I dreamt for all my life. So I applied.

Time went by, I came back to Colombia for the summer vacations, and I had an interview for the PhD. I hadn’t finished correcting my master thesis at that point, but I still got the PhD pretty easily; it was a perfect fit. I got very excited because I thought this meant I wouldn’t have to worry about a Visa so much for four years, and that I was going to get it soon. I started sending emails to the Freie University asking about what I needed to do to get it, and they said they would help me. So I just believed I would get a Visa for Germany, and I took a flight to France to defend my thesis in person. I knew there was a risk: my Visa for France (the one I still had, as a Master Student) expired in the middle of September. I defended my thesis at the beginning of September, and as soon as I did that, I tried to get an appointment at the German consulate in Paris. It made sense that since my residence at the time was in France, not in Colombia, it was possible to get the Visa for Germany from France. And it was in fact possible. In theory. In practice, the waiting time for an appointment at the consulate was ¡Three months! I tried to call them, and I went there. No one answered. They just kept telling me to send emails to a different address every time, and they never answered. My director wanted me to arrive in Germany at the beginning of October, to be able to be there at the beginning of the Semester and even teach a course. But the days went by, and it was impossible to get an appointment in Paris. I started to get very stressed and I booked an appointment in Colombia, in case I needed it. And then my French Visa expired. 

But I still had hope to find a way someone could help me to go to Germany, without having to go back to Colombia. And if you are wondering why I didn't get the Visa before going to Paris to defend my thesis again; well, it was exactly because I had to defend my thesis again: I needed a Master diploma, that I didn't have because I failed my thesis, to apply for a Visa. So everything was circular. And it started to become more and more circular. I ended up calling the German international office to ask them what I could do and they told me: 

• “It’s not your fault you haven’t been able to get a Visa from France, you did everything right, it’s just that there are no appointments at the German consulate in Paris. The only thing you can do is to get out of Europe”. 

With my Visa expired, I knew this was true. I was with my friend and I just took my phone and bought a ticket to Colombia, with the privilege of my parents being able to pay for it. I then had what I think was the best week of my life: most of my friends were in Paris, also all of the men I’ve been in love with. I was celebrating the two biggest academic successes in my life: graduating from the best university of France, and getting a PhD in Berlin. Then, I was back at my home three weeks after having left. It felt weird. But I was happy to be back, and I hoped that since I had an appointment, it was going to be quick. It wasn’t, of course. I went to the appointment, but it turns out they needed me to translate my master diploma, which I basically got on the morning of the appointment. I translated it. But then, again, I couldn’t find a second appointment at the consulate to bring it. And nobody could help me. I was very embarrassed with Manon. She wanted me to be in Berlin at the beginning of October, and it was already the end of october. One day, because of a very lucky coincidence (I got a date canceled since I was late), I managed to enter the appointments website at the right moment and an appointment was liberated: I took it. It was at the end of october, but it didn’t matter, as long as I could have the Visa. I finally got my Visa, for three months. Because then the idea was to come to Germany and get the official residence permit. But at least I could travel. I also managed to move my flight back, and I had to stop in Paris for 12 hours, which also made me very happy. I got to Berlin the 3 november. 

At that point, again, I thought everything was going to be easier, that the worst was solved. But then, I learned I couldn’t have a contract until I had a permanent residence permit, but I also couldn’t have a permanent residence permit if I didn’t have a contract. Again, my director was very patient and helpful with me, and I just thought about how lucky I was in that sense, because I understood why for so many professors hiring latinoamericans is not so desirable. I couldn’t teach, I couldn’t get paid, and I needed help from my director. The university finally agreed on signing a temporary contract for me, but in January, after two months of unpaid research, and of course, unpaid bureaucracy, plane tickets, etc. I signed the contract and my German Visa expired. It took a long time again to get an appointment to renew it, even though this time the university took charge of getting the appointment. I finally got it, for the 13 February, after 6 months of this Visa process, and after doing research for 3 months without being paid. I am very lucky because my parents could help me during that time, and because I could go back to Colombia. But if this wasn’t the case, then what would have happen? 

Yes, this text is in English. I talked about things that go with me everywhere I go, such as my past and my memories. Languages are also one of those things. Spanish and French follow me everywhere, but English is the language in which friends from different places can understand me, and can understand each other. So that’s also why it travels with me.