Chicago Excursion #2

On Today's Menu: VISA. It's everywhere you want to be...but won't always get to be.

I forget how much I love big cities until I visit one. The tall buildings, the unique smells, the variety of people, the outrageous number of Starbucks cafes...I'm captivated by it all. I turn into a different person when I travel. I become abnormally confident and seem to exude self-assuredness that is noticeable to those around me. This is especially true when I go solo and when I travel to a place I am not very familiar with. The more foreign the place, the more confidence I have. Weird, I know. Seems like it should be the other way around. I have decided to place the blame on my fascination with culture. I hate being a tourist. I like to blend in. Not because I fear rejection, have low self-esteem, or any other such psycho babble...but because I love to observe a society as it is. Designate me the fly on the wall, describe me as cultural camouflage, whatever. It's my life's calling.

Recently, I made a much anticipated journey to Chicago in order to reclaim my passport from the Spanish Consulate. Being the swashbuckler that I tend to be, I decided to make this trip all in one day. This meant getting up at 3am to catch a flight out of Nashville, layover in Atlanta, hit Chicago's Midway Airport, take the subway (or El as they call it) to the Consulate, pick up the passport, get back on the El, go back to Midway, go back to Atlanta, touchdown in Nashville around 11pm. Long day. What could I have possibly been thinking, you ask? Indeed it was: Why do I have to go further south in order to go north? I resolved that I shall never know the answer to that question. (Probably not the response you assumed?)

I make it sound as if I had zero time when, in fact, I had loads of time on my hands. I spent a couple hours in Atlanta and about seven hours in Chicago. My main objective for the day was, actually, not to pick up my passport, but it was to not focus on the pointlessness of this trip. Yes, I needed to get my passport back. But the academic endeavor that I had spent so much time preparing for, fell through at the last minute, thus rendering the visa so neatly affixed to my passport useless. It was quite the bummer, I will admit. I was, needless to say, disappointed when they handed me said visa (which would have allowed me to stay in Spain for the entirety of 2010) knowing full well that I wouldn't get to use even one day of it. But, as I previously mentioned, all my efforts were put forth into not fixating on this fact. Instead my focus was remembering that God has a marvelous plan for the future. I just know it. He is full of wonderful surprises, no?!

Anyhow, I decided to spend my seven hours in Chicago experiencing what I could. I went to the park, to the pier, to Starbucks (it was a must), walked up and down the Magnificent Mile, scoped out Chicago University...the confidence thing I mentioned before was kicking into overdrive by this point. So much so that I had numerous people stopping me on the street, as well as people on the El, asking me for directions and at what stop to get off in order to reach this street or that store. What was crazy was that I was able to tell them. What was even more crazy was that I was right. I've been to Chicago exactly three times. Never spent more than forty-eight hours at a time there. Nor had I ever been there by myself. I say this not as bragging...believe you me...but I say it with astonishment. I learned a lot that day. I find learning something new to be enthralling. Possibly even more so when it involves the illumination of one's own character.

And so, for the moment I shall remain in the land of the Bluegrass, plotting my next adventure, believing God has already laid out the groundwork.

Chicago Excursion #1

On Today's Menu: The Spanish Consulate, The Visa, and Me

"Next day new steps were to be taken: my plans could no longer be confined to my own breast; I must impart them in order to achieve their success."

--excerpt from Jane Eyre

I have discovered first hand that obtaining a visa takes a lot out of a person. Monumental amounts of paperwork must be filled out, fees paid, proof of admission to your chosen school provided, insurance details taken care of, yadda, yadda, ya. What's more is that the Spanish Consulate requires all applicants to apply in person and then, upon approval, return to the consulate to pick up their visa, again in person. Doesn't really sound like a big deal, but when I live in Kentucky and the Spanish Consulate is located in downtown Chicago...kinda becomes a big deal. I wonder if a personal appearance is required by other country's consulates...or is this just Spain's policy? Hm.

Anyway, after spending the past month gathering all the necessary information to make said visa approval possible, I traveled this weekend to Chicago to make my first appearance at the Spanish Consulate. Fortunately, I didn't have to go it alone on this one--thankfully my dad came along for this particular part of the journey. His accompaniment was most appreciated, especially since I was overwrought with anxiety and the fact that Chicago is a rather large city where I had absolutely no idea as to how to get anywhere with much ease. And so, despite my apprehension, together we tromped through the miserable cold and rain, admittedly made a couple wrong turns, but eventually found the consulate, and ahead of our scheduled appointment time!

I don't know, really, what I was expecting...maybe an interview, maybe I would be required to fill out more paperwork...not sure. What happened was: I walked into this small waiting room with about ten chairs seated right in the middle of the room, walls totally bare, about four students and one Spaniard lingering around, and one women seated at a desk behind three sliding glass windows...you know, like the ones you see in doctor's offices? There was no where to sign in, no numbers taken...it was weird. Dad told me to go to the window and tell the lady I was here for my appointment and she very abruptly told me to go sit down...didn't take my name...nada...very weird. Anyway, she worked with a few of the other students and when she finally looked at me said, "Well, you're next. Get up here." Hmmm. I walked up there. "Get out your paperwork." So I got out the paperwork. She didn't read a thing or ask me any questions, but proceeded to make numerous stamps and markings on each of the papers. "Where is your police report?" Police report? What police report? I need a police report? I told her this. "I can't approve your application without a police report." Okay...aaaaaaand panic attack. Apparently, since the program I am entering lasts two years, there are other documents needed to go along with my application. I was completely unaware. Fortunately, she said I had enough documentation to be approved for six months, after which I will have to return to the states to do this entire lovely process aaallll over again. Imagine my excitement. But, I guess that is better than the alternative, though. She could have not approved me at all and then I wouldn't be able to begin the program until next fall. Also, this way I will get to come home and see my family...see how I am choosing to focus on the positive here?

So. When it comes to the visa thing all I have to do at this point is sit and wait. I will have to write to the consulate via email in six weeks to "check my status" and see about getting an appointment to come and pick it up. This means another trip to Chicago...in the dead of winter...for a five minute "appointment." Oh well...so be it! No one said it would be easy! And it's one more thing I can check off the To-Do-List!