This weekend I took two days off of work to drive to LA to apply for my Spanish visa.
Most people ask: "Wait, why'd you have to go to LA to apply?"
That's a great question. Other than their less-than-simple demand that one had to apply "in person" for your visa, I really have no clue why I had to make the journey. Although I'm not necessarily complaining. I love any reason to go to LA. My only complaint is that I wasn't able to make the trip any longer.
Prior to my appointment at the Consulate (which I made back in May), I had been freaking out that my papers from my program would not arrive in time. I was pleasantly surprised when they came in the mail the Tuesday before I left and I wasn't left making frantic phone calls back East about their absence.
So it was all up to me. I checked, rechecked, and checked again all the papers and copies and documents, and selling-of-my-soul material that I would need to give them. According to the Consulate, if my application wasn't fully complete at the time of my appointment, I would have to leave and make another one, and there simply wasn't time to make another appointment (on my end, or theirs).
After a much anticipated breakfast stop at Portos Bakery (see image: drool), Mom and I got to the Consulate nice and early (also in fear, as the Consulate stated if you were late for your appointment, you would again be turned away to make another appointment). It was just an office in a big office building on Wilshire (which we initially didn't find as I expected it to look more like the US Embassies I've always seen abroad), and there certainly weren't many people waiting as it would appear.
My appointment was at 10:00am, and each appointment was scheduled to last 10 minutes. Simply put, the Consulate hardly stuck to their schedule or their policies as stated on their website or threatening email they sent to confirm my appointment. An hour later I finally stood up and waited behind a man that was so disorganized this was his third time coming back into the office asking questions about his application. Originally they told us that they would be calling our names according to our appointments (and that there were still two people ahead of me in line). I eventually realized that they probably had no intention of calling my name. As the office filled and more people waited behind the windows and people with appointment times much later than mine were being helped (because they certainly weren't waiting for their name to be called), and as appointments with extremely disorganized and unprepared applicant were being accommodated (lasting what seemed like 20 or 30 minutes), I lost my patience (my mom had already left me at this point to meet up with a friend who had arranged to meet us close by, but came to us as my "appointment" was lasting much longer than the allotted 10 minutes).
I was more upset with the disorganized applicants who thought they could slide through without all the required documents or not reading the directions, or not filling out their entire application and waiting until their appointment to figure it all out. I was also upset with the Consulate for being as accommodating as they were (at least for as few workers that appeared to be helping). But I was at their mercy, and I didn't want to start hating on a country (or its systems) where I was about to spend 10 months of my life. As preparation, the program has told us that the Spanish are less inclined to work on the same time lines and schedules we are used to and often change things last minute. Our advice was simply: be patient. I learned from the Consulate that this is something I'm probably going to have to work on before I'm there (and might definitely be a challenge for me during my stay as well).
After over 2 hours, I was finally done, confirmation in hand to enjoy what little time I had left in LA before we left very early the next morning. It feels good to have it behind me.
At the very least, I left feeling grateful that I didn't fly in alone from Denver to apply, like the young girl sitting next to me had. Hopefully she got to Portos Bakery to make it all worth it.
