Well, there's no better way to gain some hard-earned lessons than by making huge mistakes, right? It just so happens that I'm really good at that. Making huge mistakes, I mean. In fact, over the years, it seems I have developed a skill for it that surpasses human ability. But, here's the thing:
When it comes to Malaysian Immigrations, there are "rules". They're not exact. They're not always the same. They are tricky. AND, they are mysterious. But, alas, fear not for you can discover them... eventually. That is, IF you make enough mistakes. Alternatively, you could read this blog. You know or talk to a foreigner who has managed to live in Malaysia for more than two years.
Ok, I've been here two years this trip. It'll be two years at the end of July. So, what's my secret?
TENACITY.
No, it's not a city where everyone plays tennis.
Seriously though. You must have brass balls to get through Immigrations these days. NOT that I do. I was thoroughly intimidated this trip. I mean thoroughly.
You know the drill: You show up at the little window, waiting behind two guys and watch the Immigrations officer behind the little window. (He's smiling!) Yes! Heck, he's practically enjoying himself stamping those guys passports so quickly.
Now it's my turn. The smile evaporates. Poof! Just like that. He's frowning now. Uh, oh. No! Don't turn your back! Don't... Too late. He's turned around and talking to someone else. I hate that. Back to me.
"Eskoos me, ma'am? You mus' follow me please."
I hate that, too. Off to the back room for the fifty questions. But, first, wait until the last person finishes her high-pitched rant and rave, begging for her visa. Ahyo.
Immigrations Officer: (first question, as usual) "What are you doing in Malaysia?"
It really doesn't matter what you tell her. It really doesn't matter how much money you're earning online and bringing into the Malaysian economy. So, don't even bother with that line of arguing. Sooner or later, she will say,
"You must have a 'proper visa'."
That's the buzz word that rings in my head over and over as I visualise the Grim Reaper standing over me with his curved thingy. (What is that, anyway? A parang? Or what? It's pretty sharp.)
Now, here again, I'll give you some advice. DON'T ask her what a proper visa is. Just accept the fact that the so-called visas you have been getting stamped into your passport (by who? Oh, yeah, by Immigrations) is, in fact not proper. It's just not... "proper".
She told me I had "abused my social pass". Now, I guess that means I haven't been smiling enough?
Ok, so next question.
"Why don't you go back to your own country?"
Me, "Um..."
"You keep going to Third World countries and then returning to Malaysia. You should go back to your own country."
(Gosh, I thought it was a free world. Have I ever been mistaken. But... did she just use the word "Third Word"? Aren't these the "Developing Nations" or something, now?)
I am told to wait. So I sit. Then a man comes out with a really sober face (unlike the jokers who were enjoying a good laugh behind the counter while I fought for my three months) and he says,
"I'm sorry ma'am but we have decided to refuse you entry into Malaysia. You must go back to Singapore. Is that ok?"
" Um, NO!", I'm thinking, but I say, "But, Officer, all my belongings are in Malaysia. I don't even have a change of clothes with me." (Singapore? Are you mad?)
He says, "Ok, well, we can give you one week to go back and pack up your belongings." He disappears and comes back. "We can give you two weeks. Is that alright?"
Me, (relieved) "Yes. Thank you."
Somehow, you come out of there feeling abused, accused, exposed, incriminated, humiliated and totally brow-beaten, yet GRATEFUL for only two weeks!
