We have the Visa!!!

I'm just going to go through the hoops we went through to get it. I'm assuming most of you are interested in that, and will skip the "travelogue" style posts I'll fill in with later today.

We just got back from the Embassy, visa in hand. I'm working on tickets home. I haven't heard back from the travel agent, but I think we will leave tomorrow night and be back sometime on Wednesday. I'll confirm all this when I hear back.

So, Wednesday morning, we headed off for our 10 o'clock interview. I had told the driver that we needed to stop for pictures and make it to the Embassy by 10, so I expected him before 9. He actually showed up after 9. I explained that we needed to get visa photos of Vindya (different size from the passport pictures I had multiple copies of) and if possible, stop at an internet shop and get photocopies and printouts. He took me to an internet shop, but it wasn't open yet. He suggested waiting for it to open, but I pointed out that we didn't have time. He then took me to another shop, which was down the street from a photo shop, and was open. He kept Vindya while I ran in and got a copy of her passport for the medical clinic, as well as printed out some stuff that the Embassy shouldn't need, but that I wanted to be able to pull out if they asked. I went back to the car, and the driver helpfully said that the photo shop should open soon. I pointed out that it was quarter to 10, and we needed to be at the Embassy at 10. This was a surprise to him, which made me angry. I made a mental note not to use him again, even if he was sent by Mr. Singh. He took us to yet another photo shop, which was open, and which ran up a bunch of visa photos for Vindya in record time. Then, already late, we headed over to the Embassy.

The Embassy is in a really nice part of town. The streets are wide, shaded by big trees, with all the different embassies lining the sidewalks. Oddly for India, there were no little kiosks, shops, people sleeping, or other signs of life, only a few people walking along. We found the US Embassy, and then went around the side to the street that passes behind it. This is closed off by police barricades, and we jumped out of the car and walked a block or so to the gate of the visa section. There was a very long line of Indians waiting to get in, but I had a feeling about this, so I went up to the guard and asked if there was a separate line for US citizens. Indeed there was! Or rather, they simply raised the ropes and let us in at the front of the line. (I'm sure the people who had been lined up since sunrise really appreciated this.) I turned over my phone and camera, and we went inside.

Once inside, we went through a security checkpoint, and then they let us into a large room with rows of seats. There was a woman at a computer kiosk at the door, and after speaking to each person, she gave us a receipt with a number on it. Everyone sat down and watched a screen at the front of the room. When the number was listed on the screen, you could move to the next step. When I got to the woman, she waved me through to the next room immediately.

We went out into a courtyard, and walked the entire length of it to a doorway. This led into another large room with windows like bank tellers' lined up on the long side. The guard at the door said that we should go to the very last window at the other end. This had us walking back parallel to the long courtyard almost to where we started. The last few windows were for US immigrant visas, and the clerk at the last window told us to sit down and wait. We did so, and after about 45 minutes, we were called to the window. They had our file, and I gave them a copy of the AP court order and Vindya's passport. They said to sit down, and we sat down to wait again. About half an hour later we were called to a different window to pay our visa application fee. (This can be paid by credit card without any difficulty.) Then we took the receipt back to the previous window.

Because we didn't yet have the medical certificate, they couldn't issue the visa, but the nice lady said they had everything else. Vindya is over 2, which means she has to have a TB test, which takes 48 hours, so the certificate wouldn't be issued until Saturday. That meant I could bring it back on Monday. I asked her when I could expect the visa, so I could plan my trip home. She said she knew of no reason it couldn't be issued on Monday, but she couldn't guarantee it, and recommended that I plan on leaving on Tuesday. She also asked if I had any comments on the process. I told her what I think of AP, and threw in the information that the clerk who was holding everything up wanted a bribe. (I can't prove that, but it's the kind of think that gets the Hague people in a tizzy, and seems most likely to bring pressure to bear to change the freaking system so that no one else gets trapped in Hyderabad.) She made notes and said that she would send an official communique to CARA, so I hope that changes are made. She gave me a letter that would allow me back in first thing Monday morning ("We open around 8:30, but come any time.") and we headed out.

Our next stop was the medical clinic. We went in, and the information desk directed us to the basement. After wandering around unmarked corridors for a while, one of the staff showed us the room for immigration visa medicals. I talked to the man at the desk, and he said to have a seat and wait. About an hour later, he called us up and looked at our papers. He took some of them and told us to wait some more. After another half an hour or so, we were called up and asked to pay the fee, cash only. I paid, and we went back to wait. Another half an hour later, and we were called up and told to go upstairs two flights to the medical unit.

This was (you'll never guess) another waiting room, where we sat down and waited with a bunch of other people wanting US visas. Finally, we were called in to see the doctor. He asked for Vindya's medical papers. I told him there weren't any. He was surprised, and said that he had never heard of such a thing. He does adoption physicals all the time, and all children have medical papers. I told him that Vindya was from Andhra Pradesh, and they didn't do anything like everyone else did. He shrugged, and asked Vindya to sit on the examining table.

She had been looking unhappy, but when he put her on the table she started to cry. He pulled out his stethoscope, and she hopped down and made a run for it. She got out the door and into the hallway before I grabbed her, and was screaming when I pulled her back in. I had to hold her so that he could listen to her heart and lungs, and was only able to look at her tonsils because she was wailing full blast. I set her down while he gave me papers, and by the time I had them, she was out again. One of the other people waiting had stopped her, but she took one look at me and started screaming again. I picked her up and took her (as instructed) to the nurse who was going to do the TB test. The nurse told her to stop crying and turned to get the needle. Vindya took one look at that and ran.

She actually remembered how to get downstairs to the front door, but the guard wouldn't let her out. I caught up with her, and she ran under one of the desks and refused to come out. Other patients offered her candy and gum, but she was inconsolable. I finally crawled under the desk and pulled her out by one leg, and then picked her up and carried her back to the nurse. In the meantime, they had tracked down a nurse who spoke Telugu, but Vindya was not in the mood to talk. At this point, a very large male nurse came in and took her away from me. He told me to wait in the hall, which I did. I could hear screaming, and found out later that she kicked a couple of people in the stomach, but they did their job, and she was carried back to me with a circle marked on her arm around the TB testing site.

She let me carry her back down to the basement, where she sat crying for another half an hour, while paperwork was done and everyone else stared at us. Finally, we were called to the desk, given another piece of paper, and told to come back on Saturday. I wasn't looking forward to that at all, to be honest.

Saturday, we went back to the clinic. As expected, Vindya recognised the place and started to cry immediately. Luckily, she was pretty low key, and I was able to carry her. We started in the basement, waiting again for the people behind the desk. After only about 15 minutes, they sent us back upstairs. I kept telling Vindya that there would be no more shots, but I don't think she believed me. However, the doctor took less than 5 seconds to run his thumb over her test site and then we sat in the waiting room until a nurse came out with the all important medical report. This was in a sealed envelope, and had a large note on it saying that I was not, under any circumstances, to open it.

So, this morning, we set off for the Embassy, again. There was another long line of people, but I showed the guard my letter from Thursday and they let us right in. We walked past all the lines, the room full of people waiting for their number to be called, and the people waiting to go to the little teller windows. I told Vindya, "This is your first taste of what it is like to be a US citizen. Obstacles that stop other people dead are moved out of our way, because we are ridiculously privileged." She didn't seem to understand, but she started crying and pointed at her arm. I told her there would be no shots, but she was not convinced.

I went straight to the window, and the officer asked me to open the envelope and give him the medical report. I looked at him. "You want me to open this envelope." He laughed and said that now was the time, so I opened it up, and gave him the forms. He looked through them, asked for Vindya's passport, checked something on his computer, and asked me to come back at 2pm. I said that would be fine, and he thanked me for being patient. I didn't think I could explain how not testing of my patience the US process had been, so I just left.

Vindya was over the moon. She kept pointing at her arm and saying, "No, no, no!" in tones of great delight. We went back to the car, and I told him to take us back to 11, and then to pick us up again at 1:30. He did so, and we returned. At 2pm, there was no line outside, or inside. Things were deserted as we walked through, and we were the only people in the room with the windows. All of the windows had blinds pulled down except the one we had been going to, but there was no officer there, and no one to ask questions. We sat down to wait. After about five minutes, one of the Indian security officers came in, said, "Hello, Vindya!" and then left again. After another 10 minutes, an officer came to the window and called us up. I went over, and she handed me Vindya's Hague certificate, the envelope that must not be opened until we get to our port of entry to the US, and Vindya's passport, with attached visa. I was delighted, and she congratulated us both, and we left.

At this point, I had two questions. When could we come home, and where were the Marines? I have always heard that the Marines guard US Embassies, but I didn't see any, only Indian security forces. Do they stay in hidden guard posts on the roof or something? The Indian forces were nothing but courteous to me, but I would have felt safer with real Marines around.