A fellow applicant waiting nearby had all the same paperwork, same agent, same everything as far as we could see. But, he was turned down, for no stated reason. He was told he could leave the country, and try re-applying from abraod. The only difference I could see between him and me, was he was tattoo-covered, bald, huge, and possibly a bit scary-looking.

At one point the agent came in, mistook things, and asked me to wait outside. The official said no, she will sit here, and the agent went away. The official looked annoyed. He looked at me. I said – in his language, badly, but in his language – “You say, I do. You, not him”. This actually raised a hint of a smile. Also, both coming in and going out, I did the “wai” (prayer gesture that signals respectful greeting). I think he liked that too. But, is that really the point?

This all seems rather arbitrary. That makes me even more nervous.

After all was well, for me anyway, the agent said he too got nervous, when he saw I had to go to this particular official. That is seldom the case, he said, and it’s never happened to me before. The agent, a very tough guy by any standards, actually shuddered when mentioning this official.

“This guy, you never know what he is going to do. Totally unpredictable.”

So, poor old Mr Tattoo Bodybuilder (with the manner of a sweet lamb, I promise you) has to try again, but he was calm and gracious about this. I’d have had a stomach ulcer by then, in his shoes. I feel like I’ve grown half an ulcer, as it was.

It’s not for the faint-hearted. I have another year. I will surely attempt to make the most of it.