Happy Birthday to Me

I just thought I'd mention, quite possibly my suckiest birthday ever. Not to be complaining and all. It's just that, that was the day I travelled from Nigeria to Benin. Why was it sucky? Firstly because I didn't get to have the memorable Nigerian party I was planning. Instead I travelled alone to a place where I don'’t speak the language. To top it off, it was raining, heavily, on me when I got there, and arrived at the Nigerian embassy where I was told they weren't going to give me a visa to return back to Nigeria. So dripping wet, depressed and alone I went and found a hotel (eventually) and for the next day or two tried to tell myself it was all ok and that I wasn't stuck in some little country with no way of getting back to Nigeria or even home (my plane ticket, from Nigeria anyway, was expired).

Luckily I won that mental battle a day or so later and tried to enjoy the rest of my trip. The Nigerian embassy dude was very not happy when I saw him. The guy before me got a 5 second interview (not exaggerating) telling him no he can't have a visa because you are ssupposed to get it from your country of residence, this is all despite the fact he'd lived in Benin for 6 months. The consular guy took some pity on me and subsequent to this, some help from Dele and a whole heap of stress dumped on my parents (HELP! send money/plane tickets/anything NOW!) I am back in Nigeria. I'd just like to say thanks to that guy from Belgium who I shared complaints with and who counselled me a bit after my harrowing Nigerian embassy experience over lunch.

That was actually the 14th of July – Bastille Day. And although I was in no mood at the time, this guy invited me to come to a party at the French embassy. By the time my mood picked up later that night I decided to try and go. It was a real high class affair judging by the police, roadblocks, and fancily dressed people all leading to the embassy. But unfortunately I couldn't gatecrash the thing, as I was neither a French citizen or invited guest (and my friend didn't even know my name, yet alone remember to leave my name on the list). Plus I don't think my asking the French official if he spoke English was the wisest way to schmooze my way in. So instead I bore a French tri-colour ribbon (there were these girls who come out of the dark and quickly pinned a ribbon to you before you can stop them and then ask for money) and went back to my hotel for a lonesome dinner.

P.S. I'll say this for the French, at least they stick around their colonies, but damn their computer keyboards are hard to write on!