From the Oman end.

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  Seeb, Oman
Saturday, January 17, 2009

Well, I've been here just over two weeks and I can honestly say it has been................interesting. I love waking up and opening the curtains to a clear sky every morning. I enjoy never having to wear a jumper. I can go for a swim every morning, walk on the beach every afternoon and eat outside every evening. The friendliness and good humor of the Omanis is infectious.


It has to be. Their love of beurocracy can be infuriating. On more than one occasion I have found myself smiling, walking out of whatever office I was visiting, going out to my car, rolling up the windows, and shouting at the top of my voice. Arguing would produce an understanding shrug, banging the table would prompt a kindly smile, and storming out would only get you to the back of the queue.


Maybe an example would help. Obtaining a Resident's Card. When reading this. please bear in mind the instructions I was given were "Have your fingerprints taken, then go next door and they'll issue your card". In reality.............


Arrive at the immigration centre and drive around for 20 minutes to find a parking space amongst the several thousand asylum seekers and migrant workers squatting in any available shade. Look for signs for the fingerprint office. Finding none, ask a policeman. Follow his instructions and end up standing in the wrong queue for 10 minutes. Follow the next set of instructions and end up in the correct office but another wrong queue. Apologise as best you can for ending up in the 'Ladies Only' line. Move along to the correct queue.


Wait 5 minutes. Arrive at the reception desk and present the paperwork issued by your employer. Discover you are missing one vital form and need to go to another building. Join another queue (quite a short one, thankfully) and obtain the required form. Return to the fingerprint office and rejoin the queue. Re-present your paperwork and get a numbered ticket for .............. another queue. Look at your ticket and discover there are 200 people ahead of you. Take a deep breath and hunker down for the long run.


Eventually, have your paperwork inspected, have your fingerprints scanned and get issued with another form. Take it to another office and.......join a queue. Get to the front, take another ticket and wait again. Only 96 people in front this time.


Take a break, go out to the car park and scream, punch or kick the car as appropriate. Re-fix smile and go back inside to wait.


Finally get into the Resident Card issuing office. All you paperwork is correct, your photographs are suitable, your fingerprints have been scanned, your visa is in order.


"How would you like to pay, Sir?"
"Pay?"
"Yes sir, 10 Rials please."
"Credit card?"
"No."
"Debit card?"
"No."
"Cash?"
"No."


Turns out the only payment they accept is a particular type of cash card issued by a local bank. Of which I have none. Take a deep breath, count to 20, paint on wide smile and say "I'll come back tomorrow".


To be fair, getting a Resident Card was probably the worst case. Bear in mind, though, this was only the culmination of various similar processes to get a resident visa, sponsorship letter from my employer, photographs of a suitable size and background, and an employee ID card, all of which were convoluted procedures involving lots of official stamps, assorted signatures and much pacing up and down outside obscure offices.


Thank goodness for the sun, the pool and the beach. And the cold beer in the club bar.

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