Otherwise known as ...

After hearing a number of postal horror stories from people during this last year in Italy, I had been quite preoccupied over the fate of my own passport after sending it off to London to have my Sudanese visa processed.

So, you can imagine the huge wave of relief I felt when I heard the buzzer ring late this afternoon. There, sure enough, was a rather harried looking courier asking me to sign. “Kate McIntosh?” He asked three times, while becoming increasingly impatient while I ducked inside to press the buzzer and open the gate. 

Inside the parcel I found my passport, a photocopied map of Khartoum and Sudan, as well as an introduction DVD. 

I flicked open my passport to find a rather simple pale green visa inside. It was mainly handwritten, with some official Arabic stamps and lettering. 

My Sudanese visa

I was slightly in awe at first. I never imagined I’d have a Sudanese visa in my passport after all. Looking at it I also started to feel the nervous flip-flop of butterflies in my stomach, which actually seemed more like elephants than butterflies. 

Having the visa inside my passport gave a sort of finality to my decision, as well as the sense that there was really no backing out now.

After inspecting the visa more closely, however, I noticed my handwritten name had been misspelt and instead read “Kate McInlash”. Well, I don’t suppose it will make a difference in the end and it certainly brought some levity to the situation...

Getting organised

My time in the countryside has come to an end and I've arrived back in Rome again. After rolling green hills and vineyards, the noise and rush of the city is still a bit of a shock. Getting up early and doing what needs to be done in a beautiful place – whether it be picking veggies, cleaning cobwebs, replanting carrot seedlings – gives you a sense of purpose…even if the task isn't particularly interesting or challenging.

Often I would get lost in my thoughts as I went about my different chores, analysing different scenarios while enjoying the sun on my back.

Being back in Rome again I felt a certain sense of aimlessness, but I'm also aware that if I'm going to take up the opportunity in Sudan I need to get myself organised.

I've written a ‘to do’ list – a habit I have acquired from my inspiringly organised Dutch friend Irene and which I find helps me focus on what really needs to be done. The only problem is I continue to add to it and I'm starting to feel like I'll never get to the end of it before I leave. 

There's certainly no shortage of things that need doing: a medical check, vaccinations, police check, some more conservative wardrobe additions. Also on the list is a bit of background research on Sudanese history and culture, as well as sourcing some English coursebooks and materials. 

But first up I decided to take the plunge and send my passport of London so my Sudanese visa can be processed.  Momentarily at least I have become more preoccupied with the task of sending my passport to another country rather than any of the doubts and questions that continue to swirl around inside my head about the logics of my decision to move to Sudan. 

While courier delivery is obviously the more secure option, after astronomical quotes of 50 euro-plus, I decided to risk it and send it with Poste Italiane. Now anyone in Italy knows the postal system here is not the most reliable, but money is tight and I didn’t really have a choice. 

I spent a fruitless 40mins waiting in line and another 10 more or so filling out useless forms at the local post office only to be told by a woman with a rather distracting hook nose that there was no envelopes left ...  because why on earth would a post office have ENVELOPES!! Her colleague soon joined the rather disjointed conversation and eventually I was told that sending my passport was not possible: end of story

I wandered out slightly dazed and annoyed with my wasted morning, when I spotted a small UPS agent across the street. In the end it was all so simple. I paid a 33 euro fee, filled out the address details and the efficient woman behind the counter sealed the envelope with a flourish and told me it would reach London the following day. This remains to be seen, of course.

Does a red light always mean stop?

It was my friend Irene who helped wake me up from my summer lethargy in Rome. After one year in Italy I felt like I had reached a sort of crossroads in my life, but I was barely able to make up my mind about what I wanted for dinner, nevermind anything longer-term. 

She suggested getting out of the city for awhile to breathe a bit and think about things. I also hoped being in the countryside in a beautiful peaceful place, with a bit of routine would also help put things in to perspective. 

Within a few days I had found a placement on two organic farms in the Italian countryside via Helpex – a website that helps place volunteer farm helpers with hosts around the world, in exchange for food and board. Given my tenuous financial situation and need for a bit of simplicity, I thought the concept was a good fit. 

A long dormant idea about volunteering abroad also came back into focus. I had previously been put off by the long application process and the fact that a lot of organisations seem to be dubious hidden agendas, often charging exorbitant fees for placements. I didn't like the idea of relatively well-off Westerners seeking personal gratification to help the poor and downtrodden.


During my own research I inadvertently stumbled across the website of the Sudan Volunteer Programme (SVP), which places teachers in Sudanese universities and secondary schools as a way of facilitating language and cultural exchange. Their website - while basic - contained a lot of no-nonsense, practical information and I immediately warmed to their approach and philosophy. 

Another appeal was that the organisation was well established and had been sending volunteers o the country since 1997. Unlike the aforementioned practice of charging high fees, SVP volunteers are required to cover their airfare and other pre-trip expenses, although accommodation and a small local stipend is provided. Once the idea was planted, all sorts of questions suddenly crowded my mind, the main one being - was I really up for Sudan?

After a couple of days pondering this point I followed the step-by-step instructions on their website and sent in my application. The next day I left to start my first placement on a farm in Montefalcione in the Avellino province near to Naples. There was sparse internet coverage at the farm, but I did manage to get online a few times to check my emails, but there was no response from SVP. 

Ten days later and still without any news I was settling into my second placement on a farm further north, near to Bologna. I decided to send a follow up email to SVP and rather surprisingly I received a same-day reply from the coordinator David in London. Apparently my application had been misplaced. 

We arranged to have a chat on Skype and one night after dinner (and a couple of glasses of wine) we managed to catch each other online at the same time. It was a rather informal chat, ranging from details about the programme, Jane Austen and my experience to date with Sudanese culture. 

What became apparent during the course of the conversation was that if I wanted to go to Sudan the opportunity was there for the taking. I felt slightly exhilarated and giddy at the prospect. 

A couple of days later David sent me a formal invitation. He had penciled in a tentative arrival date for October 15. This was at a time when riots were erupting across the Muslim world, as fury over what was considered a blasphemous film reached fever-pitch. The British and German embassies in Khartoum had also both been breached.

After putting it off, I finally checked Sudan's official status on the Australian Government website. Staring back at me from the screen - and highlighted in red - was DFAT’s uncompromising travel advisory, stating simply: “Do Not Travel”. 

I feel torn, on one hand I think it's my time to move forward and take up other challenges, but here in such an idyllic setting it's also hard to contemplate leaving Italy.