People in this part of the world all share a trait that I generally lack.

The day before yesterday I got up early and, by way of jeepney, FX, and bus, managed to find my way to the Immigration office near the walled city of Intramuros. I obediently fell into line and eventually discovered that there were Filipino bouncers waiting by the door enforcing the dress code. "No sandos, no shorts, no slippers," the nearby sign read. Denied, I curled my tail between my legs and was off to try my luck at the Indonesian embassy; I wanted 60day rather than the usual VOA of 30days. Upon arrival I discovered that I had to come back the following day between a narrow time bracket. Again, I sulked off. The rest of the day was wasted wandering around a mall. I appeared to work around 3, only to find the gates locked. I went home and fell asleep, miserable from a wasted day.

Yesterday I woke up VERY early by my holiday-ing standards. Off to the Indonesian embassy again. After a long wait, I discovered that I needed passport photos for my application. I ran to the Kodak store and quickly had 6 taken. Back at the embassy I waited while some angry Saudis argued with the official behind the bulletproof, mirrored glass. They left after a long while in a true huff. I was next. I have heard, have read, and have known of people who have successfully obtained a 60 day tourist visa. I wonder now if they were lying. As at the (useless) Indo. embassy in Brunei, this embassy could not, would not and should not ever issue a 60 day tourist visa. I was told to go back to Canada to pursue this issue further. I decided to ignore this advice. With my six unused photos i hustled off to the Immigration office near Intramuros. This time I was appropriately dressed and the bouncers waved me inside. A large crowd of people were gathered in 23 or so different queues. I queued appropriately and was ushered through the Visa extension line. That stage was easy, the other stages would prove more trying. A lot of waiting. A few coffees from the Starbucks outside. More waiting. finally progress, I paid the 2000p fee for an extra 38days, and was asked to come back at 5pm to pickup my passport. It was only midafternoon - what to do now? I hopped into a jeepney and eventually found myself in a mess of traffic. Baclaran was sooooo far away. By the time I actually arrived, I had to find an FX and went all the way back to the Immigration office. 4pm, another starbucks. 430, waiting in line. 4:45, frantically trying to get my passport before the 5pm closing time. 4:50, what about me? Everyone seemed to be getting theirs back, why not me?
4:55, uh-oh! 5pm! Shit!
Finally a loose rendition of my name was called out... As I left the huge, packed building, I was relieved. I had my id back. I was thrilled. I had a new stamp.