visa blues, part 2

I made another assault on the impregnable fortress of the Italian consulate today, and once again, was cruelly repulsed. Oddly enough, the very same woman I'd talked to before told me that the materials she'd asked for last time weren't what I needed at all. Student visa? No, no, you want a research visa. Come back in a week!

I stand in awe of the obstinacy and tenacity of the Italian bureaucrat. If the Romans had only thought, during the Second Punic War, to post a few of them at the foot of the Alps, they could have turned Hannibal away and saved a whole lot of trouble:

I'm sorry, signor Annibale, but unless you have the forms filled out in triplicate, I can't let you through. You don't know your grandmother's maiden name? Sorry, I can't issue you an invasion visa today: please, come back next month.

Now I just need to decide whether to take my elephants over the pass again, or try to work it out once I get to Rome. Decisions, decisions, I guess...