Everything is organized for the show in April. The Brazilian guitarist Eneias is coming to Adelaide to perform with me. I've booked flights, hotel, theatres. Tickets are on sale. Flyers and posters have been printed.
Everything is ready.
But there is one thing I have not prepared for; the labyrinth that is Australian immigration law.
I thought it would be best for Eneias to organize his own visa, rather than trying to arrange it from here. He has engaged a visa agent, and I have provided the information they required, and have responded to their various questions. I'd assumed that the visa would soon be issued.
But now Eneias sends me a new form. What is this? Application for an entertainer's work visa? Apparently, this is what he needs if he intends to play in a public performance here. The form requires him to provide a "sponsorship approval number". I am supposed to be registered as an "entertainment sponsor". This is ridiculous. I'm not a concert promoter. I'm not bringing the Rolling Stones here to play Adelaide Oval. Our event is really low-key and small-scale.
I'm on holidays with my husband in Budapest. This is not what I want to find when I check my email.
Quickly I download and print the form he's sent me, and I suggest responses to some of the questions that he had trouble answering. I google the process for becoming an entertainment sponsor, and print out the application form. The accompanying information suggests that the sponsorship and visa applications can be sent together to speed up the process. My husband has a rest before dinner while I work on filling out the enormous form and ask the hotel staff to scan and email it to me; then I forward it to Eneias.
We email back and forth. He thinks there is still time to obtain the visa, but I must provide my approval number. I explain that I don't have one. We're both using online translation, but it's hard to understand the nuances of each other's conversation. We're not getting anywhere. But he sounds as anxious as I feel.
This development has completely knocked me sideways. I had never thought of our arrangement as one of "employment'. I was inviting him to come to Australia as a friend, to have a holiday for a week and a half, and to play a bit of music with me. I had never considered his visit to be an "immigration" issue. In Australia we are fortunate to travel quite freely. I can go to other countries to speak at conferences without getting a work visa. I had assumed that his visa would be a mere formality.
But I was wrong. We are tied up in red tape.
My husband and I are out sightseeing in Budapest. I try hard to focus my attention on the sights, but I can't let go of the thought that my carefully-organized plans are falling apart. I feel panicked. I try to persuade myself that it's just a temporary glitch; that it will work out.
I am completely unfamiliar with immigration law; I've never had to deal with it before. I email my friend Yana who is a migration agent in Adelaide. Yana tells me that the application for this visa comes in three stages. It could take 2-3 months; maybe longer. This is not what I want to hear.
It's too hard. There is a real risk that the visa will not come through in time. We decide to postpone the show until later in the year.
This is a terrible disappointment. I set about cancelling all the arrangements.
I must start to unravel the red tape.
Everything is ready.
But there is one thing I have not prepared for; the labyrinth that is Australian immigration law.
I thought it would be best for Eneias to organize his own visa, rather than trying to arrange it from here. He has engaged a visa agent, and I have provided the information they required, and have responded to their various questions. I'd assumed that the visa would soon be issued.
But now Eneias sends me a new form. What is this? Application for an entertainer's work visa? Apparently, this is what he needs if he intends to play in a public performance here. The form requires him to provide a "sponsorship approval number". I am supposed to be registered as an "entertainment sponsor". This is ridiculous. I'm not a concert promoter. I'm not bringing the Rolling Stones here to play Adelaide Oval. Our event is really low-key and small-scale.
I'm on holidays with my husband in Budapest. This is not what I want to find when I check my email.
Quickly I download and print the form he's sent me, and I suggest responses to some of the questions that he had trouble answering. I google the process for becoming an entertainment sponsor, and print out the application form. The accompanying information suggests that the sponsorship and visa applications can be sent together to speed up the process. My husband has a rest before dinner while I work on filling out the enormous form and ask the hotel staff to scan and email it to me; then I forward it to Eneias.
We email back and forth. He thinks there is still time to obtain the visa, but I must provide my approval number. I explain that I don't have one. We're both using online translation, but it's hard to understand the nuances of each other's conversation. We're not getting anywhere. But he sounds as anxious as I feel.
This development has completely knocked me sideways. I had never thought of our arrangement as one of "employment'. I was inviting him to come to Australia as a friend, to have a holiday for a week and a half, and to play a bit of music with me. I had never considered his visit to be an "immigration" issue. In Australia we are fortunate to travel quite freely. I can go to other countries to speak at conferences without getting a work visa. I had assumed that his visa would be a mere formality.
But I was wrong. We are tied up in red tape.
My husband and I are out sightseeing in Budapest. I try hard to focus my attention on the sights, but I can't let go of the thought that my carefully-organized plans are falling apart. I feel panicked. I try to persuade myself that it's just a temporary glitch; that it will work out.
I am completely unfamiliar with immigration law; I've never had to deal with it before. I email my friend Yana who is a migration agent in Adelaide. Yana tells me that the application for this visa comes in three stages. It could take 2-3 months; maybe longer. This is not what I want to hear.
It's too hard. There is a real risk that the visa will not come through in time. We decide to postpone the show until later in the year.
This is a terrible disappointment. I set about cancelling all the arrangements.
I must start to unravel the red tape.
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