Travel Betty

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Recently I booked a trip to Egypt for 33 days. The problem? Tourist visas are only issued for 30. However, I’ve heard that you get a 15-day grace period for overstaying, but what kind of Travel Betty wants to put that to the test? Finding myself marking off days on the wall of a third-world prison is not my idea of a great trip-ender. Thinking I might be able to get a longer visa by going through the Egyptian Consulate in San Francisco, I give them a call. It is a Saturday, but I figure why not try. The conversation goes like this:

Consulate Official: Hello, Egyptian Consulate, may I take your order?
(okay, I made that up!)
Travel Betty (surprised anyone answered): Yes, hello. I have a question about Visas.
CO: Call back Saturday or Sunday between 9 and 3.
TB (looking at watch, which says 11:15am): 9 and 3?
CO: Yes.
TB: Saturday or Sunday?
CO: Yes.
TB: Okay, today is Saturday between 9 and 3.
CO: Yes, you need to call back.
TB: Um, I think we’re misunderstanding each other. You’re saying I need to call you back Saturday or Sunday between 9 and 3?
CO: Yes.
TB: Okay, then that is what I’m doing.
CO (as if speaking to a child): No, today is weekend. Tomorrow is weekend.
TB: Oh, okay, so you’re saying to call back Monday.
CO: No, Monday is a holiday. We are closed.
TB: Er, so Tuesday then?
CO: (exasperated) Yes!

I hang up not sure if I should laugh or get annoyed. I know the man on the other line has probably had his opinion reinforced about women being the lesser sex, so I decide to be annoyed about that. Then I laugh. This is exactly my expectation of the famed Egyptian bureaucracy, not quite as well-known as the pyramids, but probably right up there with the Sphinx.

Flash-forward a month. I have now confirmed that the Consulate in San Francisco will only issue 30-day visas. I have also searched message boards to learn that getting a 30-day visa at the airport in Cairo is a fairly straightforward process, but that the only way to get an extension is to experience Egyptian bureaucracy firsthand in Cairo at a place called the Mogamma. I don’t see that ending well.

In the meantime, Travel Boyfriend wonders if we should go to the Embassy in San Francisco just to get our 30-day visa out of the way (but in all honesty, also in hopes that they’ll forget their own policy and issue one for longer). Because this excursion means I get time off work, I acquiesce.

The Consulate is located in the upper-class residential neighborhood of Pacific Heights. Not at all what I expect. In fact, if you weren’t looking for it, you’d never know what lurks inside, which is: a hand-me-down couch apparently from a raucous fraternity house and a self-important bureaucrat who likes to amuse his multitude of friends with humorous stories in Arabic while flat out ignoring you.

After shambling around for a bit like nerds at a school dance, we hand over our passports and the pre-filled-out visa applications we printed from the Egyptian Consulate website. We are told these are not the right forms. The correct forms look slightly different in page design, but ask the same exact questions. We migrate our information while the bureaucrat continues to amuse his friends. Travel Boyfriend explains our want for an extension and he tells us that yes, in fact our visas will be good for 3 months. Wow, this is great news and makes our trip here worth it. He collects our $15 each and tells us to come back tomorrow at 2:30. Tomorrow? That means more time off work (yay!), but also more big fat hassle and feeling inferior to a bureaucrat (boo!). Oh well, at least we won’t have to visit the Mogamma.

The next day we come back and our same friend is delighting yet another man with elaborate stories. Oh, he is quite the raconteur. He graciously instructs us to have a seat and then carries on his conversation for no less than 10 minutes. We sit on the fetid couch pretending like we’ve got all kinds of important business to take care of between the two of us. Business that can only be taken care of while at a government embassy, yet not actually pertaining to any actual governmental matters. Finally, I throw my head back upon the couch, trying not to be too overly dramatic while still getting the point across. It works. He asks us to write down our names and then disappears to get our passports. Success. We are now the proud owners of two extended visas. But wait, if these are the extended visas, how come they say they’re only good for a month? “Of course,” he says, “we only issue 30-day visas.” Of course, indeed. Mogamma here we come.

Travel Betty Banter

Have you recently been the victim of the red tape runaround? Share your story in the comments section.