February 17, 2014
How to obtain a Kazakhstan visa in Ankara: (Don't mention underwear)
On Monday morning I headed out early to once again seek the Kazakhstan embassy. I was helped slightly by the fact that the previous day I had moved location to a new couchsurfing host, a cheerful young woman named Merve, who lived marginally closer to the embassy. It was still a good couple of hours on foot though, but I found a route through 'Dickmen Valley,' a really wonderful park that was long and thin (it was in a valley!) and going the right way, so for a few kilometres I was away from the traffic and could actually relax and enjoy walking.
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I finally arrived at the embassy, a large one with big grounds which included a tennis court, at around half past nine and walked inside. There was a happy looking Kazakh man sitting behind a window. He looked, as in my experience I would say most Kazakh men do, like a cuddly little teddy bear. I told him that I would like to apply for a visa and he told me that it would take a week and that they would need to keep my passport. That was no good, I needed to have my passport back on Friday so that I could pick up my Uzbekistan visa. I was a little concerned, most of the research I had read suggested that this embassy usually produced visas in four days, although I guessed maybe it was getting more difficult because of the protests that were taking place in Kazakhstan on this day. What? You haven't heard about them? Seriously, Ukraine is nothing compared to this. If you haven't heard about the Kazakhstan protests, before we move on, you better have a read of this shocking article.
To quote the article, 'Production, import and sale of lace underwear will stop in July 2014.' 'Hmmm, I guess I know what I'll be smuggling into the country,' I thought, as I wrote my entry date on the application form as the 5th of July 2014. This form was a little more thorough than the other visa applications that I had submitted, and included the question 'How do you plan to enter the country - private vehicle, flight number, etc?' I hesitated for a minute and then wrote 'bicycle' but then when I was in the queue to return to the cuddly teddy bear with my completed form I panicked and crossed out 'bicycle' and wrote 'public transport' instead. Generally speaking the advice I had read was to not mention the bicycle when applying for visas, so I decided not to.
The cuddly bear took my application form and had a look through it, fidgeting uncomfortably (I think perhaps he was wearing lace underwear.) When he had first told me that it would take a week I had pleaded with him to do it by Friday as I would need my passport back. Now he looked at me and gave me a slip of paper to take to the bank to pay for the visa. "Thank you Christopher. Go to the bank and pay this money, come back with the receipt today, and your visa will be ready on Friday." He was smiling. He was a very nice cuddly bear indeed.
The bank was a short walk away in a big shopping mall (this was different from the information I had seen online, presumably they changed the bank that they use, so if you are looking to get this visa here, go to the big shopping mall, two floors down.) There were a lot of people waiting at the bank and I had to take a number and wait for it to be called. Almost everyone was using a bank card to obtain their number, and I saw that those with a bank card had priority over those without (i.e. me.) I watched as number 18 was called to go up to the counter, then number 19, then number 20. I checked the number that I had been given again. It was number 610. I guessed I was in for a long wait.
An hour later I was getting desperate as the embassy was closing at midday and I needed to get this payment receipt back there before it did. Growing increasingly annoyed and frustrated I finally leapt up to the counter and demanded to be seen, something I did not feel bad about on account of the fact that every other person now waiting had arrived some time after I had. The man did not speak English and told me to wait for the woman tending the next counter to deal with me. When she became free I moved over there as quickly as I could, still hoping I could make the midday deadline, and handed her the slip of paper that I had been given by the embassy with the payment details on and the 30 US dollars that were required. She asked me if I had a tax number, to which I replied that I did not. "Then I'm afraid we cannot process this here."
If looks could kill then I believe this woman would no longer be with us. She recoiled in her chair at the sight of the steam pouring from my ears and quickly found a solution, calling another woman over and I believe asking to use her tax number for the transaction. Whatever happened my payment was accepted and I was given the receipt which I hurried back to the embassy with, just in time. The Kazakh cuddly bear smiled once again and took it from me, along with my passport, and repeated that I should return on Friday. He asked why it was that I needed my passport back and I explained about the Uzbekistan visa. Then he surprised me by asking if I was travelling with a bicycle. He was such a nice man and I generally hate to lie anyway, so I instinctively said that I was. "Is that a problem?" I asked, worried.
There was a pause. He looked up at me slowly. Oh no. I had ruined it all, I wasn't going to be allowed to go to Kazakhstan. All because I had lied on my application form. Or not lied in real life. Or because he was on to my plan to smuggle in lace underwear. I was going red.
"No, its no problem at all, Christopher. See you on Friday" he smiled. Ah yes, such a nice cuddly bear indeed.
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