Oh … What Will Become of Me? (Part 1)

It was a Thursday afternoon about 3 weeks ago. I remember it well.

 I received a call from the manager of my apartment building

“Hello? Mr Anthony?”

--“Yes.”

[Giggle] “It’s Anh.”

--“Sorry? Who is it?”

“It’s Anh.” [slightly nervous giggle]

[Anh is more common than Sharon so this doesn’t narrow it down.]

--“Anh?”,

 “Yes Anh from Lakeside Apartments.”

--“Hi Anh. What's up?”

“I’m just ringing to tell you that your [giggle] passport is washed.”

-- Washed?

“Yes [giggle] the cleaners found your passport in the washing machine.”

[These were uncomfortable empathy giggles:  this was not schadenfreude.]

-- “Oh no. How does it look? Is it ok?”

[Giggles] “No. Not OK. It is not good. Very bad. Sorry. We will leave it out for you.”

-- “Oh. Umm ... OK. Thanks.”

I remember that the default washing machine settings are a hot wash for 110 minutes. 

When I arrived home this is what I found.

The page on the left says "Do not stamp this page" in French. I wonder how clean it feels now. 

My work visa for Vietnam.

My departure card for Vietnam.

The following day I went to the Australian embassy with my still-slightly-wet passport in hand and sheepishly slipped it under the security glass with my Drivers' Licence and Medicare Card.

I needed an Emergency passport reissue to go on a work trip the coming Wednesday. They told me it could be reissued that day and recommended a place nearby I could get photos taken. 

Although this outlet was just around the corner, the humidity ensured I was sweating heavily on arrival (no little comments please). I was taken up two flights of stairs, seated next to a bride who was getting her make-up retouched, photographed, then shuffled to wait in another room full of people on computers. As it turned out, they seemed to be using Photoshop to retouch all mannner of customer memories: romantic couples, wedding photos, ugly children in yellow organza dresses. I even saw someone turning an ordinary Hanoi restaurant into al fresco dining over Niagara Falls.

Eventually my name was called out by a nearby the computer operators. I walked over to him and saw that my image was on the screen and he just wanted my nod before he pressed Print. In that moment, through a series of hand signals and gestures I never knew I had in me, I asked him to smooth out my skin, remove a blemish on my neck, suck in my cheeks and change the colour of my tie.

I walked back into the embassy, up to the passport counter and sucked in my face to match the new photo that I was now slipping under the security glass.  This was the new me. Not the pathetic potato me that shuffled in an hour ago with a laundered passport and an ugly pink tie. This was the Oprah Makeover me. 

Still me, of course ... Just a slightly better me.

At about 16:30 that day (Friday) I came in to pick up my Emergency Passport. When they handed it back to me they told me it was only valid for 7 months, that I need to apply for a Vietnam visa replacement in order to get out of the country, that the renewal would take 3-5 working days for the Vietnamese to process this (more due to next week's 2 public holidays), and that I need to get a full passport in the next month because most countries in Asia require at least 6 months validity on your passport to let you in. This full passport should be obtained when I get back home, at which point I would need to apply for another Vietnamese Visa to get me back in. If I want to get it done here I need my original birth certificate and blah blah blah.