Anonymous ******************
Well, let me tell you about my experience with the DTV visa extension in Chiang Mai, because honestly it turned into such an adventure that by the end of it I wasn’t even sure if I was in the right place anymore. So I got up ridiculously early, like before my alarm even rang because I couldn’t sleep thinking about the whole process, and everyone kept telling me you absolutely have to be there before sunrise otherwise you’ll be stuck in line for hours, so I thought okay let’s do this properly. I skipped breakfast, which was already a bad idea because my stomach was making noises the whole time, grabbed a coffee that was way too hot and burned my tongue a little, nearly spilled it in the Grab car because the driver kept braking suddenly, and then I rushed over thinking I was late… only to find out the immigration office wasn’t even open yet, so I basically just stood there with my half-burned tongue and no food, wondering what I was doing with my life. While I was waiting, more and more people showed up, some of them super prepared with folders, plastic sleeves, and even extra pens like they were about to take an exam, others looked like they had just rolled out of bed at a hostel, still half asleep and clutching bottles of water. Then I met this Canadian guy who swore that in Phuket it was super easy, like in and out, no questions asked, which just confused me even more because if that was true, why was I even here? Then this German couple insisted you absolutely need a very specific bank letter and they had like three copies of everything, laminated almost, like they were preparing for the apocalypse, and then this Thai guy overheard us and laughed and said no, it’s just a quick stamp, you don’t need anything else, and suddenly I had three completely different realities colliding before the office even opened. But it didn’t stop there because then someone else started talking about the whole 500k baht requirement in a Thai bank account and the look on people’s faces was priceless, half the line started panicking, pulling out their phones and calculators, the other half just laughed it off like it was some inside joke. Then a British guy behind me said he’s been doing extensions for years and never once had to show a bank statement, while an Australian girl swore she got turned away once because her photo was the wrong size, and by that point it honestly felt less like a queue and more like a campfire where everyone was telling ghost stories about immigration. By the time the doors finally opened I had already heard ten, maybe twelve, different versions of what I was supposed to do, each one contradicting the last, and honestly some people were so confident in their advice I almost believed them even though the next person would immediately say the exact opposite. I thought to myself, whatever, I’ll just see for myself when it’s my turn, but by then my coffee was cold, my stomach was still empty, and my brain was overloaded with nonsense. Long story short, after all of that I didn’t manage to get it done at all, I just stayed my 6 months and left the country anyway…