Ling Er San Ba.

Today was my self-selected day to go to the embassy and apply for my visa.  Believe it or not, it was my first such visit to the embassy...I've always been spoiled by someone else taking care of this end of things during my previous travels.  Before going I meticulously read through the directions on the embassy website, ensuring that I knew how to fill out the form and not look like a completely novice (even though I am).

Upon my arrival I skirted my way past the Falun Gong protesters, who have staked a steady presence outside the embassy doors. I walked inside only to immediately panic.  It was as if I had step foot right in the motherland, and the reality of this made me freak out.  I stared blankly for a moment at the white security guard (as if confused that a white guy should be manning the place) and then averted my eyes downward to find a machine with two buttons:

* Application
* Pick-Up

Easy enough.  I pushed the "Application" button and sat down in a waiting room that resembled the DMV.  How long is this going to take?  Long enough so that my panicked thoughts continued to surmount.  What the heck am I getting in to?  I can't do this!  I literally almost broke down in tears as I slunk in the plastic waiting room chair, facing a board that flashed strings of numbers to indicate the next in line. 

I decided that I was going to pull myself together and not completely lose it.  I prayed hard, asking that God would reassure me with his presence. 

But yet I felt alone, and there was a terrible knot in my stomach.  On the overhead PA was a computerized voice, dictating the next in line both in the mother tongue and then in English. When it came my turn (#0238), I got up rather numb and headed to Window 5.  I managed a cheery hello and handed over my documents.  The woman scribbled something on a pad, handed it back to me and said, "Pick-up on Friday."  I thanked her, and headed out the door, surprised by how fast it took.

Deep breath, Sherise.  It's getting closer...