Passports stolen in Kazakhstan Swiss couple experience departure horror and are attacked on the jet
blue News editor Sven Ziegler and his girlfriend have their passports stolen in Kazakhstan. They run the gauntlet - and to make matters worse, they are attacked on the return flight.
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- blue News editor Sven Ziegler and his partner have their passports stolen in Kazakhstan.
- Then a true odyssey begins.
- Here Sven Ziegler tells his horror story.
After our passports were stolen in Kazakhstan, we had to wait. The embassies are closed for the weekend, so we can't get any further before Monday. We are stuck in the former capital Almaty and book into a hotel, knowing full well that we will have to stay here for a while longer.
Meanwhile, the rebooking procedure with Swiss begins. We are told that we will have to pay over 3,000 francs for the rebooking. That's out of the question for us. Over the next few days, I phone the airline again and again, but nothing can be done. I make a total of 14 calls, but the message remains the same: if I don't pay the 3,000 francs, I can't rebook.
On Monday morning, we finally contact the embassies. Both the German embassy and the Swiss representation are helpful and promise immediate support. But I was warned that it would take several days for the Swiss emergency passport to arrive in Almaty from the new capital Astana, 2000 kilometers away. "It will probably be Wednesday," says the diplomatic representative. My friend is luckier: Germany still has a representation in Almaty. She is allowed to collect her emergency passport from the German consulate around the corner on the same day.
Swiss representation in the office building
But not everything runs smoothly there either. Shortly before midday, the process is suddenly interrupted: "They told me it was lunch break and that I should come back in the afternoon," my friend tells me later. In the meantime, we can only laugh at the absurd situation we find ourselves in.
I also have to make an appearance at the Swiss representation. In an office building, the "Swiss Center" somewhere in Almaty, I am greeted by a friendly lady. Her main job is running a company, but she is also an honorary consul and helps Swiss citizens in need. She arranges for the emergency passport to be sent from Astana to Almaty. I am infinitely grateful.
But the hours in between are long. We want to go home, we have to work. We don't know how much longer it will be, how long we'll be stuck here. I celebrate my birthday in Kazakhstan on Tuesday. It's the only day without the authorities. What I don't yet realize is that Wednesday will be a gauntlet and a race against time.
We push ourselves forward to get home
On Wednesday morning, I receive the long-awaited news: the passport has arrived. I immediately drive to the agency, probably cheering a little too loudly. The staff turn around questioningly. But when we go to the migration police to pick up the exit stamp, we get a nasty surprise: we need a visa to leave the country, which takes time. We have to submit an application, the officer explains. Have our fingerprints taken - not here, of course, but in another building.
A small world collapses for us. The authorities notice this too. They promise us a fast-track procedure as soon as we have all the documents together. We leave immediately and rush to the fingerprint center. There is a handwritten list there. 70 people a day are processed, we are number 92. What's more, it's lunchtime, no chance today.
We sit down in front of the door, in front of everyone else. When the clerk in charge returns from lunch, my partner intercepts her and explains the situation. She invites us into her office and locks up. We are allowed to give our fingerprints and are immediately given a form. Then we rush back to the migration office.
But nothing happens there. A power cut brings everything to a standstill. We don't know whether we'll get our visa today. We remain seated. We wait endlessly. Two hours. Three hours. At 5.20 pm, the light suddenly comes on again. But the end of the day is approaching - and that is sacred in this Central Asian country.
But we are lucky: the official behind the visa counter actually stays longer because of us and processes our application. An hour after closing time, he hands us our visas. We cheer - and book flights for the next morning. Via Istanbul, no matter how, no matter where. The main thing is to get out of Kazakhstan.
Beatings and shouting at the end
When we sit on the plane at 5 a.m. the next morning, the relief is palpable. But we almost get involved in a fight.
As I open the overhead compartment, a laptop bag falls out - seconds later I'm punched. A woman shouts at me, asking what I'm doing throwing her laptop on the floor. I hold her down so that she doesn't hit me again. It takes her boyfriend to calm her down. There were no injuries or a damaged laptop.
And we get home safely. Four days too late - but full of gratitude.