Singa-Bloody-Pore!
Singa-Bloody-Pore!
or
If It’s Wednesday, Thursday, Friday, Saturday, Sunday, or Monday, it must be Singapore
or
My 165 Hour Layover
Let’s start at the beginning. Amy was invited to represent the Tribeca Film Institute at Docs By The Sea, a film conference in Bali. So we planned a two week vacation around it, though Amy would be working for the first part of it.
It’s the day before our long flight to Bali, and Amy is unable to check me in. Finding this strange, she calls Delta. Apparently, I can’t go to Bali because my passport expires within six months. Well, this is just a heck of a thing to find out THE DAY BEFORE WE LEAVE.
Amy is never daunted. We brainstorm to figure out a plan.
Our flight has a layover in Tokyo, arriving on Monday the 21st at around 2:30. Amy will continue on to Bali and I’ll stay in Tokyo to get an emergency passport at the American Embassy. We do research online. I go to the Embassy website to schedule an appointment. I click on the first available appointment: 9 AM on Tuesday the 22nd (or so I think). Amy postpones my connecting flights. I’ll now fly out of Tokyo Wednesday evening at around 6 PM and arrive in Singapore at 12:15 AM. After an overnight layover, I’ll fly to Bali Thursday morning at 6 AM. We find a cool hotel, Innsomnia, in the Agasaka neighborhood, near the embassy. My dear friend Morgan Fisher lives in Tokyo, so I contact him to let him know that I’ll unexpectedly have a day or two in Tokyo. Morgan is an amazing keyboardist who played with Mott the Hoople in their heyday. And also an amazing artist in his own right, and a fellow vintage keyboard enthusiast. I’m excited to hang out with him.
Everything goes smoothly on the trip to Tokyo. I check “Inn” to Innsomnia, chill out for a little bit, and Morgan meets me in the late afternoon. Morgan is a great host and is super helpful with hints about getting around town. We go to a vintage keyboard store that I’ve read about (Five-G), grab a quick bite and then check out “B eatopia” an excellent Beatles cover band at “Abbey Road” — you guessed it — a Beatles theme bar. Good times!
Tuesday morning: I look closely at the print out for my Embassy appointment, and I realize I accidentally booked it for THE FOLLOWING TUESDAY, August 29. I guess in my excitement, I just clicked on the first available Tuesday on the calendar, not noticing it was a week later. Now I’m a bundle of nerves as I head to the Embassy. What if they turn me away? But believe me, as you’ll see, this isn’t the most stressful thing to happen on this trip. I notice a bin for people without appointments and place my paperwork there. Luckily, they accept walk-ins. Phew. I scrunch down for my passport photo. The photo booth was not so accommodating for a 6’5” person, so I need to contort myself to fit in the frame. It took several tries, but eventually I find a photo that I like, though now I have extra passport photos (which will come in handy later).
I walk out of there with my new (temporary) passport and a full day ahead of me to explore Tokyo. I always like to wander aimlessly, and I see that near the hotel there’s a cool old shrine (Hie Shrine) and a Snoopy museum. And of course I have to visit Disk Union, the incredible record store that my record nerd friends have told me about (a floor for each genre!). On Tuesday night, I take the train out to Morgan’s neighborhood. He shows me around his studio, and we have a nice meal at one of his regular spots. He’s off to Russia for a music festival the next day. All in all, it was nice to have a few days in Tokyo. On Wednesday, I take the train to the airport for my next flight, to Singapore and then to Bali first thing in the morning.
AND NOW, LADIES AND GENTLEMEN, THE ADVENTURE BEGINS!
OK, so I board my flight, and everything goes well. I’ll be arriving a little after midnight. Will I need to go through customs? Amy emails me and says that I just need to go to a transfer desk. No worries! At the transfer desk, they tell me they don’t honor transfers to Jetstar (my airline for the Bali flight which also would work as a name for a K-Pop band). I will have to go through security and customs before checking in for my Jetstar flight. OK, sure. As long as I have time to make it to the enticing looking “nap” area of the terminal to catch some shut eye during my 5 hour layover before my early morning flight.
It’s midnight, so it’s not crowded. I make it through customs pretty quickly and I’m using the kiosk to check in. No luck. I go to the counter. They look at my passport and my flight info and the attendant goes over to her supervisor and they have a serious conversation. After a few minutes, the attendant returns, and informs me that I will also need a visa to travel to Bali. What? I text Amy. She says that’s not true, she didn’t need a visa, it must be a mistake. Why would you need a visa? Maybe the “Jetstar” employees don’t know any better. And, she noticed some “visa on arrival” signs at the airport, maybe that could work. I’m trying to get online via the free airport WiFi. “Error”. Trying again. “Error”. Arrggh! Am I paying for international data? Who cares? I’m googling this stuff on my phone, and I see nothing about American travelers needing a visa. I go back to the counter. The woman tells me that because I have an emergency passport (and only because of that), I also need a visa. A visa? Where do I get a visa? Is there a “Visas R Us” booth somewhere in this airport? I have a Visa card, will they accept that? “You’ll need to go to the Indonesian Embassy”. So it’s now around 1-something in the morning. I’m in a strange country at a strange airport. And I need to go to the Indonesian embassy to get a visa. Great. How the hell is that going to happen? I doubt they have a 24 hour drive-thru window. “Yes, I’ll have a Big Mac and a visa please.”
I sink into a chair and I realize that I’m totally stuck. I find the embassy on Google maps, and find a hotel nearby. Do I have international phone service? Who knows? It doesn’t matter, I have to call this hotel to see if they have a room. They do. I get in a cab and check in. I need to fill out a bunch of forms before heading to the embassy. The batteries on my laptop and my devices are dying. The electrical plugs in Singapore are different than Tokyo or Bali, so there’s no way to plug in. So it’s “Beat The Clock”, a race against dying batteries to fill out the forms that I need and send them to the front desk to be printed.
Thursday morning, just to be sure, I call the American embassy to explain my situation. They confirm that I definitely need a visa if I have an emergency passport. Thanks. So I’m off to the embassy. I get to there just as they’re opening, and there’s already a line outside just to get in. It’s also like 90 degrees. I wore one of my “nicer” shirts to look presentable, but I’m already sweating through it. I finally make it to the front of the line, and explain my situation but the woman at the door says that I need a print out of my return flight out of Indonesia. Just. To. Get. In. The. Door. I have it on my phone. “No, we need a printout.” Damn, I thought I was so well prepared, printing out all the necessary documents at the hotel just before all the batteries ran out. I get the impression that these people are paid to be unfriendly and unhelpful. They go through serious training at some sort of special institute for government workers: “Under no condition will you be helpful or friendly!”. She tells me there’s a shopping mall nearby and there’s a place that will print out my itinerary. A shopping mall. No more information than that. There’s a long line of people in back of me waiting to get into the embassy, so “please get out of the way, sir”. Off I got. To a shopping mall.
I pull up Google maps on my phone, and locate what looks like a shopping mall, about a 15 minute walk. Mind you, the embassy closes at noon, so now I have a time constraint. I love Google maps but I’m the king of walking the wrong way. Just call me “Wrong Way McGinty”. I look at the map and watch as my blue dot predictably starts going the opposite way, and then, as usual, an about face. I’m walking briskly, practically jogging. Sweating but determined to make it to the mall so I can get a printout of my ticket, goddamnit. The embassy closes at noon!
I get to the mall, they don’t open until 10. So I’m that guy hanging out in front of the mall, like back in South Jersey, though I’m not waiting to play Pac-Man at Space Port. I’m the first in the door when they open. I’m wondering where exactly in the mall might there be someone who will print out my ticket. The Hickory Farms? The Spencer Gifts? They weren’t there, actually, but I can’t be in a mall without assuming that they’ll have those stores. Seriously, who will print for me? I’m wandering around this strange mall in a daze (reminder: I’m still jet lagged and barely slept last night). I find a small “copy center” and rejoice, for this must be the place. No, they tell me, I need to go to the book store on the third floor. Of course, a book store, not an actual copy center that also develops film and makes copies. Obviously. Hmm. OK.
I ride the escalator of life to the book store, and indeed, for a small fee, they provide me with a printout. And I have to give myself credit for asking them to make a copy of my passport. Because they didn’t tell me I needed it at the embassy, and of course I did. Thank god! I can’t imagine what would’ve happened if I got turned away at the door again to make a SECOND trip to the mall.
Okay! Back to the embassy. I now have everything (I think). I’m sure it’ll just be a formality. Show them the goods and I’ll walk out of there with a visa. Right? There’s a DMV style “take a number” system. I’m number 24, they are now serving 19. Finally, after about an hour, I make it to the window, with all the appropriate materials. Oh, apparently I need a passport photo as well. Luckily I just happen to have some extras from Tokyo! The woman tells me that this type of visa needs to be approved by the main headquarters in Jakarta. There’s a turnaround time of about a week. A week? My heart sinks. Can I pay to expedite? No. But, I tell her, you must understand, my wife is there INVITED BY THE GOVERNMENT for a film conference and I’m supposed to join her! She will be gone in a week. The lady is unflinching. She gives me a form letter, tells me to fill it out with my pertinent information and email it to her. She will forward it to the proper authorities.
At this point, I really don’t know what to do. I’m stuck in Singapore while Amy is in Bali, and my visa may not get approved until after our vacation. Should I just go back to New York and consider this vacation an epic fail? I don’t really want to stay in Singapore by myself for like, an indefinite period of time. I have never been more depressed.
Amy reaches out to the directors of the festival. They construct a letter to email to the woman. I fill out my letter.
Amy recommends a hotel that she stayed at (the WANGZ), so I move there. It’s near a record store, she says. It’s actually quite nice, but I’m so depressed I just want to go to my room and cry. And sleep forever. Amy tells me to go back the next day! Be persistent! She has a point. After checking in, I find a burger place near the hotel and have a burger and a beer. I don’t know if I ever tasted a better burger. I fill out the form letter, and have the hotel print it out. And I also have them print out the letter from the director of the festival. I am exhausted and I pretty much crash out, still unsure of my fate.
I’m back at the embassy on Friday morning, with printouts of my visa request and the letter from the director of the festival. I think someone at the festival made a phone call. I go to the same woman, she takes the letters, and says she will see what she can do. She will email me with any news. She will never, ever break character, but she somehow seems more sympathetic, or maybe I’m imagining it. I go back to the hotel. At breakfast, I hear a familiar song and “Shazam” it. Turns out it’s a cover of “Way Back Into Love”, by an asian singer (whose name I know forget). It’s from “Music and Lyrics” and written by Adam Schlesinger. I text him and he tells me that it was oddly a hit in Asia. I wander around the neighborhood (Tiong Bahru) and discover a (very small) hipster area. I check out the record store, which surprisingly has a lot of metal and hardcore punk. I’m having an Acai bowl at the hipster smoothie place and at around 4:30, I get an email saying my visa is approved. I need to show up on Monday at 9 AM to submit my passport. Good news, but confusing. It says the visa can be picked up the next day. The next business day from today? Monday? Or Tuesday? Well, that’s just great. It’s Friday. I now have an unexpected weekend in Singa-bloody-pore.
However, now there’s an end in sight, and my attitude shifts a bit. I’m stuck here for the weekend, so I might as well explore. It’s a bit “Lost In Translation”, wandering around in a strange city by myself. I check the local listings and find a venue with some “electronica” bands playing. It was nice to see that there’s a local music scene. And I get some recommendations from Amy’s sister Marisol, a seasoned traveler, who’s spent some time there. On an epic walk on Sunday, I check out the Raffles hotel (where they invented the Singapore sling), Gardens By The Bay, Emerald Hill, The Singapore Flyer (an observation wheel like the London Eye) and the waterfront. I think I pretty much saw everything there is to see in Singapore, so “no need to go back”.
On Monday, I’m back at the embassy (do they have a frequent customer card that they can punch?). I submit my passport, she tells me the visa will be ready later that day and to come back between 3 and 5. But the receipt says it will be ready in two working days. More confusion. I can only hope for the best. I guess I still have a hard time believing I will ever leave Singapore.
Well, I return to the embassy during the 3–5 pickup time, and miracle of miracles, they have a visa for me. I catch the 9 PM flight to Bali, arrive at 11:45 PM and can finally start my vacation with my wife. After my 165 hour layover.
At the end of the hike to the Tegenungan waterfall, near Ubud:
