Troublesome Visas

We think we know all about travel and are appalled when we find that we don’t. And I have less excuse than most, as I’ve travelled through countless countries over the last 20 years. But visas to visit those countries, though sometimes essential, can be troublesome.

Having just published a book on Myanmar, I intended returning to outline another, not covering the well-known haunts, but discovering places that the local people love and would like to show to eco-culturally-minded visitors. Sounds easy: and would have been, had I read the small print about Visa-on-Arrival.

Already this year, I’d had a visa incident with Immigration when I wished to stay overnight in my Myanmar friend’s village.

“You must have a Social Visa for that,” the Immigration Official in Pakokku, in central Myanmar, informed me: And he was nearly right.

Back to the present: I lined up at Air Asia’s LCCT terminal in Kuala Lumpur. I was excited to think I’d be back in my favourite country in just a few hours: And then ….

“Where is your letter from the Myanmar Embassy, written in their language?” asked the Air Asia young man with a choirboy’s face.

“I don’t have one,” I stammered. “But I’ve been to Myanmar many times over many years and I’m sure they’ll let me in.”

“I’m sorry Madam, but you have applied for Visa-on-Arrival,” said the choirboy whose smile was fading.

“That’s right,” I faltered. “I thought Visa-on-Arrival would be a time-saver - isn’t it?”

“No Madam”, said the choirboy through gritted teeth, “it is for business people. Without a letter from the Myanmar Embassy, Air Asia would be sued and they would cut my salary. Go to Counter 67 and they will help you,” he added to the relief of the queue mounting behind me.

I slunk off, rejected, and wondered how much money I’d lost. But Counter 67 turned out to be great.

“I can hold a place for you for a few days, then when you have your Tourist Visa come back here to Counter 67,” said the helpful official very slowly to make sure I understood. “The fee for changing your ticket is RM100.”

“Mum, don’t go to the Embassy before phoning first,” said my son, Alex. “It’s Friday afternoon, they may have closed already for the weekend.”

I chose McDonalds for my phone call: I needed an ice-cream to soothe my troubled mind. But McDonalds was seething with chattering crowds. I couldn’t hear the telephonist above the noise. But she didn’t fob me off – far from it: she told me to wait a minute and put me through to Nwe Ni Oo, Second Secretary at the Burmese Embassy, who was touchingly sympathetic.

“Could you come to the Visa Office straight away?” she asked.

Could I? Of course I could - and did - and the lovely Ms Nwe Ni Oo gave me my usual Tourist Visa.

Will I try for a Social Visa next time so that I can stay in friends’ houses rather than in hotels? Well I could if I was Myanmar born or had Myanmar relatives. But I was born in England and have English relatives so I don’t fall into those categories. But now that I think of it, what’s wrong with a Tourist Visa anyway?

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