To Get a Visa
17 December 2010
With one overnight train journey, Jean and I found Autumn after over six months of summer. We arrived in Hanoi in the early hours a few days ago to find the weather damp and oddly chilly.
Our objective for Hanoi was to acquire Chinese visas so we might visit Jean's wayward sister-in-law in Shanghai before packing it in for sunny Australia. We had a couple of days before we were due at our volunteer assignment at the nearby Friendship Village. The Chinese Embassy was a little less than an a mile from the old quarter of town, where we planned to stay. It sounded easy enough.
Wednesday
Leaving the train station at just past five and threading our way through taxi drivers we found ourselves very much alone in dark, down-town Hanoi. We soon entered the maze of currently quiet streets that make up the Old Quarter. After some time we found a hotel that was open and could have a room ready for us in half an hour. They'd even serve us breakfast while we waited. Jean checked her email and discovered she had a phone interview at 8 am. That would be in about an hour.
We got our room and Jean did her interview while I basked in the warmth of the hotel's wireless internet. Jean got off the phone an hour later thinking she had botched it. I bet her $5 that she got the job. After a mini-conference we decided that regardless we'd pursue the Chinese visas.
I showered and shaved. Embassies and border crossing are no places to show up looking like scruffy nerf herders. After we were both cleaned up and armed with a hotel map, we hit the pavement. The embassy proved a little difficult to find but we found it eventually. We arrived at the visa office door at 11:11. The shiny, bronze sign seemed to indicate that the office was open from 8-11 and 1:30-5. I guess they like to take a long lunch.
Jean and I tramped around for a while looking for some repast for ourselves. We gave the KFC a miss and went for this hole-in-the-wall place run by this little old lady.
"Soupee!" She shouted as we passed by.
A little hot soup on a cold day sounded good. The old lady seemed really excited to have us. We took seats on plastic chairs in the grimy, little establishment while she hurried about on those little arthritic knees bringing out utensils and plates. Jean hopped up and tried to explain that she was a vegetarian. The old lady nodded enthusiastically. A few minutes later we were served up two steaming bowls of noodle soup topped with shredded beef. She also set down a plate full of fried spring rolls.
It was great until the bill came and was about three times what we thought we expected. We'll stick to relative numbers because actual amounts would make me sound chintzy. It's the principle of overcharging foreigners that bothered me.
Protest was made in vain. Apparently "Soupeee" was the only English word she knew. We paid the bill and returned to the building we had previously investigated only to discover that it was not the embassy. Around the corner we found the visa office resolutely shut. Several people were milling around outside including one guy in a leather jacket who spoke a little English. He told that it was closed. Further probing as to what he and all these other people were doing out here resulted in nothing. He just pointed to the hours on the bronze sign, 8-11, and said, "tomorrow." Below, the sign also read "THU 2-5." I checked my watched and saw that it was Wednesday. Jean and I trudged back to the old quarter, defeated for the day.
Thursday
Bright and early in the morning we breakfasted and marched back over to the embassy again. The visa office was open and bustling. We pushed in through the moto-taxi drivers outside and found a shelf chock full of forms. There was a wide variety and unfortunately, all were in either Vietnamese or Chinese. The only official looking person in the room was a surly looking officer keeping tabs on the queue and guarding a doorway which I assumed led to the visa agents. A moto-taxi driver hanging half way in the door kept shouting, "Hello!" and gesturing toward the shelf of forms.
We left the visa office and hiked back to the old quarter. On the internet I'd read about a hostel/travel agency that supposedly handled Chinese visas.
Our author of the Hanoi section of our guidebook waxes poetically about strolling through the old quarter. I wonder what he or she was smoking. At mid-morning, the narrow, winding streets were a writhing mass of motorcycles, bicycles, cars, buses, dogs, pedallers and pedestrians. The paltry side-walk was taken up with motor bike parking, street stalls, cafes, and strange puddles. Navigation of these obstacles meant much hopping in and out of traffic.
After getting turned around several times, we found the hostel. Yes, they could get us Chinese visas. The price was exorbitant (both relatively and actually) but the real kicker was we could only get 30 day visas. Our Vietnamese visas are set to expire in early January and Meredith isn't finished at school until the 20th of January. We really needed about forty five days. I'd read that 30, 60, and 90 visas were all available for the same price. The travel agent suggested we try the embassy.
Jean and I went back to the hotel to probe the internet for more options. I quickly found an English version of the Chinese Visa application. I printed out several copies in the hotel lobby and ran them upstairs to Jean. We had just finished filling them out when the phone rang. Jean had got the job! After some exuberant dancing around our hotel room and the collection of my $5 we had a powwow. Talking out many scenarios we decided she would fly on to Australia from Vietnam in early January and I would go on to China.
At 1:30, I trekked over to the embassy by myself this time and found a bench across the street in the park to read my book. Two o'clock came and went. Looking up from my book occasionally I see groups form around door, read the sign, try the door, find it locked, wait for a while and then dissipate. By three a crowd had formed and then someone emerged from the visa office. I stowed my book and crossed the street to investigate.
I ran into the same guy in the leather jacket that I'd seen the day before. He told me the office was closed and I should come back tomorrow. I noticed that most of the people in the crowd had stacks of passports. I can only assume that the afternoons were reserved for travel agencies doing bulk applications. Defeated again, I made my way back to the hotel to find Jean still ecstatic. That evening we took in a show and had pizza to celebrate.
Friday
After breakfast I made the now familiar walk to the visa office. I hopped in line confidently. I had a completed visa application and two passport photos in hand. The guard tilted his head and gave me a quizzical look. He then waddled off and return with a half sheet of paper.
REGULATION ON VISA APPLICATION
For foreigner other than Vietnamese
1.Copies of passport information page and Vietnam visa which the validity must have at least one month counted from the date of application.
2.Presenting residence permit and introduction letter from the company where applicants work for.
3.Presenting insurance which is translated in Chinese.
4.Hotel reservation in which hotel address and name of the contact person must be written in Chinese.
5.The detailed schedule and itinerary of the trip.
6.Air ticket or other means of transportation.
I read through the list twice. It appeared to me that I was stuck in the gears of bureaucracy and I had no idea where to apply the grease. Sighing deeply I left the visa office with hope that it would be the last time and went to the hostel/travel agent.
The agent had forgotten me because she seemed quite surprised that I knew the cost of the visa and had the exact amount on hand. I passed her the cash, a photo and my passport. It could take four days. Yes, that would be fine. Jean and I would be engaged in the Friendship village for two weeks.
I took my receipt and walked out in the street feeling much at ease. Visa acquisition accomplished. This tourism business sure can be hard work.
With one overnight train journey, Jean and I found Autumn after over six months of summer. We arrived in Hanoi in the early hours a few days ago to find the weather damp and oddly chilly.
Our objective for Hanoi was to acquire Chinese visas so we might visit Jean's wayward sister-in-law in Shanghai before packing it in for sunny Australia. We had a couple of days before we were due at our volunteer assignment at the nearby Friendship Village. The Chinese Embassy was a little less than an a mile from the old quarter of town, where we planned to stay. It sounded easy enough.
WednesdayLeaving the train station at just past five and threading our way through taxi drivers we found ourselves very much alone in dark, down-town Hanoi. We soon entered the maze of currently quiet streets that make up the Old Quarter. After some time we found a hotel that was open and could have a room ready for us in half an hour. They'd even serve us breakfast while we waited. Jean checked her email and discovered she had a phone interview at 8 am. That would be in about an hour.
We got our room and Jean did her interview while I basked in the warmth of the hotel's wireless internet. Jean got off the phone an hour later thinking she had botched it. I bet her $5 that she got the job. After a mini-conference we decided that regardless we'd pursue the Chinese visas.
I showered and shaved. Embassies and border crossing are no places to show up looking like scruffy nerf herders. After we were both cleaned up and armed with a hotel map, we hit the pavement. The embassy proved a little difficult to find but we found it eventually. We arrived at the visa office door at 11:11. The shiny, bronze sign seemed to indicate that the office was open from 8-11 and 1:30-5. I guess they like to take a long lunch.
Jean and I tramped around for a while looking for some repast for ourselves. We gave the KFC a miss and went for this hole-in-the-wall place run by this little old lady.
"Soupee!" She shouted as we passed by.
A little hot soup on a cold day sounded good. The old lady seemed really excited to have us. We took seats on plastic chairs in the grimy, little establishment while she hurried about on those little arthritic knees bringing out utensils and plates. Jean hopped up and tried to explain that she was a vegetarian. The old lady nodded enthusiastically. A few minutes later we were served up two steaming bowls of noodle soup topped with shredded beef. She also set down a plate full of fried spring rolls.
It was great until the bill came and was about three times what we thought we expected. We'll stick to relative numbers because actual amounts would make me sound chintzy. It's the principle of overcharging foreigners that bothered me.
Protest was made in vain. Apparently "Soupeee" was the only English word she knew. We paid the bill and returned to the building we had previously investigated only to discover that it was not the embassy. Around the corner we found the visa office resolutely shut. Several people were milling around outside including one guy in a leather jacket who spoke a little English. He told that it was closed. Further probing as to what he and all these other people were doing out here resulted in nothing. He just pointed to the hours on the bronze sign, 8-11, and said, "tomorrow." Below, the sign also read "THU 2-5." I checked my watched and saw that it was Wednesday. Jean and I trudged back to the old quarter, defeated for the day.Thursday
Bright and early in the morning we breakfasted and marched back over to the embassy again. The visa office was open and bustling. We pushed in through the moto-taxi drivers outside and found a shelf chock full of forms. There was a wide variety and unfortunately, all were in either Vietnamese or Chinese. The only official looking person in the room was a surly looking officer keeping tabs on the queue and guarding a doorway which I assumed led to the visa agents. A moto-taxi driver hanging half way in the door kept shouting, "Hello!" and gesturing toward the shelf of forms.
We left the visa office and hiked back to the old quarter. On the internet I'd read about a hostel/travel agency that supposedly handled Chinese visas.
After getting turned around several times, we found the hostel. Yes, they could get us Chinese visas. The price was exorbitant (both relatively and actually) but the real kicker was we could only get 30 day visas. Our Vietnamese visas are set to expire in early January and Meredith isn't finished at school until the 20th of January. We really needed about forty five days. I'd read that 30, 60, and 90 visas were all available for the same price. The travel agent suggested we try the embassy.
Jean and I went back to the hotel to probe the internet for more options. I quickly found an English version of the Chinese Visa application. I printed out several copies in the hotel lobby and ran them upstairs to Jean. We had just finished filling them out when the phone rang. Jean had got the job! After some exuberant dancing around our hotel room and the collection of my $5 we had a powwow. Talking out many scenarios we decided she would fly on to Australia from Vietnam in early January and I would go on to China.
At 1:30, I trekked over to the embassy by myself this time and found a bench across the street in the park to read my book. Two o'clock came and went. Looking up from my book occasionally I see groups form around door, read the sign, try the door, find it locked, wait for a while and then dissipate. By three a crowd had formed and then someone emerged from the visa office. I stowed my book and crossed the street to investigate.
I ran into the same guy in the leather jacket that I'd seen the day before. He told me the office was closed and I should come back tomorrow. I noticed that most of the people in the crowd had stacks of passports. I can only assume that the afternoons were reserved for travel agencies doing bulk applications. Defeated again, I made my way back to the hotel to find Jean still ecstatic. That evening we took in a show and had pizza to celebrate.
Friday
After breakfast I made the now familiar walk to the visa office. I hopped in line confidently. I had a completed visa application and two passport photos in hand. The guard tilted his head and gave me a quizzical look. He then waddled off and return with a half sheet of paper.
REGULATION ON VISA APPLICATION
For foreigner other than Vietnamese
1.Copies of passport information page and Vietnam visa which the validity must have at least one month counted from the date of application.
2.Presenting residence permit and introduction letter from the company where applicants work for.
3.Presenting insurance which is translated in Chinese.
4.Hotel reservation in which hotel address and name of the contact person must be written in Chinese.
5.The detailed schedule and itinerary of the trip.
6.Air ticket or other means of transportation.
I read through the list twice. It appeared to me that I was stuck in the gears of bureaucracy and I had no idea where to apply the grease. Sighing deeply I left the visa office with hope that it would be the last time and went to the hostel/travel agent.
The agent had forgotten me because she seemed quite surprised that I knew the cost of the visa and had the exact amount on hand. I passed her the cash, a photo and my passport. It could take four days. Yes, that would be fine. Jean and I would be engaged in the Friendship village for two weeks.
I took my receipt and walked out in the street feeling much at ease. Visa acquisition accomplished. This tourism business sure can be hard work.
Comments
At least you knew about Jean's job before you paid for a visa for her?