The Submission of the Visa Application – or how I nearly ‘submitted’ to it!

The plan was thought out well and in its early stages everything was fine as I caught an afternoon flight to Bangkok arriving minutes before Khamma who was flying from Ubon.
We checked into the excellent Courtyard Hotel in the city centre (thanks again to Clare for helping me out) and finalised the files ready for submission to the authorities the next day. They looked perfect, and I do not know what else we can do to make the application any better, should we fail.
To cap everything off we walked the short distance to the Erawan Shrine on Sukhumvit Road to make an offering and pray to Buddha for good luck. I have visited the Erawan Shrine several times whilst in Bangkok and on one occasion I was confronted by a burly farang because I was taking pictures of his young Thai girlfriend in the act of making an offering to Buddha. I gave him the benefit of the doubt (mainly because he was of a threatening disposition) but in my view anybody in a public place is fair game to be photographed whatever they are doing. I reflected on this incident as I lit a candle and nine incense sticks whilst following Khamma’s lead very closely. I placed the candle on the steps of the Shrine and silently said a short prayer which was more like a one way conversation to a stranger. As I placed my small garland of flowers on the hundreds of others that surrounded the Shrine I felt as though I had joined the mass of the hopefuls and had passed the matter into the spiritual hands of Buddha and the very realistic hands of the UK Visa Officer.
The next day we left the hotel feeling upbeat and travelled by taxi arriving at the heavy white gates outside the British Embassy. It didn’t feel right so we asked the security guard for further directions and he pointed down the street to another entrance. However it became evident very quickly that we were not in the right place at all and the clock was ticking fast towards our appointment time. We were not at the UK Visa Agency we were at that part of the Embassy where the applications not processed through the Internet were dealt with. Technology!!!!
At these times even the ‘die hard’ farang experiences the full force of frustration and exasperation with the Thai culture. I felt my control of the situation slipping away in a heady mixture of confusion and lack of understanding because I couldn’t speak Thai and nobody else could speak English. Normally my patience becomes extended as I allow for my inadequacy in not speaking the language, but this situation was important. No doubt the Thai officials wanted to help, the problem was they couldn’t help fast enough for this impatient farang. I had clearly let my guard down when the hotel concierge directed the taxi and now I was paying the price. Losing patience never goes down well, especially in Thailand, but we were quietly and quickly rescued by a well meaning tout working for a private visa agency who explained to another taxi driver exactly where we should be taken to. Twenty minutes later we were 400 metres down the street from the hotel where we had stayed the previous night.
It was just 10.30 as several well meaning individuals ushered us into an office and I sat down trying to gain composure by saying to myself we had at last arrived. An attractive young Thai lady, fluent in English, checked through our files paying particular attention to Khamma’s details. The only points she made were that I had stated she would be staying ‘with friends’ in the UK. Well yes she is and that response seemed to me the most appropriate from a choice of ‘with family, alone, Father Christmas?’! Also we had included the land registration document which states the land where the house is built belongs to Khamma’s mother. I was a little mystified about this because there was no attempt (or point) in stating anything else. The whole point is to be as transparent as possible and we had referred to this detail in the application letter. The young lady ticked a lot boxes on an official looking paper, but I was still curious that the office had an unfamiliar atmosphere, one in which I wouldn’t expect an important government department to be.
My assumption was right and again we were ushered this time to the second floor and the official office of the UK Visa Agency complete with airport style security. So what all the checking and ticking of boxes in the downstairs office was all about I do not know. But the confusion was still not vanished because I was now being asked by a reception type person who spoke limited English, to pay for the visa in an adjacent room that was proudly displayed as ‘Travel Agent’. Either that or go to the bank! This was not making any sense at all because I could see the place where we should be and everybody was telling us to go somewhere else and do different things. The visa costs the equivalent of GBP60 and I wasn’t letting go of that amount of cash without knowing exactly where it was going. This time Khamma came to the rescue and told me everything was ok and to just do it. I did.
She then disappeared through security with the application, the files and the receipt for the cash. I tried to calm down wondering how high my blood pressure had soared to. I expected a long wait because we had missed the appointment time by almost half an hour. However twenty minutes later Khamma re-appeared as calm and as serene as ever saying she had explained what had happened and they brought her to front of the queue.
Everything appeared to be all right and Khamma said she felt better about it than the previous time she applied. We are now waiting the regulatory 3 to 5 working days.
Eventually everything calmed down and I apologised to Khamma for being an uptight farang. Khamma reassured me with that awesome put down ‘Never mind Tirak, never mind’.
We caught a taxi to the bus station and waited for the next bus to Ubon which left at 2.30pm. At 2.00am (next day) we arrived at Owerrrouse in Thamuang. We had spent a morning in Bangkok where the plan almost fell apart and endured a twelve hour bus journey on a local Thai bus that stopped in every town along the way. I was pleased to go bed and sleep. What a day it had been!

The next day was glorious, but that’s another story.

If that big burly farang happens to be reading this, which I doubt, this is the picture that for some obscure reason you tried, in vain, to prevent me from taking. I hope you agree it does not invade the intimacy of your girlfriend's spiritual respite but instead leaves you wondering what her prayers are for and captures a brief moment of beauty isloated against the chaos of a back drop called Bangkok. I at least understand more about Thai culture and beliefs by reflecting on this picture whilst simultaneously concluding that in this particular instance at least, farang confrontational tactics also leave a long lasting impression on the Thai observer at Erawan! Let's all chill out!

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