Masala Dosa on the Mekong

The gate to the embassy slowly opened. "All Indians! Run! Run! RUN!" shouted the Malay security guard with a sardonic grin on his face. What ensued was a stampede. I was applying for a visa to enter Malaysia in their High Commission in Singapore. "Take a seat," said the receptionist. She asked, "Would you like some coffee?" I was waiting to meet the Manager of a factory manufacturing automotive parts in a suburb of Chennai, a city in southern India. He was also the Honorary Consul for Madagascar. To enter Madagascar, most Western passport holders could get a visa-on-arrival. But Indians had to apply for a visa in advance. So, I waited to meet the Honorary Consul. I entered his office. He was a middle-aged Malagasy gentleman wearing a crisp white shirt and a blue tie.  He asked, "So, you want to visit Madagascar?" I replied, "Yes." "Have you brought your passport?" he asked. I gave it to him. He swiped my passport on a reader o...

"Land borders are not always straight." he said. "Sometimes there is a bend in the border." I was crossing the land border from Uganda to Rwanda in East Africa. "Why are you crossing at this border?" she asked. I was driving back in my car from Montreal to Buffalo, where I was living. I was crossing the U.S. - Canada border at a remote border crossing in Vermont. It was a single lane road and the border was two flagpoles with the Canadian and U.S. flags on them.  A woman officer on the American side asked me to pull over. I was the only person at the border. I gave her my U.S. Green Card. "Where do you live?" she asked. I replied, "Buffalo."  "Why are you crossing at this border? You should be crossing the border at Niagara Falls," she said. "I want to drive through Syracuse," I said. "Why?" she enquired. "I am planning to apply for a doctoral programme and want to visit the University there," I s...