And the Heat Goes On

Well, to be perfectly frank, the Foreign Registration Office (FRO) have made it much easier
than it had been in previous times. It was a multiple-day colonoscopy with gardening tools. Now
it is just a lot of waiting in a multitude of different lines and dumping a
shitload of documentation in front of people who wonder what the fuck you’re
doing in their country. It has been 9 different lines, plus getting a bank
draft (out in the mid-day sun to get there).
I'm neither a mad dog, nor English.
Don’t let me forget the documents you need that are not on
the document checklist THEY provide you with. They look at you like “What is
wrong with you,” when you do not miraculously have them at your disposal. Then
returning at 5 p.m. if you’ve accomplished “the needful.”
This is a lot of bitching and griping, but the truth of the
matter is, they have every right and I begrudge them nothing. I’m their guest.
Their house. Their rules. Well, the arbitrary part pisses me off royally, but
the rules, per se, do not.
I lead an interesting life over here, so what the fuck.
There are plusses. Don’t make any mistakes about it. For
instance 1. Gorgeous girl from Uganda in stilettos and a grey pencil skirt -
thumbs up! 2. Korean girls. Full stop. 3. NRI shenanigans. Love that word – shenanigans. 4. Girl who looked Italian and smelled like jasmine. 5. Nice lunch. Always a plus. 6. Last but not least is
that I did not have to think a whole lot today. That, in and of itself, is rare
and joyous. Now I just need to go back, pick up the paperwork, take a richshaw
home (after arguing about the fare, of course) and take a cool shower and
relax.