Visa

A few days ago my dad and I drove to San Francisco to obtain my visa. In early May, BLCU mailed an invitation to travel, which I needed to show the Chinese consulate in order to obtain an "F" study visa. From Reno, the drive was about 3 and a half hours, not bad for the extra security of physically going to the visa office and making sure they processed my passport and application. We left at 6:00. I planned on studying characters and practicing dialogue with my dad, but I ended up falling asleep for pretty much the entire trip.

For some reason the Chinese consulate is next to Japantown. When we got to the building, it was about 10:10. Even though the visa office opened at 9:00, there was already a line outside extending a quarter of the block. When I looked at the plaque next to the door, I knew why: the office is extremely inconvenient in that it's open from 9:00 to 12:00 and 1:00 to 3:00. Everything shuts down for lunch from 12 to 1, and if you get there too late, you have to wait an extra hour while the employees eat. As we inched slowly toward the front door, I asked my dad if we were going to be able to make it in. He looked inside and watched the line of people snake slowly through the roped path. He felt pretty comfortable that we were, but I wasn't sure.

As it got to be closer to 11:00, we finally made it to the door. The line outside had grown to encompass half a block, and more people were showing up every minute. Outside the consulate was a display about the Falun Gong, a spiritual group whose practitioners have been kidnapped, tortured, and murdered by the Chinese government. It was interesting to see the graphic pictures, read the disturbing text, and observe the reactions of passersby. Which is to say that there was no reaction at all. The elderly caucasian women manning the display were attempting to hand out pamphlets to whoever would listen. The only one who even looked at the display, not to mention the only one who took a flyer, was a middle-aged caucasian man. I told myself I would take a pamphlet on my way out.

When my dad and I finally physically reached the inside of the building, the chaos was amazing. There were people everywhere, shoving to get into line, yelling their questions to the timid-looking information desk attendant, scrambling to fill out last minute additions to the application, photocopy necessary information, or purchase an envelope for the passport to be mailed home. There were all kinds of people waiting for a visa; students like me, older people wanting to visit family, and businessmen. In Reno, where there is a very small Asian population, I didn't encounter many situations like this. However, in San Francisco and a few blocks away from Chinatown, I realized how different cultural manners were between the US and China. In the US, lines are very orderly and people patiently and quietly wait their turn to be served, at least in my experience. In China, there is no way to be heard or seen in a massive throng of people unless you raise your voice or get physical with the people around you. While the older Chinese people tended to be "rude" according to American conventions, the businessmen, the Americans and the younger Chinese Americans calmly waited in line, getting frustrated (but not really doing anything besides chastising) when someone else cut.

It was 11:30 and we were painfully close to the 8 visa application windows, where only 5 or 6 people were working at a time. I looked back, saw that the line was even longer than before, and wondered how many people knew that the entire place would shut down at exactly 12:00. No announcement was made to those standing outside about the lunchtime closure. The lines weren't clearly marked either causing some people who merely wanted to pick up their processed passports to wait in the 5-times-longer visa application line. We made it to a window at about 11:55, but had neglected to make copies of the travel invitation (we thought they only needed to see it to verify) and an envelope for home delivery. It didn't make much sense to have envelopes and copy machines at the information desk for convenience reasons, but it probably contributed to efficiency. Instead of holding up the line while copies were made, other people could be served. Most people were understanding and let us in front when we were done.

When the ordeal was finally over, we decided to get lunch in Chinatown. I looked for the woman handing out the fliers, but she wasn't there. We drove to Kearny Street, where we discovered that our favorite place to stay, the Holiday Inn right across from Chinatown, had been bought by Hilton. Which meant it would be too expensive. We parked under the plaza and walked up to see dozens of elders doing taichi, playing cards and mah jongg, and socializing. We walked a block to the R & G Lounge (631 Kearny), our favorite restaurant in Chinatown. After lunch, we walked around the little shops, buying some produce and other Chinese foods that are unavailable in Reno. The day wasn't over yet, as we made our ritual trip to the Ranch 99 Market in Berkeley. Once in a while my family will drive to Sacramento to buy groceries, and since we were in San Francisco anyway, it was the perfect time to stop and buy some fresh food. My only purchase was a water boiler (thanks Lea), which I'm hoping will beat trying to microwave water. With the groceries packed in a cooler in the trunk, a peanut milk tea in my hand and a coffee in my dad's we made the drive home. Home to the desert, the mountains, the dryness. All things I will miss when I leave for China in 3 days.