Croatia - Dubrovnik

How to accidentally end up in jail in Croatia, though the problem was actually German.

How to end up in jail unexpectedly

A step-by-step guide in German bureaucratic logic

There are countries where you have to fear corruption, crime, or civil war. And then there is Germany – where an invitation to go sailing is enough to nearly land you in jail with an 18-year-old. Completely without a crime, just with a visa.

Level 1: Welcome to the land of "skilled worker" logic

The initial situation:

• We bring people into the country without papers, without education, and sometimes without names – the keyword being "skilled workers".

• But an 18-year-old, well-educated, blameless young woman with

  • years spent in Dubai,
  • an American high school diploma,
  • a full Kenyan passport with visas from all over the world

is, of course, highly suspicious. You never know whether she might secretly want to work in Europe or – even worse – steal our sunflower oil from the supermarket.

My wife's cousin, let's call her T., was simply supposed to go sailing with us in Croatia. A harmless holiday idea – in Germany, it is automatically a bureaucratic stress test.

Level 2: Visa? Only with comprehensive ruin for the host

You need a Schengen visa. An application alone is, of course, not enough. The usual program follows:

• Invitation from me: – Purpose: Sailing in Croatia, visiting family, getting to know Europe.

T. flies from Florida to the German mission in Miami, submits all documents. Result: No visa.

Reasoning:

"You need a declaration of commitment."

Sounds harmless, but it is the legal version of:

"Please sign here for your potential personal bankruptcy."

The declaration of commitment means:

• A German citizen is liable for up to 5 years

• for everything that could happen to the guest or be held against them:

  • Illness
  • Deportation
  • Prison costs
  • Other "constructible" costs

With one's entire assets. If someone becomes seriously ill, is taken into custody, or incurs other costs – tough luck. Life's work gone, house gone, everything gone.

No normal person would sign something like this. So, naturally, I signed it.

Level 3: "Why don't you mortgage your house?"

Appointment at the Foreigners' Registration Office. I show up as requested, but with a problem:

• I am self-employed,
• I have no pay slip,
• no audited annual financial statements yet (only self-employed for 1.5 years).

The reaction:

"Yes, that won't work. Then you'll just have to mortgage your house. Go get the land register extracts."

I ask politely:

"Wouldn't an account statement with a significant five-digit balance suffice?"

Answer:

"No. You could go blow that at the casino tomorrow."

True. An atomic bomb could just as well fall on the house – but that doesn't appear in any regulation, so it is irrelevant.

I ask if there is any other possibility to secure the demanded fantasy millions on paper.

There is one. Naturally, one that is even more absurd:

Level 4: 5,000-euro savings book – the symbolic safety dummy

The alternative:

A savings book in favor of the Foreigners' Registration Office, with a "security deposit": 5,000 euros.

This is:

• a lot of money for normal mortals,
• absolutely ridiculous in relation to the potential liability,
• but apparently magical in the world of the authorities.

Problems:

• Online bank? → "We don't do things like that."
• House bank? → "We don't do that either."

So off to the Sparkasse. There, after some begging and presumably only with a subliminal threat that I would stay there until they gave in, a savings book is opened. Naturally, only if one also signs up for other products. Nothing comes for free.

At the last minute we get:

• Savings book ✅
• Declaration of commitment ✅

Germany wouldn't be Germany if the matter were simple now.

Level 5: Digitization in Bureaucratic German: FedEx

One might think:

• A German authority has now created an official document.
• Another German authority (foreign mission) needs this document.
• So one sends it internally, digitally, or via official mail.

No.

"You have to send it yourself."

So:

• Declaration of commitment signed, stamped,
• not internally to the Federal Foreign Office,
• but sent by me via FedEx for $50 to Miami.

Bureaucratic communication in the year 202X: Mounted courier services with DHL emulation.

Level 6: Visa granted – but only on paper

The miracle happens: T. receives a 3-month visa.

Entry into Europe:

• Arrival: no problem.
• Entry stamp.
• Done.
• I thought.

Flight to Croatia, route:

• Leipzig → Vienna → Dubrovnik

In Leipzig:

• Check-in: no problem.
• Police and customs: no problem.

In Vienna:

• Visa checked again.
• Everything "fine".

In Dubrovnik:

"This is a D visa!"

Me: "And?"

Explanation:

• A D visa is, in principle, a national visa – intended for a single entry into the EU.
• Croatia is – surprise! – in practice not really arrived in the "functioning Schengen everyday life" (or at least not in the minds of those involved).

Summary of the logic:

• Croatia would like to let T. in.
• But: Vienna would not take her back afterwards.
• And whoever is not taken back is not allowed in.

Result:

• Entry into Croatia: forbidden,
• even though the visa is valid,
• even though EU soil has already been stepped on,
• even though all stamps are clean.

And that after:

• five office visits,
• declaration of commitment,
• savings book,
• FedEx,
• and one America-Europe hopping.

Nobody, absolutely nobody, said beforehand:

"By the way, with this visa, the practice is a bit tricky, especially if you still want to go to Croatia."

Level 7: 5 minutes to decide – then jail

The border officials' solution is:

"T. must return across the border immediately, so that she counts as not entered and, so to speak, has never been here."

We get 5 minutes to decide:

1. Either we all fly back together.
2. Or T. flies alone, and we stay in Dubrovnik.

Question:

• Do you let an 18-year-old, non-white woman travel back alone across Europe, with layovers, overnight stays, and entry and airport magic, just so she can sit somewhere alone for two weeks?

Or do you stay together as a family?

Naturally, we want to return together. Unfortunately, we need for:

• Charging phones,
• exchanging some money,
• final arrangements,
• saying goodbye –

6 minutes.

One minute too many.

The authorities' decision:

"The plane is full. No one is flying anymore today."

New selection:

1. We all stay the night in the cell.
2. Only T. stays the night in the cell, we go to the hotel.

Whoever is locked up themselves can do nothing anymore. So all that remains is:

• T. alone in jail,
• us in the hotel,
• with a feeling that is hard to describe.

T. is indeed detained – "Custody for security purposes", of course, completely legal.

Contact?

• Initially impossible.
• Only after massive pushing and threats of consequences does she get her phone handed to her.

Sailing holiday in Croatia? Instead: Prison visit light.

Level 8: Repatriation like a criminal

The return journey:

• They treat T. like a prisoner they don't want to show.
• She is virtually smuggled onto the plane "in the background".

My wife doesn't see her again until Vienna. Family vacation, European values edition.

Austrian Airlines (Spoiler: "This mess of a company will get its own article") uses the opportunity:

• For my wife and my son, tickets are re-calculated at a high price,
• even though valid return flights existed.
• The old tickets were, of course, resold. Double earnings – who says that only banks can calculate creatively?

Final image: Welcome to Europe

In the end, there is:

• A young woman who has committed no crime.
• A visa that was cleanly approved, with a guarantee, declaration of commitment, and all the bells and whistles.
• A family that followed all the rules.

And yet:

• a night in jail,
• humiliation,
• loss of money,
• destroyed vacation,
• and the clear signal:

"We don't trust you. No matter what documents you have."

As someone who does not come from Europe, you can only shake your head at that.

Maybe next time we will try it as a "skilled worker":

• Without papers,
• without proof,
• but with the right category on the form.

Then it might run like clockwork. Completely without a savings book, without FedEx, without a declaration of commitment – and certainly: without a cell in Dubrovnik.