Hello again, readers! I’m glad you’re still with me. This entry is written from my hotel room in Chicago – more on that adventure in the next entry. It makes more sense for me to go chronologically :)
My first adventure began a few weeks ago. My sister was in town for the first time since she was in college, and we were planning to take our first family vacation in years – a weekend of wine tasting in Napa. The evening before my family was planning to depart, my mother mentioned that there was a message on the answering machine “from Israel.” “The whole country’s calling me!” I joked on my way to the machine to play back the recording. But my laughter was short-lived; the message was from the Israeli consulate informing me that they were missing important paperwork from my visa application. Cue minor melt-down. We sorted everything out, planned when and how I could get all the paperwork together, and I planned a trip to San Francisco to visit the consulate and have a lovely day with my boyfriend, Ian, for the following week.
I purchased new passport photos (apparently the ones my roommate took for my application to the program didn’t cut it – sorry Steph!), printed my flight confirmation, and paid my tuition. Then Ian and I drove to San Francisco. There was no street parking outside the consulate, so we Chinese-fire-drilled. I hopped out to search for the consulate, and Ian proceeded to spend the next 75 minutes or so driving around in circles (sorry babe!).
After spending about ten minutes wandering around looking for 456 Montgomery Avenue, I finally found it. I entered the building and ran into a security desk.
“Hi...I’m looking for the Israeli consulate, am I in the right place?” I asked.
“Sign in.” barked the guard, and he made a call upstairs. He muttered inaudibly for a few seconds, then said, “Wait here.”
Um, okay.
There were no chairs, not the most comfortable place to wait, but oh well. As I waited, the guard sent several people by to the Swiss consulate, and I began to feel like this might be a little more intense. The phone rang, and the guard muttered inaudibly into the receiver again. Then he handed it to me and said, “They want to talk to you.”
Again, um, okay.
“Hello?” I said tentatively.
“What is your business?” replied a voice.
“Um, I received a call a few days ago saying that I needed to submit some further paperwork for my A-2 student visa?” I uptalk when I’m nervous. So sue me.
“Let me talk to the guard,” the voice said.
Once again...um, okay.
The guard muttered inaudibly into the receiver some more, then finally told me I could go upstairs. I rode the elevator to the 21st floor and found a door that said “Israeli consulate.” I tried to open it, but it was locked. I looked around and saw some chairs. Well, at least it was a more comfortable place to wait? Eventually I heard the buzz of magnetic locks, and an Israeli gentleman opened the door and ushered me in. He asked if I was carrying any weapons or if I had brought anything that someone else had asked me to bring. Then I went through what was basically airport security. Gosh.
“Okay,” said the gentleman, “here are your belongings, but we’re going to keep your cell phone.”
Whoops. Sorry Ian.
More magnetic locks buzzed, and I was ushered into another room with chairs on three sides and two windows for speaking with employees. Having received no instructions, I sat and waited in one of the chairs. Then another young woman came in and went straight to the window. Well, there you go. So I sat and waited as she argued with them that she should not have to provide proof that she was enrolled for the coming year because she was a returning student, and she should not have to provide proof that her finances were in order because she had financial aid. This went on for about fifteen minutes. Finally she left, and I went up. I handed over my paperwork, answered some routine questions, and was told I had been approved. Hooray! I called Ian and we proceeded to have a lovely afternoon and evening in the City involving Pad Thai, miles of walking, a lovely park, some adventures with public transit, and the most amazing garlic restaurant.
Tomorrow from the plane I'll work on sharing with you all the drama of my travel plans brought on by none other than Hurricane Tropical Storm Irene. Much love!
And the saga commences...
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