After some investigation on the internet I had an address for the agency, 10 Leedon rd, and discovered that Leedon road was next to Holland Rd, a stop on the no.7 bus that goes by the end of the road the hostel is in. By the time i'd got passport photos taken (if you've got a few hours spare some time I'll tell you the story of what a palarver this was) and visited the ATM (cash, pause, more cash) it was about 11. Ihopped onto the next no.7 bus that stopped by and half an hour later I hopped off at Holland road (bus driver was so helpful) and set off down Leedon Rd, not believing it had been so easy. Well - will never again speak too soon! 10 Leedon Rd was a big block obscured by a security gate - it didn't look much like an embassy, but I checked the address jotted down and it was right. The booth with the sign "All visitors must sign in - all trespassers will be prosecuted" was empty. The main gate was locked, but the side gate was slightly open, so I went in. I wondered past the sign (checking for security cameras in a paranoid manner) and ventured into the main area - no sign of the embassy. I peered up a few stairways before lost the bottle and made my way back to the gate. S*#%, locked, I must have closed it behind me. Look round, shake gate, still locked. Look round, try to climb over gate, crap, skirt preventing upward leg movement. Turn, look at empty booth, couple of switches on wall - one reads "side gate". Look round, reach in and press button, gate buzzes, pick up bag and run at gate (I thought it was timed - ok?), gate slides open too easily and I go careening out onto road. It's fine, quiet road, no-one saw... except that old guy with the rubbish bin, staring my as though i'm an escapee from a loony asylum (with justification, to be honest). Little old man blinks. "Urm, is this the Embassy of Vietnam?" I ask. Old man wrinkles into a smile, revealing single tooth, and points up the road - "Leedon Park, Embassy 10 Leedon Park". Fantastic, just fantasic. Gathering the remaining shreds of my dignity and the items that have flown out of my bag, I carry on up the road. 15 minutes and several wrong turns later I'm at yellow-stone building with Vietnamese flags outside. This is more like it. It's locked - after chatting to a waiting cab driver (see - i learn from my mistakes!) I discover that it's closed between 12 and 2, and visa applications need to be made between 9 and 11.30am. Poo. Back up the road, past old man (who waves), and straight across the main road and into a shopping mall. Retail therapy.
After a few hours serious browsing I decide the day wasn't a complete write off - I managed to buy a cheap (well, cheapish) digital camera so that I can now take my own photos rather than stealing them from friends/other internet sights. I also bought some v. cheap trews to repace my aladdin pants (they look plane stoopid here) and resisted buying many things including a pair of crocs (latest shoe craze - and so dang comfy) and an excessively pricey cappuccino from starbucks.
I'm going to set my alarm for 8am tomorrow to make sure I get this ruddy visa sorted. Then I will visit Orchard Rd - otherwise known as shoppers paradise. Most notable shopping mall that has a ridiculous number of floors packed full of shops, boutiques, cafes and restaurants. Ngaire - you would totally love this place. There is at least 32 other big malls in this area. I'm going to have to leave the credit card in the locker methinks.
I think your mum will be having palpitations at the thought of all this retail therapy!!!!!
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