Just telling this story is humiliating because it, again, reveals my ineptitude at life in general.
First: I learned two years ago, when I got stranded in northeast Laos with no funds, that it pays to carry a couple hundred US dollars secreted away for emergencies. I did that this year. Except that, early in my trip, someone in Croatia--I forget who--insisted on dollars. So I ended up spending most of my secret stash before the trip really got started. (Why I didn't replenish my fund with euro's I can't explain).
When I got to Berat I had about 10,000 Leks, the Albanian currency; equivalent to about a hundred dollars US. I also had my ATM card and two credit cards. And, unlike Northeast Laos, there were several ATM's in Berat.
My first day here I tried to use an ATM. No luck. But I didn't worry since I'd taken out nearly $300 the day before. I figured I'd taken the daily maximum and things would straighten out the second day here.
On the second day the ATM's (I tried three) all rejected my card. Now I began to worry. But I still had my credit cards if something went really wrong. I wanted to call the bank but my phone (despite what a T-Mobile guy told me before I left) wouldn't function here.
Today, the third day, I went to a mobile phone company to get a SIM card. But even after the card was installed I couldn't use the phone. I needed badly to call the bank to get my ATM card reactivated. I knew that there had been three fraudulent transactions on my card and assumed the bank had temporarily suspended the card while investigating the false charges.
I went to a local bank for help. The banker said she couldn't do much for me but she did ferry me to a nearby convenience store that had an international phone in it--for a fee, or course.
I called the bank.
"Your account is cancelled and I can't reopen it," said the Wells Fargo lady. I asked if I could use my credit card to get a cash advance. She seemed to think I could, so I hung up and headed for another bank.
"Put your credit card in out ATM machine and enter your PIN," they told me.
I told them credit cards didn't have PIN's in the US. They were nonplussed at that. I tried this at three banks. All had the dame answer: no cash advances for your credit card.
Now I was very concerned.
I went back to the convenience store and called the bank back. The woman on the line was solicitous and said she'd try to help me. She put me on hold......for twenty minutes. With every minute my funds were evaporating at about two dollars/minute. Finally she came back and said...you must call back in two hours when our Executive Office opens at 6am, PST.
Dejectedly I hung up. I was down to my last $40 and worried that I couldn't afford another phone call like that one.
Ninety minutes later I returned to the shop. The lady shop owner, knowing that I had to scrounge my pockets for the last call, looked askance at me. Somewhat dubiously she allowed me to call again. This time I got the Executive Office quickly. I explained my dilemma. At first he didn't understand the depth of my problem, but finally I got through. He pondered, then suggested he could send me a Western Union wire transfer. How much would I need? I said five hundred dollars would probably get me back to New York in August. He agreed to send it to me. I rejoiced. He put me on hold.......for 25 minutes. As the minutes went by I kept glancing at the lady behind the counter, and at my wallet. I was fairly certain I wasn't going to be able to pay for the call, but I couldn't bring myself to hang up. I felt like, if only I could hang on for a little while longer this guy will save me.
Then he came back on....and told me he couldn't send the money. Western Union demanded to be able to call me before they'd authorize the funds. But they couldn't call me, this was just an outgoing phone. And how would I explain to this lady, who spoke only Albanian, that I wanted her phone number so my bank could call her. I went into major despair, and hung up. I poured through my pockets and found some loose American dollars, enough to fund the call, and leave me with 100 Leks (about one dollar). That was all the money I had left.
I owed about $70 at the hostel where I was staying. And there was the matter of eating. I was dead broke.
I trudged back in the direction of the hostel feeling defeated. Before I got all the way back I recollected a friendly banker I'd spoken to who offered to lend me cash. I skulked back to his bank and asked if he'd lend me his cellphone so I could make one more call to my bank. He agreed. I dialed the number and got back in touch with the guy I'd just spoken to.
"I'm glad you called," he told me. "I think I can get the $500 to you." My spirits brightened, but no completely. After all the previous near misses I didn't trust this ray of hope.
He put me on hold. For 15 minutes! I kept my head down, not wanting to make eye contact with my banker friend. I was afraid he'd make me hang up.
"I need my phone," I imagined him saying. And I couldn't blame him.
At one point my California banker came back on line.
"Mr. Heverly, are you still there?" he asked, then put me back on hold. I'd missed my opportunity.
"Hey, wait! I can't stay on hold here," I wanted to tell him. But he was gone.
Another five minutes passed.
Then he came back. He had the code number. With that number I could go to Western Union and collect my $500. I was saved.
Except I didn't believe it. I was certain something else would go wrong. And it did.
Western Union was closed. I trudged dejectedly back to the bank, where they explained to me that the Western Union office, like mos
t of Albania, closed in the heat of the afternoon. It would open in 40 minutes they told me.
So I plodded back to the office. And, sure enough, at 5pm the office opened. I was first in line. At first the lady behind the counter was encouraging. She showed me the yield I'd get in Euro's (404). I remained patient.
Then she began speaking, at length, to someone on the phone. He intonation told me all was not copacetic. This went on for ten minutes. Finally she gave me the phone. I heard another woman talking. I didn't understand all that she said, in her thick Albanian accent, but eventually I heard something intellligible: "(muffled)....problem. Can you come back tomorrow?"
And thus, here I am in the hostel, broke, but hopeful. Tomorrow will tell the tale.
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