Bangkok, Oriental City

Luang Prabang is a pleasant, low-key town, but it seemed like everything is pretty packaged, so we rested for a few days, decided this was a good time to say goodbye to wonderful, wonderful Laos, and took the boat up the Mekong to the Thai border. It was a pretty trip but what was most unique was the indomitable Mekong itself, surging with great force around giant rocks, forming giant whirlpools in the wake, We were on the slow boat, but they also had speed boats taking people up and down, all wearing helmets and careening through the water at ear-blasting levels. Call it 'Scenery Light,' maybe. We had planned to cross the border on the second day of the boat trip, but by the time we pulled in town, the little ferries AND the border had closed, so we looked for hotels with a nice couple we met on the boat from Paris, Paul and Claire. 

Crossing into Thailand in the morning with $1 in Laos money to our name, we were profoundly struck not by culture shock, but the lack of it. Thailand was the most developed country we had been in since Korea. Paved roads with painted lines, parks with actual grass, and traffic lights EVERYWHERE. It was only then that we realized the extent of time we had been submersed in countries lacking this kind of infrastructure-- about four months and counting and we hadn't even really noticed it. Oh, and 7-eleven was also back.



We spent a couple of days in Chiang Mai, then took the overnight bus to Bangkok. It broke down on the outside of town, making us 3 hours late. After that, began 10 days of government formalities and visa hell in Bangkok we wouldn't wish on our worst enemies.

After our bus got in at 9am instead of 6, we had to change our plans and go directly to the Canadian embassy (not the hotel) to get the wheels in motion to add pages to Sarah's visa which had been filled up with all the stamps and visas we had gotten. Those wheels were to rotate slowly as the embassy required 3 weeks and, like, $100 to do it. The thing was, we still had to get visas for Pakistan and India within two weeks. Impossible. And we had absolutely no idea what we were going to do. Andy looked at Sarah's passport and said, "Hey, you think it's possible to pull out one of those old visas and free up a page?" Naw, we thought, they make those things a certain way for a reason -- no one should be able to tamper with Department of State identification. Surly, it must disentegrate or tear the passport page or something. Sarah looked at the 2nd Chinese Visa. She started to pull away the corner. It was coming away cleanly! She kept going. The rest was coming away cleanly. In two minutes, we thought we might have just saved ourselves 3 weeks!

Now there was just enough space to fit two more visas. We rushed to the Pakistan embassy (their online site didn't give any hours info or anything), by the time we got there in the sweltering heat of the day of the Bangkok concrete jungle, the time was over for submission, 12 noon. Dejected and sweating like crazy with all our gear, we walked through the disgusting concrete, dirty streets, past dozens of amputees and grotty hotels to finally find a descent one. And we were told by fellow travlers that this was the NICE section of town! In the meantime, Andy had gone to the Indian consulate to check on opening hours and get applications,etc.(they also didn't have any info on their site).

The next morning, we went back to the Pakistani embassy and were told that they didn't even issue visas to foreign nationals (like us). Only Thai people. On business. This was our only hope before Nasha and Kunal's wedding starting the 20th. They had to give us a visa. Besides, we had seen/talked to foreign nationals in line applying and recieving them. After pressing the 'nice' man, 'Mr. Shah,' who would be our 'friend' for the next 10 days, he said if we got a letter from Nasha's family faxed to their office, maybe they could do the exception and approve us. 

Since we were having problems with Pakistan, we decided to give India a shot while they were still open. We submitted everything easily and said we'd get it in 5 days. The best news, however, was that India didn't keep our passports during the processing, which meant we could still try to get our Pakistani visa in the meantime!

The next day, we were back at the Pakistani consulate. Nasha had turned around the letter quickly, and we brought it with us. Now, apparently, this document wasn't nearly enough. 'Mr. Shah' said Andy now needed to 'petition' the counselor (who he refused to name), and that it his decision alone to grant it or not. Now we had to 'build a case,' which of course he could have mentioned the day before but did not. Business Cards, Letters of Employment, Web site addresses, Bank statements, 'maybe even' Airline tickets. "Maybe? or for sure?" Andy asked. "It might help," he said. Even he didn't know. Great. Then he asked Andy about what he did and what kind of writing for business, etc... Making Andy wonder if it was indeed him who made the decision. Oh, and, Nasha's letter couldn't be a printout. It must be FAXED to their office which they had not yet received.

Andy rushed to a nearby computer place and printed out as much stuff as he could and Sarah gathered all her employment information. We still couldn't determine why they needed it, not that it was important except that it just made it harder to discern what else they might need (Since it seemed to be up to us to figure it out anyway). Andy even called Nasha to check on the fax and maybe give the embassy a buzz!

When we got to the counter two hours later, 'Mr. Shah' wasn't at the window. There was another, more amiable man, who made small talk, took our documents (and our money) and said to come back in the processing time -- 3 days. If there was any kind of problem, he would call us and he meticulously took our hotel info and phone number and doublechecked it. Maybe that was it, we thought. Maybe we only needed a new guy at the window! For the next three days, we waited optomistically.

When Friday came and we went to the window, we almost became sick when there behind it, was 'Mr. Shah.' Our visa had not been approved, he said as he handed back our money. The counselor now needed to see our Indian visa FIRST. When we got that in there, 'maybe.' 'Maybe?!!!' Are you sure you don't need anything else, anything at all, BECAUSE NOW WOULD BE A DAMN GOOD TIME!!!! Oh, and thanks for calling us and letting us know. We lost it then and aren't sure what our thoughts were as, dazed we walked back out into the sweltering Bangkok, traffic-clogged streets. We weren't supposed to get our Indian Visa until Monday. Tuesday was a holiday and we were hoping to leave town way before then and tour the south (we had already lost a week in Bangkok and at this point it still would've only given us a week to tour, but it was better than nothing). We thought that maybe if we could just see if we could get our Indian visa that Friday afternoon, maybe we could submit everything again to Pakistan and, with a rush, have them process it the next day before the Tuesday holdiay. Miraculously, The Indian consulate made us wait, but gave us our visa THAT afternoon. Armed with our Indian visa, we went through the weekend with hope and anticipation (and shopping at the ungodly huge weekend market) for Monday to submit it to the Pakistani embassy.

When Monday came, of course at the window, it was none other than 'Mr. Shah.' He took it and now said we would have to come back meet with the counselor and that we still may or may not be approved. "Come back in two hours at 11" he said. "Okay" we thought, resigned to the absurd, maniacal-ness we had been imprisoned with for over a week. We returned, disheveled and almost uncaring at this point as we waited to meet with the counselor, 'Mr. Abdja.' As we were waiting, 'Mr. Shah' mysteriously called us over to tell us that we were approved by the counselor. He was ready to take our money again when he said it still wouldn't be until Wednesday afternoon (two and a half more days) that we'd get it (which we still weren't sure of - given what we'd been through). Andy asked if please, we could meet with Mr. Abdja and ask him, considering our situation and coming back and forth five times over the last week, if he could ask them to turn it around that afternoon, and that we had booked plans for travel. He said he would check with the counselor. After another hour, 'Mr. Shah' told Andy that we would, in fact, have to wait until Wednesday -- two and a half days for them to put a paper sticker in our passports. Andy was even starting to wonder if the counselor, Mr. Abdja existed. We never saw him or anyone talking to him. It seemed like 'Mr. Shah' never asked anyone anything. Most strangely, the nice employee, Raja, had originally said the counselor's name was Mr. Shah. Which is why we were confused, when the main man at the window finally told us his name, it was 'Mr. Shah' and that the counselor's name was 'Mr. Abdja,' a new name. No matter anyway at this point, at the end of the day, all we wanted was that stupid piece of paper.

Wednesday came, with as much trepidation as resignation. We approached the window. No 'Mr. Shah.' Instead, it was a nice Pakistani woman we hadn't seen before. She unceremoniously handed us our two passports which now had two new Pakistani visas in them. We couldn't believe it. There they were. "Now check it and make sure the dates are right," she said reassuringly. You've got to be kidding -- so helpful and nice -- 'Check the dates....'

We emerged from the ordeal not unscathed, but emerged we did, ecstatic to be able to attend in Pakistan and be with Nasha and Kunal and their families. In the week between, we will check out a little bit of southern Thailand, and maybe try to dive. On December 14th, we are scheduled to fly to Lahore then onto Karachi on the 18th. Stay tuned.



Thanks: to Nasha, her father and family, who helped immensely in contacting the Bangkok embassy from Pakistan.