5. The joys of online shopping

Been neglecting this and there's a lot to catch up on.

Think I already mentioned that Kuwait had a two-day local holiday coming up, for National Day and Liberation Day, providing a long weekend to which I could add a few days for a break back home.  Since Liberation Day this year fell on the Friday, first day of the weekend, there was lots of speculation in the newspapers - and in the office - about how the Government would compensate everyone, the likelihood being they would declare the Sunday as an extra day off.  This year however, Friday, Feb 26 was not only Liberation Day for Kuwait, but also marked the birthday of the Prophet Mohammed (PBUH) across the region, another holiday.  Clearly not wishing its hard workers to miss out, the Government declared both Sunday and Monday as off days, a five-day weekend – woohoo!

Back to Blighty then to see the lovely Sharon and her Mum who was recuperating from, thankfully highly successful, major heart surgery.  It's a fairly common op these days, but still a big deal especially when the person concerned is someone you know and love.  But she's a game ol' girl Anne, very strong and very independent and she's making a very good and quick recovery.   

Isn't internet shopping great?  Over the last few months, I've been ordering bits and pieces of kit for the trip and/or the bike itself.  This gets delivered at home and I'd pick it up on visits.  Obviously, you can buy online in Kuwait, but everything imported by whatever means is subject to lengthy customs clearance and mail delivery is sporadic at best.  The one exception to this little local difficulty was acquiring some superb riding gear from the States through my American mate Steve (R1200GS; Sprint ST) who's something big in communications kit in Kuwait and does a lot of work with the military.   As he was also ordering some gear to use on his Kuwait bike (650 Dakar), he was able to get it all delivered to the US base and cut out the usual importation hassle.

This trip home I was due to collect inner bags for the panniers and top box, a mount for the Zumo 660 GPS I got from Sharon for Christmas (there's another story here about how hopeless BMW Motorrad in Park Lane, London were and how they practically refused to sell me the more expensive BMW Navigator version, but perhaps another time…), also a Bluetooth headset for my helmet so I can hear the Zumo and iPod, and some other bits and pieces.  But even in UK, deliveries are not always straightforward. 

Hats off therefore to Mane Event of Manchester, suppliers of the pannier bags.  They emailed to double-check my home address as the mail had returned their package marked 'address unknown'.  Mane Event confirmed my address was as on the order form and the package and revealed: "On examining the parcel more closely I noticed that the post office here had stuck the signed for delivery label over the house number.  That would probably explain non-delivery.  However, if the sorting office had lifted the end of the label up they would have seen the number."– lazy posties.  

Congrats too to Bikebits4you from Berkshire, from whom I ordered the headset for my Caberg helmet.  This and some other stuff I'd asked to be delivered to my Mother-in-law's address because that's where Sharon was after her Mum came out of hospital.  Everything I'd ordered was delivered, except the headset.  There was a delivery note for it, even a credit card receipt, but no sign of the kit itself.  Ok, I confess, I did think that perhaps it might have arrived and somehow been 'mislaid' - Sharon and her Mum did have other priorities at the time after all.  But they were both adamant they had no recollection of its delivery.

So I fired an email off to bikebits4you explaining the situation, asking them to confirm actual delivery and if it had been signed for.  By now I'd resigned myself to trying to claim for the thing on my credit card insurance and re-ordering.  But lo and behold, a couple of days later the headset was delivered.  I sent an email of thanks to Bikebits to confirm its arrival and got a reply pointing the finger at suppliers who had 'lost the order' and graciously apologising for the inconvenience.  Still not too sure how we managed to get the delivery note etc first, but hey who cares, I got my kit.

Thus equipped, it was time to pack the bags again and head back for the last few weeks of gainful employment in Kuwait.  There was a lot going on work-wise and I was not looking forward to the dreaded process of our houseful of stuff being packed up and shipped at the end of the month.  Ok, fair doos, as an employee of a major multinational, I agree we're spoiled to the extent that this is handled by local providers under global contracts, but it's still a lot of hassle.  And with Sharon staying home to be with her Mum, this time I'd be doing it alone.  Ho hum, packing is such sweet sorrow…

4. Contrasts and the paper chase – Part II

Shiny new passport in hand, next job was to get my Kuwait residency visa transferred from the now cancelled one.  Under Kuwait law there's a few days' grace given for this to be completed, but I had a much more pressing deadline.   I was due to fly home to see Sharon over the National Day/Liberation Day holiday the following week.

Previous experience of dealing with officialdom in Kuwait suggested visa transfer would involve a LOT of paperwork, a LOT of carrying it from one place to another and a LOT of waiting.  And not only paper, but signatures and stamps (rubber and revenue - although residency transfer is supposed to be free), and lots of staples to keep it all together.

Accompanied by the endlessly patient Rana, our company driver and general assistant, to guide me through the process and provide translation where required, we head for the nearest Ministry of Interior office located in a complex below Kuwait's Liberation Tower (shown above).  We approach reception, hustle through the massed ranks and eventually attract the attention of one of the two Kuwaiti ladies behind the desk - unless enforced, queuing or even waiting in turn is an alien concept here.  I show my passports and Rana explains what we wish to do.  We're told we need to complete a form. 

This means going to another office where I hand my passports and civil ID card over to one of four guys sitting at computers – and one actually working a manual typewriter.   All seems to be going well till there's an exchange in Arabic and Rana starts to look worried.   It seems the guy's suggesting we need to have an original and a certified copy of the sponsor's (my company's sponsor's) signature.  No foreign entity or individual can do anything (or even be) in Kuwait without a sponsor.  Ours sits in Ahmadi, a town about 30km and a 45-minute drive south of Kuwait City.  Our sponsor is a subsidiary of the national oil company and therefore a government entity and it's already gone 3:00pm, their office will now be closed.

Rana suggests we try winging it, his rationale being that it's me who's asking for the residency transfer, not the sponsor.  After getting both passports and my civil ID photocopied by the full-time photocopier operator at 100 fils per page, we head back to reception where Rana enquires if the job can be done on the strength of my signature alone.   We're directed to the Manager. He turns out to be a rather nervous looking young guy in national dress sitting at one end of a large open area with a range of cubicles worked by mostly abaya-clad young women on one side and punters waiting to be seen by them on the other.  The nervous Manager rapidly concludes our enquiry requires yet higher authority and we're directed to his Manager.

The Manager's Manager is a uniformed guy with separate office round the corner.  Most Kuwaiti officials of this seniority seem to operate an open-door policy which means you have to hover within eyesight outside the door till they motion you forward.  This works and all seems quite informal, but also means they can be, and are, interrupted by anyone else who comes by with a problem, or to have a chat, a cup of tea and a smoke or whatever.  This guy seems quietly efficient though and after listening to Rana's explanation scribbles 'not required' (in Arabic obviously) on the form where the sponsor's signature should go.

Thus authorised, we return to reception where the papers are re-stapled, I sign the form and we are given a numbered ticket for their queuing management system.  We head back to the waiting area and… wait. 

Before too long however, we're summoned to one of the cubicles where a young, black-clad Kuwaiti girl with heavy black eye makeup starts keying in my new passport info.  Moments later there's evidently a problem and, though I'm sitting at her desk, she ignores me and beckons Rana forward with an imperious tilt of her head.   She's not happy about the absence of the sponsor's signature.  Rana gently explains the manager's manager had said, and confirmed in writing, that it was ok.  Not content, she heads off to his office to investigate further. 

She returns looking grim and I fear the worst.  But she flounces back into her seat, complains loudly to her neighbour while flourishing my form, which has a lot more writing on it that it had, then takes it all out on her keyboard.  I venture to think I'm home and dry, but no, Rana is summoned again.

While my passport is clearly new, she wants to know where it was issued.  I confirm it was the British Embassy in Kuwait and Rana translates.   But it doesn't actually say that anywhere in the passport, just that it's been issued under the 'Authority' of the FCO (Foreign and Commonwealth Office).   More keyboard thumping ensues and Rana retires only to be signalled forward yet again.

It seems the computer system says there's a KD10 (£23/$34) penalty to pay, on my new passport, which is only two days old.  For what she cannot or will not explain and try, calmly, as he might, Rana can't get any clarity. 

In the interests of getting the transfer completed, I decide to pay regardless and she prints the penalty notice, which we have to take to the cashier at yet another desk.   Rana tries to unscramble the issue here too, but only gets told something about the grace period for transfer being only five days – but my passport is dated Feb 15 and today is Feb 17!  I part with KD10 and we return to madam who thankfully has not decided to take another customer.  Rana valiantly tries once again to get her to explain the fine, but she simply shrugs and blames the computer system.  (Later, back at the office, a literal translation of the penalty notice reveals I've been fined for having "Transferred information while out of the country", whatever that means, even though my old passport and her own computer records clearly showed I hadn't left Kuwait). 

Deal done, she sticks the new visa in my new passport and then staples it – STAPLES IT – to my old one and hands it over.  I can't get out quick enough, terrified I'm going to burst at the injustice of it all. 

I suppose we could have gone back to the uniform to complain, but I feared that could have resulted in further 'difficulty' and perhaps an insistence on acquiring the sponsor's signature – at best.  I needed my passport and visa to be in order and with me to be sure of being able to fly the next week.  I suppose an afternoon of frustration and KD10 is not too bad for such peace of mind.