I am filled with joy that you are by default my most trusted reader. I know father will tell me he read my posts, but you know better than me that he is never to be trusted. And why write in English, you might wonder? Don’t be naive. There might be a Nigerian Prince reading this, thinking: “What a brilliant story!! I will give this man millions of dollars!” But first a trip to Den Haag, The Embassy of Pakistan.
The Embassy of Pakistan is set in a nice Herenhuis. Still it is one of the cheapest Embassies you can find in Den Haag. Comparing it with the Embassy of Iran or India, The Pakistan Embassy is like entering a refugee camp after an earthquake. One cannot take a country seriously with an Embassy like that. You know what I’m talking about, mother.
I arrived too early, but just in time. A decent man with the height between a dwarf and an ordinary short guy gestured me to follow him through a bureaucratic maze. He told me to sit down. he himself was climbing on his black leather chair. It was funny to see his legs floundering while he was pulling himself up. After 45 uncomfortable seconds he sat behind the desk that filled half of the room. He tidied his hair and suit and took a pen from his desk to write my answers down.
‘I would like to go to Pakistan, you know, to travel.’ I was a bit nervous.
‘Good,’ he said ‘can I see your documents.’
I gave him my passport. ‘Is that all you have?’ He asked.
‘I don’t have any documents, only my passport, Mister Ambassador. I will be traveling overland and I don’t know when exactly or where or how I will get to Pakistan yet.’
The frown on the small balding man worried me.
‘That is a very big problem, Mister Dieleman, very big problem.’
‘So, what can I do?’ I asked him very carefully.
He stroke his chin, he looked at the ceiling, tapped his finger on the desk, put off his glasses and rubbed his eyes, cleared his throat, opened a drawer, closed the drawer. He jumped of his chair and ice beared a little bit.
‘I have an idea.’ raising his finger. I was afraid he would tell me we had to go through a closet, fight the ice queen, conquer three ghosts and throw a ring into a volcano. ‘you go,’ he said with dramatized voice, ‘sit behind my desk. And you write me why you want to go to Pakistan.’ I was waiting for something else to happen. ‘What are you waiting for?’
‘I’m sorry, that’s it?’
Dear Mr. Ambassador,
My name is Willem Dieleman, I am 27 years old and I want to go to Pakistan, because I think it is an interesting country. I will also travel to Turkey, Georgia, Armenia, Iran, India, Nepal, Vietnam, [“Are you writing a novel!?” the ambassador asks me annoyed from the doorway.] Cambodia, Australia, Indonesia and China. But Pakistan is on top of my list. I hope to be granted with a Visa.
Thank you for your consideration,