If Heels Could Talk: All THAT For Mango Sticky Rice?

Picture this: a Nigerian passport holder, fueled by sheer stubbornness and a love for exploring the world, chasing down a dream of sandy beaches, papaya salads, and the ultimate prize—mango sticky rice. That’s me.

It all started with a casual chat with a friend in early 2024. A single mention of Thailand planted a seed, and suddenly I was on a mission to return to the country where 11 years ago, I’d made unforgettable memories and lifelong friends. The plan seemed simple—until I started researching the visa process from Japan. Let me tell you, it nearly broke me.

Here’s the kicker: aside from the usual paperwork, these three demands nearly knocked me out of my chair:

• A Japanese guarantor willing to vouch for my expenses and behavior (say what?)
• My employer’s certificate of incorporation (why not just ask for my soul?)
• A police report (am I applying for a visa or parole?)

But listen, your girl wasn’t about to back down and so I came up with a plan. Plan A: use my U.S. residency to apply for an eVisa. Boom. Dodged a bullet… or so I thought.

Ten days later, an email from the Thai eVisa office shattered my peace. They wanted more.

• Proof of employment in the form of a letter from my employer.
• A police report or—brace yourself—an FBI background check from the last three months.

I couldn’t believe it. Sitting in Tokyo, with visions of Thai beaches fading fast, I found myself whispering: “All this… for mango sticky rice?”

But then something clicked. That little voice in my head—the one that thrives on proving people (and processes) wrong—said, You’re doing this.

What followed was nothing short of chaos:

• 30 minutes reading FBI instructions on how to submit a request online.
• 45 minutes on the phone with the U.S. Embassy in Tokyo (they couldn’t take fingerprints).
• 2 hours scouring Tokyo for an agency that could. Found one!
• Emails begging the agency to meet me at my office to save meurs of commuting.
• A hefty fee in yen for fingerprinting services.
• Setting up a personal FedEx account for home pickup because who has time to commute an hour to the nearest Fedex?
• Stalking my package’s journey to the FBI every four hours like a part-time job. • Daily status checks on the FBI site.

And finally—finally—a clean FBI report arrived.

With my vision clearing, I submitted the remaining documents to Thailand and got the visa on December 10th. By the time it arrived, I was emotionally drained. But something happens when the world tries to tell you “no.” You dig in, find a way, and prove them wrong.

So, when you see my photos in Thailand, know this: it’s not just a trip. It’s a triumph over ridiculous requirements, endless hurdles, and a process designed to make you give up.

And when you see someone celebrating what seems like a small milestone, remember: you don’t know what it cost them to get there, what it took them to arrive at that moment. Sometimes, the journey forces you to see the destination differently.

Was it worth it? Absolutely.

I lounged on beaches, ate all the Tom Yum I could handle, and had fresh mangoes for breakfast every day—even when they weren’t on the menu. And yes, on my last day, I ate mango sticky rice—not because I love it (I actually don’t), but because I had earned that moment.

Sometimes, you do it for the plot.

PS: If Heels could talk: Stories from the road is a series of stories from my travels. Read another reader favourite here

PPS: This story was first shared in my newsletter last month. Join in the fun below, you can unsubscribe at any time if it no longer serves you! While you’re there though, I promise to deliver personal anecdotes and tips from my life, career, and travels.