Another Brick in the Wall

I was thinking of spending some time studying Chinese. I was thinking of buying some books in Beijing and starting now. I was thinking of one day coming to China for 6 months, and doing nothing but travelling aimlessly on a bicycle.

This morning, I rocked up at the Public Security Bureau (PSB) with the intent of obtaining a 5 day visa extension. Having stood in a que for 15 minutes, I was sent to another counter to pick up the visa application form. Mid-way through filling it out, the woman told me that I couldn't use a ball-point pen, but had to use a marker. For some strange reason, my black and white photo was accepted - despite the specification that it should have been shot against a blue background. But there was a problem - I needed a temporary residence registration form from the hotel. Oh, well - back to the other side of Beijing.

Upon getting back to the PSB I was told that the form needed to have the hotel's stamp upon it. I asked the woman if she could call the hotel and ask them to fax it. She told me I had to do it myself. So I did. Problem was, that nobody in the hotel had a sufficient level of English to understand what a "temporary residence registration" was and consequently had no idea what the hell I wanted. Back to the woman upstairs. She told me I could come back tomorrow. I asked how much the penalty for overstaying the visa was... 500RMB. With my sweetest smile I asked what the airport security would do if I rocked up with an overstayed visa and no money.

"They wouldn't let you leave."

But she got the hint and called the hotel. Fax came after 15 minutes.

Back to the que and the visa desk.

"Ok, you can pick up your new visa on Monday."

"Well, actually, I can't - I'm meant to be on a plane at 9:40 that morning."

"Oh... can I see your ticket?... Ok, photocopy the ticket and fill out this form."

She hands me the Reason for urgency request form.

I go to the photocopy centre. The matter is theoretically settled. Despite my outward composure, I'm sizzling beneath the surface. I suppose that little makes me angry, but the one thing that could drive me towards impulsive violence, is the helplessness felt in the face of power.