Today we’re at the ICA, Singapore’s immigration office. A nice time for blogging, since it so crazy.
The amount of people, floors, queues, counters and waiting rooms is immense. People in. Singapore queue so much, they abbreviate it to ‘Q’. At the moment of writing I’m having a hard time concentrating, because of all the buzzers that let people know the Q is advancing. I’m anxiously looking for the number 3651 to pop up. Can you imagine? It’s like Monty Python man, I half expect us staying here till X-mas, being sent from one counter to another, acquiring forms, stamps, documents and instructions. Isn’t this also described in Dante’s Inferno?
But not only the sheer amount of forementioned elements of burocracy is worrying. Hoi-Ying just explained me she got a queue number last time, which she needs now to pick up the thing she came here for. Which actually is a document stating that she studied here for 6 months. She was supposed to use her uni ID, but she got pickpocketed and lost it. But now we thus have two numbers. One of our current queue and one of last time she was here. I can not even imagine the consequences we we will suffer if we lose either one of both. I’m scared though.
Anyways, when we’re done in this hellhole of airconditioning, reminder sound notifications, people, counters, security, waiting, and again those fucking chimes (I GET IT ALREADY! NO. 4575 SHOULD GO TO COUNTER 412…), we’re going to check out some electonics at Funan shopping mall. And I also hope to buy a new messenger bag and belt. I definetely need something to match my flipflops (flipflops in the club!).
And I’m feeling real urban, blogging while walking down a busy MRT (metro, short forMass Rapid Transit) station.
[...] were a pretty bad preparation for the registration. I wrote about the immigrations office ICA before and this registration thing was the same hell all over. Go from one queue to a counter, where they [...]