(There is this Tamil play by Kathadi Ramamurthy (Ayya amma ammamma) in which the husband is forced to study for a promotion by his wife. Whenever they want to show that he is studying, they make him repeat - Indian Economy. Indian Economy. Indian Economy is the best economy. Because India doesnt have an economy. Cracks me up every time i think of it. Dont ask me why i just wrote that here).
Armed with lots of copies (the dude asked the hotel people to print stuff out for us and they did! Just like that!) and photos* which we got taken on the way to the embassy. The by-the-book guy had turned into going-out-of-his-way-to-help-you guy (except when he made us run around for xeroxes) and he pushed us to the front of the queue so we could submit our stuff right now and they could start working on it right now and give us a passport by 5 in the evening. Pretty awesome, no? Even if they charge you handsomely (actually, they charge you drop-dead-gorgeously), its great to see emergency procedures that actually work!
Off we went to the swiss embassy to ask for a Visa. Why? Because our return tickets were from Paris and we were in Rome and to get from Rome to Paris we needed a Visa but the Swiss people were the best bet for us since they were the ones who had given us our original Schenzen Visa. Whew.
We got down at the wrong bus stop and walked to the Swiss Embassy, which, at 12.20 in the afternoon, was done for the day. ##$$%^#&#!@. And then some.
We caught a bus back and then caught a train to get back to the hotel, had lunch, got a train, went to the Indian Embassy, where there were too many people being issued passports and everyone other than us was a Sardar and it made no sense but who cares WE HAD OUR PASSPORTS! We came out, danced a little dance, and caught a train to go see the Colosseum. Which shuts at 5 in the evening. Colosseum from the outside, Colosseum from the inside. Potaeto. Potaato. If you want to tell me its not the same, dont. I have it on the authority of the receptionist with the fine sense of humour that it is all the same. We walked around, saw the ruins from afar and got back to the hotel. Dude-made pasta for dinner**. It was awesome.
* Fun fact. The stolen purse also had the only comb we were carrying. So essentially, i was combless for 5 days. Passport photo? With uncombed hair. Visa photo? Why yes, with uncombed hair. Sadly, i dont think you can tell.
** I cut the vegetables, okay?
Armed with lots of copies (the dude asked the hotel people to print stuff out for us and they did! Just like that!) and photos* which we got taken on the way to the embassy. The by-the-book guy had turned into going-out-of-his-way-to-help-you guy (except when he made us run around for xeroxes) and he pushed us to the front of the queue so we could submit our stuff right now and they could start working on it right now and give us a passport by 5 in the evening. Pretty awesome, no? Even if they charge you handsomely (actually, they charge you drop-dead-gorgeously), its great to see emergency procedures that actually work!
Off we went to the swiss embassy to ask for a Visa. Why? Because our return tickets were from Paris and we were in Rome and to get from Rome to Paris we needed a Visa but the Swiss people were the best bet for us since they were the ones who had given us our original Schenzen Visa. Whew.
We got down at the wrong bus stop and walked to the Swiss Embassy, which, at 12.20 in the afternoon, was done for the day. ##$$%^#&#!@. And then some.
We caught a bus back and then caught a train to get back to the hotel, had lunch, got a train, went to the Indian Embassy, where there were too many people being issued passports and everyone other than us was a Sardar and it made no sense but who cares WE HAD OUR PASSPORTS! We came out, danced a little dance, and caught a train to go see the Colosseum. Which shuts at 5 in the evening. Colosseum from the outside, Colosseum from the inside. Potaeto. Potaato. If you want to tell me its not the same, dont. I have it on the authority of the receptionist with the fine sense of humour that it is all the same. We walked around, saw the ruins from afar and got back to the hotel. Dude-made pasta for dinner**. It was awesome.
* Fun fact. The stolen purse also had the only comb we were carrying. So essentially, i was combless for 5 days. Passport photo? With uncombed hair. Visa photo? Why yes, with uncombed hair. Sadly, i dont think you can tell.
** I cut the vegetables, okay?
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