So today was the day. The one crucial flash of daylight that would determine if this trip would survive or dive.
It was the day I would start applying for my visas.
The Pakistan embassy was first. A gated place with security guards surprisingly friendly and staff inside equally so. At first they said I’d need a Thai work permit and bank statements streaking back six months. That’d be tough. My mind instantly thought of other options, then his mate chirps in. “If you get a letter from your embassy saying it’s okay with them for me to visit then we might be able to do it.”
To the British Embassy I went. Having sat amongst the two rudest people I’ve ever encountered – both English, late twenties, old-school ravers, here for the pills I’d say – and five pairs of odd one out couples where he’s 65 and she’s 17 and local I finally saw a woman and then a man who agreed to draft some vague sort of acknowledgement that I am who I say I am and that they are aware of my trip. Actually I drafted it, they’re tying it, 35 quid thankyou very much.
That’llbe read next week. So Pakistan visa on ice but hopeful. India’s the same. I’ve found a local agency who can get the stamp in a week.
Iran’s the trickier one. I have to apply for a reference number online which I’ve jsut done. That takes 3 weeks and if I get that (only 94% of applicants do) I just have to take it to the local embassy for issue.
Still a long way to go but t’s looking hopeful. Once they’re done though I’ve got the small matter of getting Dot on the big bird to Nepal. Now that’s going to be the real shitfest.