Bureaucracy Egyptian Style
In every ex-pat's life, there comes a day when s/he must pay a visit to the Mugam3a, the embodiment of pure, bureaucratic evil in Cairo. It is a imposing, Orwellian monstrosity in Midan Tahrir, where people go to get vias, report lost passports and generally get lost in endless hallways. Waiting. Getting bounced from window to window to window. Getting photo copies of passport pages. Buying little stamps to pay visa fees.
Since my non-touristic visa expired at the end of June, I was there to see if I could pull off the coup of renewing my visa. I started by inquiring at window 12, where I was told I need to go to window 28. Window 28 does not exist. So, I asked at window 27 and was told to go to window 40.
Unfortunately for me, the rather large woman perched behind window 40 (NON-ARAB FOREIGNER VISAS) seemed rather indignant at having to assist two Xawaggas in a row. She was not pleased by my request, especially since I had no documentation to show why I needed a non-tourist visa. She barked at me to get photocopies of my iqama (resident visa) and front page of my passport and then to come back. I did. Then she thrust a form at me. I filled it out and came back. Then I was told to go buy eight guineas in stamps. I padded down to window 32, bought my stamps and came back. Then she stuck the stamps on my form, stapled my photo (thank goodness I at least had those) to it and without even looking up said, "Four days."
Presumably, this means I have succeeded in...something. I'm not quite sure what I'll get, but I guess that's part of the fun of going to the Mugam3a. As long as I don't get booted out of the country, I guess it will be ok.
In other news, it's been just about three weeks since I officially started job hunting and I think I'm already starting to go insane. Having a boarder in the apartment doesn't help my mood, even if she is completely lovely and no trouble at all. I feel bad for Blake. I just applied to do a ten-day Vipassana meditation course in Northern Italy in two weeks, so we'll see if they still have space. Given that my one job prospect at the moment has been stalled thanks to the total blockade of Lebanon, I just feel like I need to get the hell out of here and clear my head for a few days. Ten days of complete silence ought to do the trick.
Since my non-touristic visa expired at the end of June, I was there to see if I could pull off the coup of renewing my visa. I started by inquiring at window 12, where I was told I need to go to window 28. Window 28 does not exist. So, I asked at window 27 and was told to go to window 40.
Unfortunately for me, the rather large woman perched behind window 40 (NON-ARAB FOREIGNER VISAS) seemed rather indignant at having to assist two Xawaggas in a row. She was not pleased by my request, especially since I had no documentation to show why I needed a non-tourist visa. She barked at me to get photocopies of my iqama (resident visa) and front page of my passport and then to come back. I did. Then she thrust a form at me. I filled it out and came back. Then I was told to go buy eight guineas in stamps. I padded down to window 32, bought my stamps and came back. Then she stuck the stamps on my form, stapled my photo (thank goodness I at least had those) to it and without even looking up said, "Four days."
Presumably, this means I have succeeded in...something. I'm not quite sure what I'll get, but I guess that's part of the fun of going to the Mugam3a. As long as I don't get booted out of the country, I guess it will be ok.
In other news, it's been just about three weeks since I officially started job hunting and I think I'm already starting to go insane. Having a boarder in the apartment doesn't help my mood, even if she is completely lovely and no trouble at all. I feel bad for Blake. I just applied to do a ten-day Vipassana meditation course in Northern Italy in two weeks, so we'll see if they still have space. Given that my one job prospect at the moment has been stalled thanks to the total blockade of Lebanon, I just feel like I need to get the hell out of here and clear my head for a few days. Ten days of complete silence ought to do the trick.
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