Yesterday, I visited the Afghan consulate in Amsterdam, together with Betsy. I hoped I would walk out quickly, carrying a coveted Afghan visa. A steal, at only 180 euros.
No such thing. I had to come back today, to pick up my passport.
Today, we left at 12:30 or so. Slightly late, considering the embassy closes at two, and indeed, it was a bad choice. Due to the many traffic jams, we only arrived at 14:15, but my reasonable charms convinced the lovely girls at the consulate to pass me my passport.
The visa is of the annoyingly simple kind. It’s a big stamp, which covers one full page of my passport. I was hoping for a beautiful sticker (they sure should be able to afford one, given the price I had to pay), but no such luck.
Well, that is, only one. On Sunday, Jim and I went over to de Kler, an old friend of mine. This fine-boy-turned-total-civilian recently fathered a child and it was time to visit ‘Lisa’. The best part was that de Kler knows his whiskies.