Journey to the Center of the Embassy

Seeing as I have been harassing Scott for the past five years to take me to Beijing, it is not a huge surprise that he finally caved now that we live a mere four hours away. (Well, around four hours). Anyway, we decided to celebrate our ten years of wedded bliss by going to the hometown of the Great Wall (and great knock-off designer products!) the first week in November. We bought our tickets about a month ago and have been trying to get everything lined up to make the trip a smooth as possible. About two weeks ago, Scott pointed out the fact that we (meaning I) needed to get over to the Chinese Embassy to get our visas. He also kindly added that the line is generally extremely long. 

I went online to find out all we needed to present to our friends at the embassy to get our visas. First off...NOT a user-friendly website. It took me about an hour of navigating to find the correct page. Requirements for an American to obtain a Chinese visa: (1) turn in your American passport to the Chinese Embassy which they keep for about four days (scary!), (2) fill out a couple of forms, and (3) pay them a reasonable $190 per visa (yea, and that's for a one time entry). 

Tuesday morning, I gathered all our things and headed to the embassy nice and early to miss the lines.

As I was walking up the hill towards the embassy, I could see a mass of people around the corner. Being in a temporarily optimistic state, I figured the line was outside because they had not yet opened the doors. I took my place in line and started to read my book. About 15 minutes later I had moved about six inches and was starting to get uncomfortably hot. At that same time, I noticed an official looking guy tearing through the line looking at what everyone had in their hands. As he approached I was hoping my orderly documents (and American passport) would help me out in some way. He glanced a my paper work, and made a sweeping motion with his hand. I assumed it meant I was granted permission to skip the line. Me and the group of other "lucky ones" literally ran into the building. I would have walked, but had little choice because the other ones would have trampled me. 

During my journey into the depths of the Embassy, I discovered that the line was not isolated to the outside. Hundreds of people were waiting in line....up the stairway, down twisting hallways. I was expecting to find some kind of orderly, quiet system awaiting the end of the line. Instead, I could would hear a roar coming from the stomach of the mighty embassy. As I approached the front of the stagnate line, I was pushed into a massive room with hundreds of other people. There was no rhyme or reason....and NO English! I had no idea what to do. There were about five lines going in different directions, a large waiting area filled with people, people wandering aimlessly around, and numbers lighting up above large glass windows. I finally located another official and opened my documents with a shrug of my shoulders to impress upon him the fact I had no idea what to do. He pointed at one of two lines and I chose the one that did not lead into a room. When I got to the desk the woman printed a number for me and said nothing.

I was number 445. Luckily they were already up to 413 when I got to the waiting area. I found a nice, comfy plastic seat and set down to read my book. Next to me was a very nice man who decided to start punching himself in the leg four about five minutes. I guess he must have had a cramp.

When 445 lit up above the third window I jumped up and happily handed her my things. (All while being ecstatic it had only taken me a mere hour and a half while all those other poor suckers had to wait in that line). She took my passports, handed me some kind of receipt, and said something which signified I was done. She was already helping the next number and I asked, "Don't I have to pay?" She said, "No. Pay Friday at pick-up."

As if it happened in slow motion, my eyes were guided to where that unbelievably long line led....THE "PICK UP" WINDOW. (Notice I said "the" window...there is no plural). Since I had no choice but to exit the building, I began to make my way past the line I had just so happily passed. I now saw it in a new light. That line would be my destiny on Friday. I was hoping I was mistaken, so I asked the only other caucasian leaving the building if I was supposed to wait in that crazy line when I was to pick-up my visa. She said, "Oh, yea! This is the fourth time I have come to get my visa. The line was just always too long!" 

That night at dinner I told Scott about my experiences at the embassy - namely how lame it was that I have to wait in that line on Friday. Scott (very sincerely) said, "Well, I think that you should get there at four in the morning and just wait." What a fun way to spend my 10th Anniversary! Wake up at 3:30am, to be at the embassy at 4am - which doesn't open until 9am. Let me think about that one?

Love you, Babe ;)