Maybe it`s the procrastinator in me, or the optimist that assumes everything will always work out… but in 4 days I have had two close calls with not being given visas to enter two different countries.
My first adventure began with the Indian Embassay. Even before leaving Canada (another vias experience I did at the last minute), I realized the visa I had been issued from Vancouver for India was going to expire in April, while I expect to be in India until May. But at the time I assumed once I get to india I will simply be able to extend it. Luckily, the Monday night beofre I left I was looking through my India travel guide and happened to read the visa portion and read that India doesn`t extend visas under any circumstance and a person must leave the country for two months before being issued another. Another girl in the house who had already visited India said oh yes, India is very strict. Hmmm. So the next day, Tuesday, I ventured to downtown Nairobi set to the High Commission of India. Along the way my brand new sandle broke… in downtown Nairobi. No biggy, after some slicing and dicing with my trusty Swiss Army knife, I got it to function enough so that I wasn`t walking around bare foot. But the fact that I was walking around downtown Nairobi with a sandle barely staying together may have been an indication of how the rest of my day might unfold.
Explaining my issue to the men at the front desk they sent me to the visa office and told me to queue up. Getting into the queue at the visa office was confusing enough, but a nice young Indian man explained it to me, saying it`s the indian way. There are rows of chairs and as each person goes up you move over a chair until you snake your way through to the front. I rather enjoyed getting to sit while having to wait in a ridiculously long line. After making it to the front I was told that I was in the wrong line and would have to talk to the guy in the office. After waiting more, I was met by a not so smily man who kept interrupting our conversation to answer the phone, in between which he told me there was nothing he could do. I would have to either leave India for two months once my visa expired and then go back or cancel my current visa, apply for a new one and wait. No problem except the fact it would not be ready until Tuesday and I was reading out to Dubai Friday. After the man repeatidly told me there was nothing he could do, my eyes started to well up and all I could say was `nothing... there is nothing...`Seeing that I was clearly upset, he said he would let me talk to his supervisor who would likely not be back for an hour, and this was already after closing hours. But I was desperate and waited again. Once again I was met by an even less smily man and the first unsmily man. This man did not really listen to what I had to say. Instead he lectured me on why I should not have applied for my visa so long ago, then about how I should have done this earlier and then about how inconsiderate I was for coming so late (even though I had been there since 2). After agreeing with everything he said and admitting my own fault of putting it off and not fully understanding how the system worked, I was once again told it was impossible. He said a few more lectures, and it was at this point that I couldn`t hold it back anymore and tears started coming down my cheek. I reached for passport, squeeked out thanks for seeing me and started to leave. `Wait, wait, wait`says the second unsmily man. After figuring out what time exactly I had to be out of Nairobi on Friday he agreed to ensure that it would be ready in time. Also telling me that I shouldn`t cry. As the other gentleman was helping me fill out my forms he asked why I didn`t just telephone to try and sort things out. I didn`t want to say because clearly coming in and crying helped me get my visa easier than if I had just cried over the phone. On my way home, two blocks from my apartment my sandle broke again. The sweet Indian watchman at the hotel nearby saw my struggle, came over fixed my sandle and even wired it up so I can continue to wear it. Oh, if all Indian men are this sweet I`m gonna be in for a treat. After having to bring in other documents the following few days I began to be known at the high commission. Luckily this meant no more lines as I was allowed to go right to the source JAnd as I was leaving the building Friday morning with Visa in hand the stern female security guard said with a smile, `finally you got it`.
Then it came to Dubai, Sharjah actually, to get my visa… I thought I had looked into the requirements and saw that I could purchase my visa upon arrival… but as I approached the immigration counter and handed over my passport, the woman looked at me and said where is your visa. Shit. Now what do I do! I was able to ask about a transit visa since I was only there for the weekend. I had to wait another 3 hours but they gave it to me! I got into Dubai at 2am to my posh hotel and went to bed... in my own room!
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