Last week I had to go to immigration to renew my visa. I'd been there a couple of months ago, and although the process was long-winded and expensive, it didn't cause me too much pain. Therefore when I revisited the office last week, in the Intramuros district of Manila, I was entirely unprepared for the seven circles of hell which awaited.
Last time I'd got there at around 11, and had to wait until 3.30 for my visa, which had effectively taken up a whole day. This time I hopped into a taxi at 7.30, before the inevitable traffic jams had a chance to build up, and was there at 8am when they opened. My first surprise was that I wasn't allowed in the building. At all. Two months ago I'd had no problems when I turned up wearing shorts, but since then they'd put up a cheaply photocopied notice saying "No shorts or sandals", and were refusing to let anyone thusly attired in the building.