And so, we return to the thrilling saga of my great migration from Vietnam to China. You may recall from the last entry that my U.S. passport was successfully submitted, a process that, to my immense disappointment, went off without a hitch. The passport returned in the prescribed amount of time, with no drama, no misplaced forms, and no last-minute denials. It was a victory, I suppose, but a bland one. I almost didn't write an update because, well, what's the point of a blog post if you can't complain about a soul-crushing bureaucratic ordeal?
But worry not. The universe, in its infinite wisdom, has provided.
Today, I began the process of applying for the Chinese 10-year visa. This is the unicorn, the holy grail of visas—the one that lets an American come and go for a full decade for the cost of a single trip. Naturally, an opportunity so glorious must be guarded by a digital labyrinth of madness. And let me tell you, I feel like I've just emerged from a minor trauma.
The application form itself is a masterclass in absurd questions. They ask for your father's information—his birthday, his name, his occupation. I haven't spoken to my father in years. We're not officially "estranged" in a dramatic, Hollywood way, but we are most certainly not close. And yet, this form demands an intimacy that doesn't exist. I can only assume they believe all families are as tightly-knit as they are in China, and it's simply inconceivable that a Western family could be so... disconnected.
Then, there are the contradictions. They demand that you upload flight tickets and proof of accommodation, despite the entire point of a 10-year visa being that you don’t need to plan your trips out to the minute. My grand plan is to take a train, for which there are no online tickets. So, I just had to upload a document explaining that. It's an application for a ten-year visa, and yet every question is focused on what I’m going to do in the next two weeks. Shouldn't they be more concerned with the fact that I'll be able to re-enter their country for an entire decade?
The payment process was the final, brilliant stroke of genius. The total for my visa was given as a single number that combined the Vietnamese Dong and the U.S. Dollars, without converting the currencies. It was a magnificent, meaningless string of digits that just… sat there. I have no idea how or when I'm supposed to pay.
And the application didn't even tell me what to do with my passport. It's still sitting here on my desk, like a useless artifact from a time when paperwork actually made sense. I guess I'll have to go to the embassy, get in line, and hope someone can tell me what to do.
So there you have it. The passport was a win, but the visa application was a stunning defeat. It's now "under review," and I'm just sitting here, waiting, wondering if they'll reject me for not knowing my father's birthday. This is the true reality of living abroad. And you thought the last blog post was good. Just you wait. I'll update you when I figure out how to get my passport into their hands.
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