Friday morning I woke up early, and jumped in the car to head down to the Home Affairs office to extend my visa.
Visitors from Canada do not need a visa for visits of up to 90 days, however, since I’m here until Christmas, I need an extension.
I had called the office the day before to make sure I was headed to the right place.
I checked my maps and made sure I was very clear about where to exit the highway, which streets were one-way streets, and roughly how I would find the right place.
My plan was to head downtown, find safe parking, get the visa extended, and be back in the office for 9am.
It was a good plan. Sadly, things did not work out that way. Likely because driving to downtown Joburg ain’t a really good idea. Ever.
I did manage to get right downtown on the M1, but missed my exit.
Here’s another quirky thing about South Africa. The street you are looking for may be called Rivonia Road. On all the maps, it’s called Rivonia. On the highway signs, it’s called Rivonia. But just as you get to what you think is the exit, it’s called Rivoniaweg. And in the split seconds you have to react to the tiny off-shoot, it’s hard to decide if Rivonia, and Rivoniaweg are the same thing.
I have since learned to ignore whatever suffix they add to the word. Rivonia = Rivoniaweg = Rivonialaan = Rivoniawhatever.
In this case, I was looking for Smit. The sign said Smitwesslkjsljd, or something equally ominous.
Being completely terrified of taking the wrong exit and ending up in Hillbrow (think Compton, Regent Park, Jane and Finch), I did not take Smit-whatsit.
After that, the M1 South goes over a big bridge, and you are screwed for a very long time, until you have a choice – get off on the Soweto exit and try to find a place to turn around, or get off on the Randburg exit and try to find a place to turn around. No contest. I’m definitely not going to Soweto on my own, having just narrowly avoided Hillbrow. I don’t know what the deal is with Randburg, but I do know it’s not Soweto.
So I figure out a series of highway interchanges and a couple of illegal right turns, make my way back to Smit, and end up on what I believe is the correct street for the office: Harrison.
I notice very quickly that I am the only white person driving around down here. I decide this is something to be concerned about.
I put on my best “Hell yes, I drive down here all the time, what’s it to you?” face.
I hide the map book under the seat.
I circle the block looking for “safe parking” – i.e. gates and guards and razor wire. Hmmmmm – not so much. There are a lot of very helpful looking parking bullies running around – but they keep pointing at spots on the street. I decide that there is probably no faster way to be robbed and murdered then to park my car on the street, have it stolen, and try to find a taxi. If you’ve been paying attention you know the following: there are no taxis; do not park your car on the street. I can only assume the last points – robbed and murdered – would be what happens to you if you do park your car on the street, then try to find a taxi.
I notice that out my right hand side is the office I need to go to. I can’t actually see a door. In fact, the place looks pretty run down. I have a bad feeling the door is actually in the small alley beside the office.
This is not turning out as I had hoped.
I circle the block one more time, hoping to have safe parking jump out at me.
I have almost made up in my mind that even if I do find safe parking, there is no way in hell I am actually getting out of the car, getting my purse, and walking into the alley to find the office.
I see a very nicely-dressed young man cross the street, and proceed to try all the doors on cars parked along the curb. (I am desperate to take a picture, but decide that a shiny camera is like a big “Come rob me” beacon.)
OK, that’s it – I’m out of here. Let them deport me, I am not getting my visa renewed here.
And then I make a slight error in judgement. Reasoning that if I just head west, I’m bound to hit a street to take me back to the highway, I pass under an overpass, and down a street that does not look like it goes anywhere I want to go.
This is very very very bad.
“This is not a good street” I say. “This is very very very bad.”
Wasting no time, I do the only thing I can – I make a u-turn. Now – this isn’t quite like I’m driving up the wrong street, I’ll make a nice neat u-turn at that stop light up there. This is more like – I’m driving on the Gardiner Expressway, and I’m not happy with where I’m going, so I’m just going to spin into oncoming traffic, hope they stop, and carry on my merry way.
Which I do, all the while wearing my “Hell yes I can make a u-turn here, what are you going to do about it” face.
I think it was the sheer audacity of the move that actually caused traffic to stop. Whatever it was, I got the hell out of there, found a street heading north, and somehow found the M1 north.
I was at my desk by 9am. I still have to figure out how to get the visa extended.
Visitors from Canada do not need a visa for visits of up to 90 days, however, since I’m here until Christmas, I need an extension.
I had called the office the day before to make sure I was headed to the right place.
I checked my maps and made sure I was very clear about where to exit the highway, which streets were one-way streets, and roughly how I would find the right place.
My plan was to head downtown, find safe parking, get the visa extended, and be back in the office for 9am.
It was a good plan. Sadly, things did not work out that way. Likely because driving to downtown Joburg ain’t a really good idea. Ever.
I did manage to get right downtown on the M1, but missed my exit.
Here’s another quirky thing about South Africa. The street you are looking for may be called Rivonia Road. On all the maps, it’s called Rivonia. On the highway signs, it’s called Rivonia. But just as you get to what you think is the exit, it’s called Rivoniaweg. And in the split seconds you have to react to the tiny off-shoot, it’s hard to decide if Rivonia, and Rivoniaweg are the same thing.
I have since learned to ignore whatever suffix they add to the word. Rivonia = Rivoniaweg = Rivonialaan = Rivoniawhatever.
In this case, I was looking for Smit. The sign said Smitwesslkjsljd, or something equally ominous.
Being completely terrified of taking the wrong exit and ending up in Hillbrow (think Compton, Regent Park, Jane and Finch), I did not take Smit-whatsit.
After that, the M1 South goes over a big bridge, and you are screwed for a very long time, until you have a choice – get off on the Soweto exit and try to find a place to turn around, or get off on the Randburg exit and try to find a place to turn around. No contest. I’m definitely not going to Soweto on my own, having just narrowly avoided Hillbrow. I don’t know what the deal is with Randburg, but I do know it’s not Soweto.
So I figure out a series of highway interchanges and a couple of illegal right turns, make my way back to Smit, and end up on what I believe is the correct street for the office: Harrison.
I notice very quickly that I am the only white person driving around down here. I decide this is something to be concerned about.
I put on my best “Hell yes, I drive down here all the time, what’s it to you?” face.
I hide the map book under the seat.
I circle the block looking for “safe parking” – i.e. gates and guards and razor wire. Hmmmmm – not so much. There are a lot of very helpful looking parking bullies running around – but they keep pointing at spots on the street. I decide that there is probably no faster way to be robbed and murdered then to park my car on the street, have it stolen, and try to find a taxi. If you’ve been paying attention you know the following: there are no taxis; do not park your car on the street. I can only assume the last points – robbed and murdered – would be what happens to you if you do park your car on the street, then try to find a taxi.
I notice that out my right hand side is the office I need to go to. I can’t actually see a door. In fact, the place looks pretty run down. I have a bad feeling the door is actually in the small alley beside the office.
This is not turning out as I had hoped.
I circle the block one more time, hoping to have safe parking jump out at me.
I have almost made up in my mind that even if I do find safe parking, there is no way in hell I am actually getting out of the car, getting my purse, and walking into the alley to find the office.
I see a very nicely-dressed young man cross the street, and proceed to try all the doors on cars parked along the curb. (I am desperate to take a picture, but decide that a shiny camera is like a big “Come rob me” beacon.)
OK, that’s it – I’m out of here. Let them deport me, I am not getting my visa renewed here.
And then I make a slight error in judgement. Reasoning that if I just head west, I’m bound to hit a street to take me back to the highway, I pass under an overpass, and down a street that does not look like it goes anywhere I want to go.
This is very very very bad.
“This is not a good street” I say. “This is very very very bad.”
Wasting no time, I do the only thing I can – I make a u-turn. Now – this isn’t quite like I’m driving up the wrong street, I’ll make a nice neat u-turn at that stop light up there. This is more like – I’m driving on the Gardiner Expressway, and I’m not happy with where I’m going, so I’m just going to spin into oncoming traffic, hope they stop, and carry on my merry way.
Which I do, all the while wearing my “Hell yes I can make a u-turn here, what are you going to do about it” face.
I think it was the sheer audacity of the move that actually caused traffic to stop. Whatever it was, I got the hell out of there, found a street heading north, and somehow found the M1 north.
I was at my desk by 9am. I still have to figure out how to get the visa extended.
5 comments:
Maybe you should bail on the idea of an extension and just come home on day 89. That would be my call. Anyone have a different opinion?
Sounds good. eliz - always the idea person.
Just catching up on your blog (during working hours - shhh, don't tell anyone). It made me laugh out loud. Hope you're hanging in. Have you ventured inside the bottle store yet?
There are a couple of options. 1) Ask your company lawyers, they should be able to expedite the extension and really take care of it for you. Since to have a working visa is essential to your job, its your company's responsibility to assist you with that matter. 2) You can try to extend it in another country or city. So if you are going to London or say Cape Town maybe you can extend it there...cant think of anything else...Hire a bodyguard for two hours?
I'm still sticking with get the hell out of dodge!!
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