The Journey Inward

From July 10th, when I received my contract with AISJ until today, when I reported to the South African Consulate in New York City, I was busy! I needed to research retirement and actually retire, resign from my district, research South Africa and its history, climate, languages and regions, talk to friends of friends who were living/had lived there and most importantly, I had to gather all the paperwork necessary for my Visa. This involved many trips around town and the county and several trips to a notary. I met with the AISJ HR coordinator to confirm my paperwork looked right. I had pictures taken and tracked down college transcripts from a gazillion years ago.

I was traveling the West Coast for most of August, staying first with my daughter and son-in-law for 9 days, then renting a car and driving up the Pacific Coast Highway and ultimately ending with a week with my youngest in Astoria, Oregon. It was a wonderful experience and I cherished the time together. But getting nervous about possible delays or cancellations, I moved my flight to be safe.

The Visa appointment left me feeling slightly nauseous that after all this time and change, I could be denied for not having something just so. It felt kind of “all or nothing” -ish.

The receptionist told me I had a beautiful smile when I checked in, and his friendly manner put me at ease. Watching a South Africa travel video also distracted me and got me excited. Then I began speaking with a young woman who grew up in Cape Town and she gave me great travel tips and texted her dad for tips on what to do in and around Pretoria. I even overhead a woman without a cashier’s check be told she could run out and procure one and bring it back.

When my number was called, I stepped up with my thick file, colorfully tabbed and labeled with the categories. The second item I slid under the divider was my Visa pictures. She took one look and slid them back to me, mumbling, “No teeth.” Not comprehending this shorthand, I asked what she meant. Apparently, unknown to both AAA and me, there was no smiling allowed in Visa pictures. Luckily, she said I could have them taken at FedEx downstairs. My other paperwork seemed tolerable until we got to my banking.

My bank statements involved a lot of legwork, phone calls and failed attempts at getting the prerequisite stamp and signature. “We don’t do that anymore,” I was repeatedly told by bank employees at various branches. But the morning of the appointment, I stopped at a NY branch, and they gave me a letter of reference, which felt pretty darn affirming. I slid the stacks of paperwork to her, 3 months of statements from 6 different accounts, and then that reference letter at the end as the pièce de résistance! She ignored my hard-won letter and instead focused on removing all of the staples I had thoughtfully used to organize the pile of papers, each time with a great sigh. Deciding she wanted to hear less than more from me, I simply smiled sheepishly. Once the staples were removed, the papers got sifted and shifted and shuffled, and then had to be reorganized. I decided to keep my “brilliance of the stapler” comment to myself.

We had one last showdown over my divorce decree. Remembering the parental unwritten rule that we should rarely answer more than we are being asked, when she asked, “One page?” I responded, “Yes,” since all I had submitted was one page. She tried again. “One page?” “Yes,” I repeated. We did this four times, then there was a huge sigh and she moved on.

I had my pictures retaken, confused at how to smile without showing teeth, and ended up looking like the Cheshire cat. I raced these back up to find a full waiting room and the receptionist on break. I paraded around the room a bit, hoping she’d wave me forward. She did not. When the receptionist returned, I informed him that my smile had in fact gotten me into trouble. We laughed and he said I didn’t need to take a new number, but could just slide my photos through. I wasn’t convinced, but buoyed by his certainty, I waited until Number 17 was done, and slid my pictures in. She didn’t smile, but she didn’t say no.

And now came the great exhale! The tight bodice had been removed and without the constant compression, I could breathe. My worry that my new adventure could meet its abrupt end seemed to be unfounded. It would appear that all systems were go. And with that, my appetite returned with great ferocity!