piston10
December 30th, 2005, 07:04
A Trivial Tale
In preparation for my New Year visit to Thailand, on 19 December I made an application for a visa at the Thai Consular Office in London and was given a receipt on which were printed in bold capitals words to the effect "Your passport cannot be released without presentation of this receipt". Aware of how important this piece of paper was to me, when I got I home I put it somewhere very safe. The old story - so safe that when I wanted to collect the passport 10 days later I couldn't find it anywhere. I searched for 3 days and finally decided I'd better go back to Queen's Gate and see how I stood.
I was expecting the worst. Foreign consulates routinely make life difficult for anyone who who doesn't play exactly by the rules, smiles are rare, power is exercised on the few square feet of home territory, those who fail should be mightily inconvenienced. I was prepared to have to go through a long "due process", might be lucky to get my passport back before I wanted to travel in mid-January (after all, this was Thailand), and I even imagined I might eventually have to pay one of those "fees" for which you don't get a receipt. (Oh, yes, very well informed about the Thais, you see.) Still, I had to get things moving, so I collected up every scrap of identification I could think of and padded off to the Consular Office. The very large envelope contained my birth certificate, my previous passport, my driving licence, my credit card and an addressed invoice for it, utility bills to prove place of residence, air ticket, etc., etc. The only thing I could not provide was DNA evidence.
I approached the young lady at the visa collection window very diffidently and said I thought I was in trouble. I explained why and she asked me on what date I had made the application. She then reached down and came up with a passport that she opened. "This looks like you," and she told me my name. "Have you any identification?"
"I've brought everthing" I said with as light a tone as I dared. I tipped the contents of the envelope out and pushed it under the glass; she fell about laughing, bringing her neighbour into it with "Identification - the gentleman's brought EVERTHING!" They both found it highly amusing. She took a cursory glance at the birth certificate and pushed the material back to me. Slightly flustered, I started stuffing it back in the envelope very inexpertly. "No, no, you'll lose something even more important. Let me have it." She took it back, folded all the pieces of paper neatly, put them together and slipped them into the envelope and sealed it for my safety. I was irresistibly reminded of the Thai boys who fold and organise the clothes of a silly old farang who has chucked his gear higgledy-piggledy all over the bedroom. It really was a touch of "I-like-take-care-of-you" in a totally different context from the one most of us are used to! She then handed me the envelope and my passport and hoped that my visit to Thailand would be very enjoyable.
My main feeling on reaching the street was relief that I had retrieved my passport; but this was mixed with a tinge of shame at having given way so completely to negative and clich├йd thoughts that, five minutes ago, I would have argued were based on my knowing a bit about consulates, Thai bureaucracy and Thailand. Doubtless it was sensible to try and foresee the difficulties, but in my panic I had completely failed to "factor in", as they say these days, the whole range of possible human and sympathetic responses to what was, after all, only a minor matter. That was a genuine Thai smile, genuine charm, a genuine desire to be as helpful and kind as possible. I shall always keep my eyes open when in Thailand, but I'm hoping I shall be able to hang on to this good experience and "factor it in" as I go about meeting a new round of Thais in a couple of weeks time.[/u]
In preparation for my New Year visit to Thailand, on 19 December I made an application for a visa at the Thai Consular Office in London and was given a receipt on which were printed in bold capitals words to the effect "Your passport cannot be released without presentation of this receipt". Aware of how important this piece of paper was to me, when I got I home I put it somewhere very safe. The old story - so safe that when I wanted to collect the passport 10 days later I couldn't find it anywhere. I searched for 3 days and finally decided I'd better go back to Queen's Gate and see how I stood.
I was expecting the worst. Foreign consulates routinely make life difficult for anyone who who doesn't play exactly by the rules, smiles are rare, power is exercised on the few square feet of home territory, those who fail should be mightily inconvenienced. I was prepared to have to go through a long "due process", might be lucky to get my passport back before I wanted to travel in mid-January (after all, this was Thailand), and I even imagined I might eventually have to pay one of those "fees" for which you don't get a receipt. (Oh, yes, very well informed about the Thais, you see.) Still, I had to get things moving, so I collected up every scrap of identification I could think of and padded off to the Consular Office. The very large envelope contained my birth certificate, my previous passport, my driving licence, my credit card and an addressed invoice for it, utility bills to prove place of residence, air ticket, etc., etc. The only thing I could not provide was DNA evidence.
I approached the young lady at the visa collection window very diffidently and said I thought I was in trouble. I explained why and she asked me on what date I had made the application. She then reached down and came up with a passport that she opened. "This looks like you," and she told me my name. "Have you any identification?"
"I've brought everthing" I said with as light a tone as I dared. I tipped the contents of the envelope out and pushed it under the glass; she fell about laughing, bringing her neighbour into it with "Identification - the gentleman's brought EVERTHING!" They both found it highly amusing. She took a cursory glance at the birth certificate and pushed the material back to me. Slightly flustered, I started stuffing it back in the envelope very inexpertly. "No, no, you'll lose something even more important. Let me have it." She took it back, folded all the pieces of paper neatly, put them together and slipped them into the envelope and sealed it for my safety. I was irresistibly reminded of the Thai boys who fold and organise the clothes of a silly old farang who has chucked his gear higgledy-piggledy all over the bedroom. It really was a touch of "I-like-take-care-of-you" in a totally different context from the one most of us are used to! She then handed me the envelope and my passport and hoped that my visit to Thailand would be very enjoyable.
My main feeling on reaching the street was relief that I had retrieved my passport; but this was mixed with a tinge of shame at having given way so completely to negative and clich├йd thoughts that, five minutes ago, I would have argued were based on my knowing a bit about consulates, Thai bureaucracy and Thailand. Doubtless it was sensible to try and foresee the difficulties, but in my panic I had completely failed to "factor in", as they say these days, the whole range of possible human and sympathetic responses to what was, after all, only a minor matter. That was a genuine Thai smile, genuine charm, a genuine desire to be as helpful and kind as possible. I shall always keep my eyes open when in Thailand, but I'm hoping I shall be able to hang on to this good experience and "factor it in" as I go about meeting a new round of Thais in a couple of weeks time.[/u]