Musings On This World And That Ideas & Jellyfish

By Askin Ozcan

Embark on a captivating journey of introspection and contemplation with this unique and entertaining pack of thoughts. This fascinating collection of short stories is a profound and insightful exploration of the world we know and the one we can imagine with the diversity and discovery of our thoughts. With enchanting narrations and storytelling techniques, the book takes the readers to a platform where they can delve into the diversity of human experiences. This remarkable anthology aims to provide an unforgettable reading experience to readers of different ages.
A literary gem that takes you into the realms of thought and imagination!
• Insightful introspection of human experiences.
• Contemporary views on the world.
• Heartwarming narration.
• A collection that allows readers to ponder over the mysteries behind the existence of life.
• A must-have for an introspective reading experience.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Fingerprint Publishing
• Release date: Apr 1, 2011
• ISBN: 9789358561319

Book preview

    Everybody likes to travel. But some travel too much! In order to stop those who travel too much, restrictions have been put on travelling. Americans pay tax on their tickets, ex-communists pay tax for their exit-visa from their own countries – sufficient for many months' supply of vodka; in many countries, citizens are allowed to travel abroad only for a limited amount of times. Sometimes, the border police of the rich, industrially-developed, but ecologically-ruined countries, stop those from poorer lands even though their passports and visas are in order:

Where are you going to?

I—I—I am going to visit a friend.

What are those six suitcases?

They are my clothes for my trip.

How long will you stay?

One week...

And that's it then! Passports are stamped with funny red stamps: REFUSED ENTRANCE according to such and such law, the name of which is longer than the name of the guy who has travelled thousands of miles to try his luck in this wealthy land. Sometimes visas are asked for, sometimes return tickets, sometimes ownership certificates of real estate, sometimes references showing one has a stable job in his homeland, sometimes marriage certificates to guarantee that a spouse is waiting back there... And sometimes the fake versions of all these are arranged.

The funniest of all are the political refugees who are seventeen years old or a little older, who claim a right to political asylum, because their political convictions don't match with the politics of their country. No need to study social sciences or politics, or to have written a book or two on one's political visions and doctrines, these self-made juvenile politicians often get political asylum, when academicians and artists are refused entrance to the richer lands.

In the old days, there had been periods when no border controls existed and people could simply travel from one country to another without a passport. But, in our world today, where the population is growing with a greater speed than in any other product line, where difference in wealth is becoming bigger and bigger among countries, international travel is becoming more and more restricted.

Once the border police stopped me as I visited a new tourist-land:

Why do you come here so often?

Look at the posters hung everywhere about your country, welcoming tourists! I pointed to the posters hung in the arrival hall. I am not here more often than the number of posters you have everywhere! I joked.

The policeman smiled.

If a policeman smiles, it is good. It is good for him and it is good for you too. So he let me come into his country...

Once going into a Scandinavian country, the border police stopped me.

Passport!

I showed him my Canadian passport.

I see. You are Canadian. How come you have black hair?

My mother is Scandinavian. I replied.

Once again, coming into another Scandinavian country, the border police questioned me, looking at my Canadian passport, where Turkey is written as my place of birth.

Canadians do not need a visa to visit that country, but Turks do.

Were you Turkish when you were born? asked one policewoman.

People are not born with nationalities, I replied. Nationalities are given a few days later, during the registry of birth.

I know that, she protested. A tall police-woman she was! Were you a Turkish citizen before you became a Canadian citizen?

Look, I said, you are holding a legitimate Canadian passport in your hand. If you don't know how to use it, it is described on the second page.

She looked at the second page, where it says: The Minister of Exterior Affairs of Canada requests all those concerned, to let the bearer pass freely and without hindrance and afford the bearer all assistance as may be necessary. She was lucky, or rather I was! Because, in the earlier versions of the Canadian passports, it read: Her Majesty the Queen requires all those concerned, to let the bearer pass freely and without hindrance and afford him all assistance as maybe necessary!

I also had a Turkish passport in my pocket. I showed it when travelling to countries where Turkey is liked and citizens of Turkey do not require a visa, but where westerners are frowned upon.

You got to know your ways in our world!

Once, passing from Germany to Denmark, the German policeman checking my passport started grinning while looking at my passport. He was looking at the page where there was my photo, my name and my place of birth, which is Turkey. I didn't think any of those were laughable or deserved a grin. So I objected:

There is nothing to laugh at on that page, I remarked. It is a very nice picture of mine, my name is a nice Turkish name and my birth place is Turkey, partner of Germany in the WW1... I was saying.

He became furious:

One more word and you can't leave Germany! he said.

Of course, I didn't utter any more words.

Upon arrival in Denmark, this time the customs officer picked on me in the line, while I was waiting to get an entry stamp.

Open up your luggage please!

I opened up my suitcase.

He started to look closely. And everyone in the line too...

Look, I said, it is OK for you to look in my suitcase, but I don't want other passengers look in it!

He, then, scolded the passengers in his heavily Danish-accented English and people stopped looking. Really, one would think they were all with the customs department too!

Once, while leaving Sweden, the passport police was looking at my passport, which had only one blank page left, which I needed for a visa. I asked the policeman not to stamp on that blank page and explained that I needed it for a visa and asked him to put the exit stamp somewhere on another page. He stamped right in the middle of that blank page, which obliged me to get a new passport, to make room for the visa I needed.

Once I needed a transit visa for Hungary and went to the Hungarian Consulate in Stockholm.

The lovely secretary told me there was a waiting time of three days or so for the visa, which I desperately needed that day. I sat against the reception, at a table, wondering what to do on one hand and appreciating at the same time, the beauty at the reception.

Why do you keep sitting there and looking at me? She asked smiling. I told you there is a waiting time for three days if you want a visa!

I am just wondering how to solve this problem. I answered. I must get my visa today. Do you think I have a chance if I tell you that I am in love with you?

To talk like this is taboo in many cultures, but knowing Hungarians a little bit, I didn't hesitate taking such an approach. Right at that time, the Consul had come to her, to talk about something and had heard my words.

Are you in love with her? he queried sympathetically.

Yes. I replied, smiling. But she won't give me a visa!

The two talked about me for a minute, eyeing me, smiling. Then, the Consul said,

If you are in love with her, I think we can help you, and asked for my passport and they arranged for a transit visa in fifteen minutes. I had always appreciated the Hungarians' sense of humour and was really thankful for their help.

I asked them, if I may bring for them something from Hungary on my way back and they said it was not necessary and wished me a nice trip to Hungary. I guess they must have been glad to get rid of me.

But such nice surprises do not happen often when one travels and border police are usually a pain in the neck.

Well, being rather annoyed with the border police, and having problems with them all the time, I have thought of a way to resolve this problem once and for all, and also ridicule them strongly. My idea was to produce a passport which didn't actually belong to any country, but had on it a serious- looking republic name like REPUBLIC OF BGNAWA or REPUBLIC OF LIMBABWESH or REPUBLIC OF NLWANDA or something along that line, which sounded African.

Republics in Africa come and go so often and have difficult names, so I thought the passport-police in Europe wouldn't know the names of all the African republics anyway and I would easily get away with such a passport in the west. I could probably get a few visas on it from equally ignorant consulates here and there, and they would start looking even more real after that.

Then, I thought, I could start taking it even to the consulates of the bigger countries. If they questioned, I could protest and point out the previous visas I had obtained from other countries' consulates.

Such a passport would not only be cheaper, it would also enable me to ridicule and laugh at all those border policemen who give me a hard time. Each time I travel, I would get my revenge. Then, I thought, I could even mass produce it and sell through an underground network of salesmen.

Although I have not yet started with its production, the idea seems very lucrative and attractive.

Even before we started with the production, I got an interesting inquiry from a friend in India, asking whether or not we are planning to open our consulates of Republic of Nlwanda and if we did, whether we would consider him as an honourary Consul for India. He said in his letter, he was sick and tired of selling snakes and would be grateful, if we could appoint him as an honourary Consul for India. He said he knew a lot of snake merchants who would be interested in obtaining the citizenship and the passport of Nlwanda and would be willing to pay any amount by barter for that matter. That would indeed make a lot of snakes, I thought, and would probably suffice for all the border policemen around the world!

    Sometimes, I pity the politicians. In general, I mean, in most countries, people make them suffer too much. People don't seem to be satisfied at all. Their governments build houses for them and people don't like them. They say, Our houses are too ugly, They don't function well, They are too noisy and they don't have this and they don't have that!

They don't have