I say that because getting your passports restamped with tourists visas good for another 30 days is no small feat, apparently.
It's a good thing we had such a wonderful concierge at the hotel; Harsha was a wealth of information, tips, & good advice.
I met Harsha via phone when I called downstairs to ask for late checkout. Since Lindsey could not go with us (his passport is currently in some government office being "processed" for his residency visa), we needed to leave him in the hotel. Alrhough it was only 9 am, I wasn't sure how long we'd be gone & Lindsey wouldn't have any wheels. Better to just ensure late check out & it would be one less worry.
Harsha was a HUGE help. When I explained why we needed late checkout, he immediately told me about where I needed to go to get my passport stamped. Here's what he said:
1. Don't go to the big border control site that pops up when you google "UAE/Oman border". That crossing (30 minutes away by car) is most commonly used by "tourists" which means that you are treated like cattle by government officials who are (generally) unfriendly, impatient, & not helpful. The whole process (four stamps total) will take almost the entire day.
... Well, nobody has time for that! Kids or no kids!! But good to know since I'd be doing this with 3 kids in tow & I don't speak the language...
2. Use the smaller, little-advertised border crossing (20 minutes away by car) frequented mostly by local farmers & individuals coming into Al Ain for the shopping malls. This border crossing can actually be done from the comforts (read "air conditioning") of your car window as you drive through each gate. With a little luck, you won't have to get out of your car at all (a definite plus!!) "You will have to do things a little differently than the locals," he said, "but the facilities can handle passport tourist visas." There won't be any long lines & the officials are more patient & helpful. (Notice he didn't say anything about "friendly".) Harsha estimated about two hours for the whole process.
... Awesome!!
3. Take some cash with you... just in case (he didn't say what "just in case" might entail, & I didn't ask) & you will need a credit card for the fees on the Oman side (different currency).
4. Bring your passports (one for each person going across) & your vehicle registration/insurance.
... Okaaay. I'm in a rental car. But I think it's in the glove box.
Harsha specifically asked me if the car was mine or a rental. <long pause> This was important & I don't have any idea why. There must be some issue with rental cars & the Oman border?! Harsha said perhaps the first official would just overlook it since we were essentially doing a u-turn as soon as we crossed into Oman. It could go either way.... But if the official wouldn't let the car across, then we'd have to walk between the checkpoints & control offices. Harsha assured me that it was only a short distance - about 1 kilometer - easily doable.
So, I paid close attention to his every word, gathered up the kids, kissed Lindsey & met Harsha downstairs so we could confirm my route on the GPS app I planned to use. After I was confident I knew what to expect (more or less), I thanked Harsha & asked where we might grab some breakfast. He immediately ushered us towards the hotel buffet.
Now, we booked our room using Lindsey's Hilton awards program points. We did not book the rate that included breakfast. I said as much to Harsha. He insisted that I start with a good breakfast for me & the kids. He made a comment about "needing it" (perhaps this should have raised a red flag?) & actually waved us past the attendant, seated us at a table, & brought us a server.
Harsha is, by far, the most helpful concierge I've ever encountered. I hope everyone meets a Harsha in their lifetime. He genuinely wanted to help people.. to do whatever was in his power to make our life better in whatever way he could. He is a blessing.... truely.
So with full bellies, we jumped into the car, turned on the talking box, & set off for Oman.
True to Harsha's word, 20 minutes later we found ourselves in a car queue for the first checkpoint. Cross your fingers.... Here we go.
We followed the car in front of us to the little window. I handed over my passports, clearly stated I was doing an exit & immediate reentry for tourist visas, & smiled.
Now, I've never been lucky. I'm not the person that wins the raffle or the door prize. I don't get pulled over by police & let off with only a "warning". Nope, that's not me ... so I wasn't really surprised when the guy in the official uniform asked to see my car registration.
Nope, not lucky at all. I should have worn better shoes...
He scanned my papers & handed everything back plus an extra paper printed completely in Arabic. Then he waved me on to the next spot 50 yards down the road.
Hmmmm... Okay. At least "we're in", but still no stamps in our passports.
On to the next! (I guess....)
I drove up to the next window where a guy in the more traditional dress asked for my papers. I gave him our passports & the printed paper. (I swear he threw that paper on the floor... not 20 seconds after the first guy printed it!!) Then he mumbled something, started to hand me back our passports (still no stamps), & waved in the general direction of the road. I was confused so I tried to ask if I should drive on?... Where do I get the exit stamp?
He mumbled a little louder & I swear he said "drive around" & "park". But I didn't see any place TO park, so I asked again. This time he made eye contact in the form of a glare, waved more forcefully, & mumbled "park, park!" a bit more impatiently.
If THIS is what Harsha meant by helpful & patient, I can't imagine what goes on at the other, bigger border control.....
Okay... I'll park.
The car in front of me had driven on through the very official looking gates up ahead. No place to park there & my gut said, "don't cross through those gates yet." .... I've learned to go with my gut.
There was absolutely NO parking lot near me, just a mixture of sand & asphalt that pretty much makes up the roads around here. Hmmmm.... The closest parking lot looked to be across the way, to the left... I could reach it if I "drove around" to the left & then "parked".
Huh, maybe that's what he meant... alrighty then.
Except that's not what he meant....
We parked against a curb a little out of the way but near an official looking building with a door marked "Waiting Lounge". Surely this must be it.
I took the kids inside & met a nice older English gentleman sitting in a back row who took pity on us. We looked lost; it was painfully obvious.
Turns out, he was there as a guide for another couple doing the exact same thing as us. We were actually standing in the last building in the process, he explained. He wanted to know if we had the other three stamps yet.
Um, no.
I told him I was so confused. I explained what we'd done so far & that I honestly didn't know where I was supposed to be at the moment.
He laughed, then walked us back across the street right up the same booth (different window) where the same traditionally dressed official sat waiting...
NOW he wanted my passports...
So, the kids & I stood in the heat (it was now 11:30 am) while he accessed something on his computer, took a phone call, & stamped each passport with the official exit stamp.... one at a time... very slowly. Did I mention the heat?
Than I had to pay him... Cash.
I asked for a recipt; he glared again, but wrote one out.
First. Stamp. Done.
He then told me to walk down to the Oman offices... only 1 km away... & waved me away. I politely asked if I could drive the 1 km, perhaps?
No such luck. It was almost straight up noon, in full sun, I was in kitten heels, & the kids were already wilting... Perfect conditions for a 0.6 mile walk across sand & asphalt, right?! He pointed us toward the building in the distance with the flags.
Fabulous. Well, the sooner we start, the sooner we can be done. Off we go....
It took us about 20 minutes to walk just over half a mile. I could feel the sweat running down between my shoulder blades & pooling in the waistband of my pants. The bra strap must have been saturated; it was no longer acting as a sweatband. The kids were dragging. Everyone's face was turning red under the blistering sun. Where were the palm trees? What happened to the breeze? Who ordered up 85% humidity today?!
We passed 2 small buildings along the way; twice we got our hopes up. The first was just those beautiful arches I'd seen the local cars breeze through.... & the second was a little guard station with a very sweet man who spoke no English.
It's surprising how much you can convey via hand gestures, physical objects, & simple words. I waved my passports & stated very slowly but clearly that I needed entrance stamps.
Why do we do that, by the way? "Talk slowly" to someone who speaks another language. Saying something slowly or louder doesn't somehow magically translate it into the language of the party listening so they can now understand us. And yet, we all do it when put in this kind of situation!
I do think "no" must be the same in just about every language...
The guard & I smiled at each other a lot. The kids were obviously exhausted & hot. In the end, "Not here, but we were almost there" was the gist of the conversation. He pointed down the road a little further. <sigh>
Finally, we reached the building on the Oman side that housed the officials who had the power of the entry stamp!!! Woohoo!!! I shook the sand out of my heels & headed inside; the kids beat me to the air conditioning. There were bathrooms & a water fountain too. So while the kids splashed water on their faces & lay panting on the bench, I went to the counter on the RIGHT to fill out the paperwork for the entry stamps.
Stamp, stamp, stamp, stamp & a credit card receipt later ... I was told to walk to the counter on the LEFT to get my exit stamps.
Four more stamps & a signed slip... Done!
Well.... Almost. Now we had to walk the 1 km back to the UAE border. It was 12:30 pm.
I rallied the kids, we sucked down a few more sips of water, and off we went back onto the hot sandy road...
... And within 2 minutes, our guardian angel took pity on us. A very sweet local man (who I suspect was one of the guys working inside the Oman border control building) drove up & offered us a ride to the UAE checkpoint.
Bless him & his dusty bronco...
What took us 20 minutes to walk before, was a comfortable 5 minute ride now. An added bonus: this man spoke English & Arabic. He was able to help me understand what the officials needed at the guard station in order to leave Oman (that little signed slip from 2 minutes before) & he dropped us off right next to our car & the Waiting Lounge! He wouldn't even take the cash I offered him for his kindness.
I have great respect for the Oman people because of this ambassador. My limited interaction with him & their officials showed they are a kind gentle people.
But back to my story... I only have 3 of the 4 necessary stamps. The fourth stamp, however, is the most important. It's THIS stamp that makes the kids & I "legal" again for 30 more days....
So we entered the lounge & took a seat. There were 2 other men in the room, but they appeared to be waiting for the border agent just like us. Hmmmm... Where was everyone? No officials in sight.
While we waited, the kids found a vending machine. Water & snacks... It might be a long wait; better feed the monkeys. After everyone had their turn with the machine, we settled into our seats to wait.
I don't know what your family does to pass time, but we like to play word games. Start with the letter "A" & name as many animals/foods/places/things... (whatever)... until no one can think of anything else. Then do the same for the letter "B".... and so on, and so on...
Or list one thing you learned today that you didn't know yesterday (boy, I could list way more than 1 today!!!) How did you learn it? Etc.
Or... Well, you get the idea. Often, we will start a game & some idea or thought will take us down a tangent... Which is exactly what happened while we waited. Madeline was trying think of something new she learned when the biggest fly I've ever seen landed on the seat in front of us. I mean this thing was seriously huge. It got us wondering: we have horse flies in TX, could this be a "camel fly" here in the UAE?
While we debated that... & then which insect doesn't have a mouth after it reaches it's adult stage (we are weird, I know... Just embrace it! Although, we never did figure that one out...) the border officials arrived from wherever border officials go when they leave you waiting.
A lady in traditional clothing who spoke very few words directly to us but had amazing henna tattoos, made quick work of stamping our passports.
Four. Stamps. The holy grail....
We were done. Twenty more minutes by car & we were back at the hotel. Harsha was waiting for us; he has a package of the local dates I had mentioned that I liked from breakfast & wanted to make sure everything went smoothly on our journey.
I gave him a large cash tip. That man deserved it. It had been almost exactly 2 hours since I had left. He was spot on & although we were hot & tired, the process was pretty much exactly as he had described.
If our residency visas don't process on the next 30 days, I'll definitely stay at the Hilton & do this again. It will be easier, too, as now I know exactly what to do!!!
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