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Monday, 3 June 2013

An hour later, the Iranian visa.


Kathmandu, four months earlier.

For the Iranian visa (especially outside the country), it is better - read mandatory for Canadians - through a specialized agency.

After having sent a detailed agency route, one receives the payment method. To send 30 euros each to a guy in Turkey, by Western Union. It's pretty simple, normally, unless you are in Nepal, where W.U. can only receive money!

And then it would seem that try to send money online through their website, using a credit card, to a guy with a name associated with terrorism, is lost in advance. Fortunately, some later refusal, my family was able to send (surely reluctantly, when mother really wants that his son and daughter-in-law go into Iran?) amount to the recipient.

A month later, we get finally the six digit code issued by the Iranian Foreign Ministry that allows us not to enter the country, but to make a visa application! This code is faxed to the Embassy that we have previously chosen (welcome to the 21st century).

As our plan at this point was to go to Iran since the India via Dubai, to prevent Pakistan (grave mistake, I know), the Embassy of Delhi seemed to be an informed choice:

«Best embassies issue a tourist visa one less in a week or two (if you have the right passport).» The worst (as Delhi in India), emit only as a visa for transit to non-Indian, and this, after you have waited weeks. "- Lonely Planet.

Are we forbidden first to enter the Iranian Embassy with bags without proposing any solution. NAD remains out on this rainy day.

I'm trying to get to the window of the counter – those who know the India know how it is difficult to reach the end of the queue, because nobody waits his turn. So, I play the elbow, exceeds, most rudely than otherwise, and reach the counter sweaty and not necessarily exultant: I ask the form application for a tourist visa, please.

He said that should be a code. I tell him I have an and turn to him. It takes, deposit without looking, and suddenly asks me to sit.

Whenever I go back to see it, he pretended to search through his papers, gaping eyes. I ask to see his superiors, or at least, someone with the seat of mental faculties. He points me my seat.

An hour later, I me tho once more the herd of old bearded and request simply forms insisting that the Ministry has already approved our requests.

"Sit!," barks.

An hour later, I go back, once more. In his eyes, I read clearly he finds irritating like a night at the flea. I think he understood that I do not give.

He hands me the leaves!

This is an application for visa without separate feature. It attached two photos each, including those of Nad hair covered.

Another battle to get to the counter, I face another refusal.

"-The background of the photo is rose" slightly, I specified.
"-It must be white.
(Imagine my front-end swollen vein here)
-Should I bring something else tomorrow, aside from some new pictures?
-No. »

Do you think that is happening, the next day arrived, an hour later?

It asks medical certificates!

I tend it leaves without saying anything, the universal language is often the most effective.

An hour later, I requitte the Chair now molded to my butt. The last event has arrived. Agent instructions are clear: pay the visa and bring back two photocopies of the receipt.

Must be first to get to a bank. There, a man takes my receipt and PIN (ten times) with another paper on which I specify with what banknotes (value and number) I pay the amount. The thing made in the utmost rigour, I change the counter. The second man (a look stupid) rack out all pins and rebroche everything in its own way. Once paid, I walk to find a photocopier.

Back, I proudly give two photocopies of payment to my dear visa officer and, eyes empty as that of a cow as sacred as it is, wonder: "why two photocopies?".

It looks like you go to Iran?

-Will

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