Oh Bother

Because of a bureaucratic glitch, I’m going to have to leave the UK at the end of this month. One is required to have £800 in the bank at all times for the three months prior to making an application for a visa. That first month of working, when I was transitioning from “student” to “full-time worker, taxpayer, and general contributor to society”, I dipped slightly below that. I realised this three months ago (after if was already too late) and called the Home Office; they said the rule was absolute but, of course, someone sits down and reviews my specific situation (e.g. that I have a full-time permanent job and a regular income). However, I called the international student advisor at my school earlier this week to get the necessary documentation from him for my application—and he said not to even bother. Apparently the government is finding any excuse to deny visas (he just had 120 denied because there was a date presented incorrectly on the graduation letter from Strathclyde). He said that, a year ago, in my situation, they would not have even blinked. “Oh, this fellow already has a job…here is the visa”. Now they are absolutely hard-line, black and white.

We are looking into what my options are; my (terrifically supportive) company is keen on keeping me. The most sensible thing is going to be to end my contract here and send me to another one of the offices abroad (France seems the likely contender at the moment, we are checking on the procedure for a French visa [which, though the French have their own reputation for red tape, seems much more at ease than the British system. The Home Office has all these guidelines and forms regarding visas; the French Consulate General website basically says, “call us up for an appointment and we’ll talk about your needs”—perhaps with a glass of wine and some cheese]). The bizarre thing is that the government is shooting itself in the foot with stuff like this; my company is not going to hire someone else in my place, they will just send me to another country…and my tax and social revenue will go there with me. I want to be here! I have a good job, plus I do NGO work on the side and want to bring in folk from the organisations I work with do training and programs here. I’m not leaching off the government or just floundering about. Grrrrrr (to use an exact expression).

It’s a sudden upheaval; just as I am getting settled in, I must leave because of a relatively minor technicality. I will try to come back (as I have till next September to apply for a post-graduate study visa). However, once the visa I have expires (this month), I will have to apply from abroad; applicants from a third country must have £2800 in the bank at all times for the three months prior to application. So wherever I go, it will be for at least three months plus the processing time.

This is all a huge bother and I feel like I’m not dealing with people; just up before a big machine. It is an education though; as an American, it’s easy to fall into an slightly rosy understanding of what one’s rights are to travel and live abroad since my passport opens so many doors. However, my country is famous (now at least) for not reciprocating that openness (e.g. the citizens of many of the places I have been can not travel to the US as readily as I can to their countries). I understand the reasons for all these things on paper; but, when one is dealing with a system that defines people’s lives by an unwavering observation of a set of rules, it’s difficult to maintain an un-biased view.

Merry Christmas

Merry Christmas to you all; wherever my far-flung friends are and however you may celebrate (or not) the season. Though it seems that every comment on the word right now is dire, may the coming year be filled with peace and contentment for you all. No matter the turmoil, we have the un-perturbable nature of human hope in reserve; that is an economy we can draw on regardless.

More synchronicity

I went to Wigtown this morning (it’s known as Scotland’s book town; it’s a small village with about 10 bookshops). I got off the bus, walked into Scotland’s largest second-hand bookshop and the first book I see the title of is the Charlotte Brontë‘s Villette which is—the book I’ve been reading for the past week. I would say it’s bizarre, but I’m just getting used to it.

Synchronicity

I’m reading Synchronicity by Deike Begg. It’s not a book that I sought out; I saw it on the shelf of a friend over the weekend and asked to borrow it (I think, considering the subject matter, one must just come across such books, not look for them).
The term synchronicity was coined by C.G. Jung; he defined it as an “acausal connecting principle.” or, as more coherently defined on Wikipedia:

Synchronicity is the experience of two or more events which are causally unrelated occurring together in a meaningful manner. In order to be synchronous, the events should be unlikely to occur together by random chance.
The concept does not question, or compete with, the notion of causality. Instead, it maintains that just as events may be grouped by cause, they may also be grouped by their meaning. Since meaning is a complex mental construction, subject to conscious and subconscious influence, not every correlation in the grouping of events by meaning needs to have an explanation in terms of cause and effect.
In order to be synchronous, the events should not be causally connected—one should not be the cause of the other, and they should not have an apparent underlying cause.

This is a subject that has fascinated me for some years now because I tend to regularly experience synchronous events. For example, whilst reading and listening to National Public Radio or the BBC, I often read a word and hear it at the same time on the radio (not common words like conjunctions—more often something like “Hindenburgh” or “anachronism”). I have, back in the States, a log of these words (several pages); on a few occasions, it’s happened with entire phrases.

On Saturday, I went to a second-hand bookshop on Great Western Road in Glasgow looking for material on The Golden Ratio (the proportions underlying aesthetics, art, and design across many cultures and ages). A few hours later I was at a dinner where someone brought up the theories of Fibonacci—which are the mathematical implications of the Golden Ratio.

Sunday, on the train to Edinburgh, I read this book whilst listening to music on my iPod. The text mentioned a poem by the 14th Century mystic, St. John of the Cross. Just as I read those words, I listened to the last few notes of Loreena McKennitt’s musical adaptation of the poem. So I was reading a book about synchronous events and had a particularly obscure one doing so; the universe is a fascinating place to be about.

Rule Britannia (Bureaucracy)

Whereas it is probably too simple to obtain a driver’s licence in the States; it seems nearly impossible here. I will not even get to into all the mishaps I’ve had so far (and I have not even been able to apply for the test yet!).
Several weeks ago I called the DVLA (Driver and Vehicle Licensing Agency) to find out what I needed to do to obtain a licence; fill out these forms and take them to your local Post Office—you’ll also need to show your passport for verification. Okay, simple enough. I fill out the forms and go to a specific kind of post office that can verify my documents. However, the woman there says she can’t verify a foreign passport. The guidelines say “If you have a digital UK passport you can register online…if you do not have a digital UK passport your local post office can verify your documents.” This means if you do not have a digital UK passport but have a older paper UK passport, not that you have a passport from another country. So, okay, what do I need to do? I find out that I’ll need to go to a DVLA office and they can verify the passport there.

On Monday morning, I went to the Edinburgh DVLA. The Edinburgh DVLA is on the periphery of the city in a business park…far away from everything. I went in, filled out the form again since my address has changed since the last attempt, and went to speak with the clerk.

“Yes, yes, here are all the documents.”
“Oh, but we can’t verify your documents here, we have to send them to England.”
“But, but, I was told…”
“No, we just don’t do it here.”
“Uurgh! Okay, alright, how long will you hold my passport?”
“Well, it’s supposed to be fifteen days—but sometimes it can take two months.”
“Huh?”
“Oh and you’ll need to give us a pre-stamped registered mail envelope or we’ll just send your passport regular first class.”
“Where can I get that?”
“There is no post office out here; you’ll have to go back into town.”
“Okay, forget it; I have to go to a meeting and don’t have time for this today!”

I would have been upset; but the whole situation is becoming so ludicrous, that I find it silly. I can’t wait to see what happens after I actually apply and try to take the tests!

The easiest thing so far was obtaining my National Insurance Number; I have a job and they want me to pay taxes.

With time and without

I went up to Glasgow and Edinburgh for the weekend and a seminar yesterday on advertising law in the UK (which sounds dry but there were some great examples of ad campaigns gone terribly awry).
It was good to meet with friends and catch up on the latest; it was also good to go shopping for vegetables (I have a bog standard Somerfield here and am not especially enamoured of their selection). I must admit—I miss the city. I grew up in the country and feel at home here; however, with this new-found aversion to car ownership, country life is going to be rather cumbersome. Scotland has excellent public transportation links—in the Central Belt and to and from the Central Belt. I am down in the Borders. It took me seven hours to get the 105 miles from Edinburgh to Newton Stewart (3.5 hours of that were just sitting around waiting for the next form of transportation). The last bit, a bus from Dumfries to Newton Stewart, is timed to depart from the Dumfries train station four minutes before the train I was on arrives. So I had to wait two hours for the next one. I had to take two days of travel to go to an afternoon seminar in the City; not especially effective use of time.

But where is time? My watch battery died so I popped into a watchmaker’s shop on an Edinburgh back street to have it replaced. There was a man with a loupe in his eye sitting at a worn wooden table; as he worked on my watch and spoke of the various eras of watchmaking and the downfall of American ingenuity (regarding watches from the early and mid 20th Century), I looked about the shop. I realised, after fourteen and a half minutes, the time of the shop was stopped. I did not see anything in the place that looked like it had been made or altered after the early 1970’s. Also, since many of the machines and bits in the shop were unfamiliar to me, they could have been from any time. It was surreal. I was suddenly standing in a place all about the measurement of time—surrounded by clocks and watches—and could not make a reference to the present.

The watchmaker wore two beautiful old Omega watches; for some reason, the Greek Omega symbol on the watches also unnerved me. The whole experience was seriously bizarre. The watchmaker was pleasant enough and engaged in interesting conversation—but I was creeped out!

Flows

I walked out to the river this afternoon just as the tide was turning. The water flowed swiftly then began to slow till it seemed to stop altogether. Then, quickly, it began to flow in the opposite direction and cover the rocks and embankment. This symbolises something today; I’m not sure what, but it seems to mirror my thoughts and emotions.

Life from boxes

I have now been in Dumfries and Galloway for several weeks and am just today moving into my new digs (after a bit of looking and debating). My office is out in the middle of a forest…and I don’t have a car. So I need to be somewhere along the lines of a car-pool route (most people at work ride share); however, I also need to live somewhere near or in a town for all the necessary services of life and etc. I think I’ve found a good balance of all that right outside Newton Stewart; I’m staying what was once a stable but are now holiday lets and a restaurant. So I am in this cozy little two bedroom flat with wonderful views of surrounding hills and the river. Oh, and I now have ready access to the internet (this was the reason for my absence over the past few weeks). I’ve been staying in a farmhouse about 25 minutes from here with a co-worker, Isobel and her husband Robert; I’ll miss them and their sheepdog Tess who has to be the most gentle-eyed dog I’ve ever encountered.
I was thinking today, whilst loading the truck with my belongings, how many times I’ve moved since going away to university. Including the to and fro each year from school, it’s something like 25 times!

The job at Natural Power is brilliant; the people and place are most welcoming and I have a very positive outlook on what this job will become. I’m still getting my bearings as far as my role and contribution; but I think, after a couple months of clicking along, this is going to be a fine place to work.

My digital camera is deceased; however, I’ll try to get some pictures of my surroundings together somehow.