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How I got through Immigration acting like Paris Hilton

Immigration is where souls go to die; it’s like watching a Nickelback concert on repeat. And no… I will never stop dropping them in my blog posts. I’ve seen so many people either bawling their eyes out or screaming with large veins in their foreheads. It’s not a great place and people often lose their cool in a matter of seconds because most of the people assigned to their desks fucking hate their job and would prefer to gouge their eyes out repeatedly. Whoa, that’s an exaggeration!


I’ve not had the best luck with visas, especially in South East Asia and those dreaded visa runs! Something to take note of, they really don’t like South Africans and you will be pulled aside. This happened to me not once, not twice… but THREE times doing a visa run from Phuket to Penang, Malaysia. The first time was a total meltdown and I basically pleaded like a whiny Lamb to get them to stamp me. If you’re unfamiliar with this particular visa run, your 30 days or 90 days are almost up in Thailand, so you pay a visa company to drive you in a minibus at an average of 180kms per hour to the Malaysian border, you then stay the night while the visa is processed and then return the following day. This entire process is dripping with corruption and bribery. It’s legit to a point, but there are so many horror stories, that many travelers have started to ditch this option.

What’s so bad about going through immigration?

You’re talking about THOUSANDS of people doing a visa run PER DAY. The law requires you to show proof of funds and a continuing ticket. 99.99999% of people are not checked for this and it’s simply a stamp and go situation, but not for South African and Brazilians. This was back in 2013 and I’m hoping they’ve eased up on us since. So, there we were, unassuming little Saffas and we were pulled aside to talk to the big guy. The picture I am painting is 100% accurate: 160kgs with a military uniform unable to speak a word of English in a small room with a single desk. Just like the fucking movies. Not sure how I got my sister and I out of that one, I think I just annoyed them until they let us go because they kept asking for a bribe and I wouldn’t give in. I’m fucking angelic like that.

The second time…. I was ready for the bastards.

I got my dad to send me HIS proof of funds with a letter from him stating that he was paying for our travels. My continuing ticket was booked and the stage was set. Like we expected, we left the line of thousands and got pulled into the room with fat bastard and the whole thing started over again. They didn’t know that Lamb had a trick up her sleeve.

“We are just sooooo happy to be here. Daddy has decided that WE need a holiday because we’re just not quite sure what to do with ourselves. We really need to find ourselves, you know? Like, the Dalai Lama, you know?”

The fat one had an assistant who could speak English and her entire demeanor changed to one of anger. She knew I had her because ideally, all the want is for us to holiday in their country and NOT teach like we were actually doing without a proper visa.

“Thank you soooooo much – you guys are awesome! How was that baby you ate earlier sir?”

Ok, I didn’t say the last part, but I still tell the story today that acting like an absolute bimbo was one of the smartest things I’ve ever done.

Now I want to hear your immigration stories! Leave them in the comments below!

Love from,

Lamb xx

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