What is it with Australian Consular Officials? Are they required to do training in Rude & Obnoxious? Or did our Department of Foreign Affairs decide that Snooty and Unhelpful were the essential character traits of any budding diplomat?
I had to get a passport photocopy certified to accompany a Statutory Declaration for friends who are trying to get their de facto relationship recognised.
Got an email as I search around for an Aussie Justice of the Peace. There is a consular official in town! One day only! 9am to 3pm at the Sheraton.
I should clarify here that we have no Aussie Consulate here in Qatar. The Consulate comes very very occasionally. And in case you're thinking I'm being harsh, the ONLY reason they were here this time was that the Socceroos are in town to play Qatar. And no, I don't know the bloody results. But if they can't beat Qatar, god help them.
Get to the Sheraton. Lobby full of Socceroos. How do I know? Men in shorts and footy socks. The f%$# word repeated in dulcet Ocker tones which match my own. And no, I didn't get autographs. Soccer players do not fall into the categories of Australian citizens who are allowed to sign Stat Decs.
So I pop upstairs to find streams of chastened-looking Australians flowing out along the corridoor. When I get into the suite I see why. Consular Woman a complete bitch.
So I go to the exchange. And meet Young Indian Aussie changing currency. We commiserate. Clearly he's taking it personally. 'Nah, mate' I tell him. 'This is how Australian Consular Officials treat everyone.'
Back to Sheraton. Socceroos gone. Young Indian Aussie is now handing over massive wads of foreign currency. Yep, you guessed it. Dirhams.
Did you know that our consulates are now charging Aussie $29.84 for a single certified photocopy?
I sit down to wait. Next to another couple: she in burka, and he with the rather luxuriant beard sported by your average Orthodox Muslim.
Because why else would I be travelling to Asia except to run drugs?
All that bullshit Paul Keating talked about the region we were a part of? What a scumbag.
OM and I are now rocking with laughter, and CB has realised she's the butt of a joke. Wonderfully, she can't do anything because CB is an Arab woman. And in the face of a high status Arab male?
I leave feeling a little better. And I leave you with this wonderful poem written by Dylan Thomas in 1951:
Do not go gentle into that good night,
Old age should burn and rave at close of day;
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
Though wise men at their end know dark is right,
Because their words had forked no lightning they
Do not go gentle into that good night.
Good men, the last wave by, crying how bright
Their frail deeds might have danced in a green bay,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
Wild men who caught and sang the sun in flight,
And learn, too late, they grieved it on its way,
Do not go gentle into that good night.
Grave men, near death, who see with blinding sight
Blind eyes could blaze like meteors and be gay,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
And you, my father, there on the sad height,
Curse, bless me now with your fierce tears, I pray.
Do not go gentle into that good night.
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
So you see now. I am only practising for old age...
Much love,
Simone the Enraged... ...and Becalmed.
I had to get a passport photocopy certified to accompany a Statutory Declaration for friends who are trying to get their de facto relationship recognised.
Got an email as I search around for an Aussie Justice of the Peace. There is a consular official in town! One day only! 9am to 3pm at the Sheraton.
I should clarify here that we have no Aussie Consulate here in Qatar. The Consulate comes very very occasionally. And in case you're thinking I'm being harsh, the ONLY reason they were here this time was that the Socceroos are in town to play Qatar. And no, I don't know the bloody results. But if they can't beat Qatar, god help them.
Get to the Sheraton. Lobby full of Socceroos. How do I know? Men in shorts and footy socks. The f%$# word repeated in dulcet Ocker tones which match my own. And no, I didn't get autographs. Soccer players do not fall into the categories of Australian citizens who are allowed to sign Stat Decs.
So I pop upstairs to find streams of chastened-looking Australians flowing out along the corridoor. When I get into the suite I see why. Consular Woman a complete bitch.
Consular Bitch to one Young Indian Aussie: You DO know we CHARGE for this?Young Indian Aussie pulls out massive wads of cash. Qatari cash. Cause we happen to be in Qatar. With a consular official who is supposed to represent us as well as Australians in the Emirates.
CB: Oh no, we ONLY take Dirhams (Emirati currency). You'll have to go to a BANK!In fact I do go to a bank. The Qatar National Bank of which I am a customer. Bank cannot give me Emirati Dirhams. [Don't start with the Why Word now. I'm almost out of the bloody country and hanging onto my sanity is a top priority.]
So I go to the exchange. And meet Young Indian Aussie changing currency. We commiserate. Clearly he's taking it personally. 'Nah, mate' I tell him. 'This is how Australian Consular Officials treat everyone.'
Back to Sheraton. Socceroos gone. Young Indian Aussie is now handing over massive wads of foreign currency. Yep, you guessed it. Dirhams.
Did you know that our consulates are now charging Aussie $29.84 for a single certified photocopy?
I sit down to wait. Next to another couple: she in burka, and he with the rather luxuriant beard sported by your average Orthodox Muslim.
Me: Do you know you have to pay in Dirhams?
OM: Yes. This is our second time.
Me: Oh, I bow down to your superior experience! [Mock bowing motions]. You're Australian?OM is not only Australian, he is a pediatrician. Who has worked in country NSW for years. Where we desperately, desperately need medical specialists, but can't get them.
Me: 'I'm surprised they let you out of the country, you're so valuable.'
OM: 'Well I used to be. Now, when they see this...' OM points to his beard.
Me: 'Oh, of course! You're a terrorist pediatrician!'OM explains that there was a scratch across his passport. I explain that when I dropped mine in the snow so that it bubbled, and then lost it, the Consulate in German accused me of running drugs into Asia.
Because why else would I be travelling to Asia except to run drugs?
All that bullshit Paul Keating talked about the region we were a part of? What a scumbag.
OM and I are now rocking with laughter, and CB has realised she's the butt of a joke. Wonderfully, she can't do anything because CB is an Arab woman. And in the face of a high status Arab male?
I leave feeling a little better. And I leave you with this wonderful poem written by Dylan Thomas in 1951:
Do not go gentle into that good night,
Old age should burn and rave at close of day;
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
Though wise men at their end know dark is right,
Because their words had forked no lightning they
Do not go gentle into that good night.
Good men, the last wave by, crying how bright
Their frail deeds might have danced in a green bay,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
Wild men who caught and sang the sun in flight,
And learn, too late, they grieved it on its way,
Do not go gentle into that good night.
Grave men, near death, who see with blinding sight
Blind eyes could blaze like meteors and be gay,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
And you, my father, there on the sad height,
Curse, bless me now with your fierce tears, I pray.
Do not go gentle into that good night.
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
So you see now. I am only practising for old age...
Much love,
Simone the Enraged... ...and Becalmed.
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