By Petya Sabinova

Sometimes a lifetime is not enough to fully grasp the complexity of one person, let alone a country of eight million.

Trying to do it in a fortnight mainly through third-party accounts shows narrow-mindedness, lack of respect and severe framing - a trend in attitude that my country often faces. The very same attitude that Tom Walker showed Bulgarian in his article "Bulgar and Nasty" for the Spectator. The very same attitude that I faced when applying for a visa to the United Kingdom.

To make a long story short, I was in my second year of university studies in Madrid, Spain and the class was supposed to visit the BBC as part of the curriculum. During my two years of study I had been on a scholarship, both need and merit based, I had a clean record, two consecutive legally acquired residency cards, a bank account in a Spanish bank and a credit card from a Bulgarian one. Being from Bulgaria I was one of two students in the class who needed a visa for a visit to London, but no one expected it to be a problem, not with an invitation from the BBC, a two-way ticket and a hotel reservation already paid.

Well everybody was wrong, for the lady at the embassy refused to accept my documents a number of times, no matter how much more paperwork I brought her (including my grades for the past two years that she personally requested.) On top of that she accused me of being a prostitute on the mere account of owning a credit card, for in her eyes no Bulgarian with legal income was worthy of such high-class a plastic. Upon hearing my explanations that it was legit, she demanded to see all the transactions from the past three months, and all the transactions of my parents' bank accounts for the same period of time. Her only explanation - she had to see for herself that I wasn't prostituting for the money, because knowing English I was a potential illegal immigrant to the great Kingdom.

I am not ashamed to say that after each little session I came out of the embassy crying my eyes out. I was alone in a foreign country, where I had done my best to prove narrow-minded people wrong and I was already getting tired of fighting to show that I am worthy of a normal life, and that my lineage was not one of low-life criminals.

In the end I did visit London. Some people pulled some strings and one fine day a different lady, a much nicer one, came and took my documents, and had my visa ready in no time.

Now if I was quick in judgments this would have probably sufficed to say that Brits are this and that. Counting the times I went to that embassy, the hours spent in line, I probably gathered more than what author Tom Walker gathered in Bulgaria. And still I am not going to judge a whole nation for a few rotten individuals.

I admit I like Brits, I had fun in their country, even though I could hardly afford the few days spent there, I've went to some lengths to read their poetry and prose, to learn their language, watch their movies. Had I decided that I needed to leave the country with a sour taste in my mouth I would have paid more attention to all the bad things, instead of visiting a musical and admiring the beauties in London.

I guess what I am trying to say is that we, the nasty are not the inventors of soccer hooliganism, as everyone well knows, we did not start racketeering and gang-raping before anybody else and we are not the only ones with scores to settle. We are no different than any other nation on Earth, with our good and bad sides, with our ups and downs.

But there is one thing I, as a Bulgar have never done. I have never went anywhere in the world with the mindset that it would stink, and I had never chosen to follow the steps of a dead Mafioso instead of visiting a theatre for example.

And I would never sit at a table full of Brits and try to grasp their whole rich culture by questioning them about Jack the Ripper.

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