Okay, gotta say: San Francisco is absolutely amazing.
The hills, the flags everywhere, the cable cars, the waterfront...amazing! I heard so many different languages spoken there, I was amazed. People on the street would walk by you speaking Russian/German/French/Mandarin, and that wasn't at all weird. Boy, was I in a different world. I had fun teaching myself what all the flags were, because we were in a part of town that had a lot of embassies.
And speaking of embassies, the French one wasn't at all bad. Great location, I have to say: You could drop in, get a visa, walk over to Chinatown, and mosey back for dinner in a little French café right outside your hotel! Ah man, I loved San Francisco.
And you know how I was freaking out about getting my visa and making sure all my paperwork was in order? I think the hardest part of the whole thing was getting past the security guard (who wanted to search my bag, my purse, my folders, and wanted my appointment slip to boot, she only gave up when I told her it would take me a while to dig it back out of my folder.) Then I sat down in the most terrifying row of chairs in my life, next to three other people who looked just as worried and disorganized as I was, which was kind of a relief. At least I wasn't the only nervous one, you know?
But then I was called up (in San Francisco they don't even call you up in order of appointment: You just arrive sometime on your appointment day and wait in line until they get to you.) and I started talking to a nice French lady who took all my papers and started checking them off on the online list that we put my paperwork together based off of! It was so funny. Mom was like "Look, she's using the same list!" The only scary moments were when she called over her supervisor and started speaking very rapid French that I probably couldn't have understood even if there wasn't a big sheet of glass between us. Every time she did that, I nearly died, but it was fine. Finally she just took my papers and my passport and said "Do you want us to Fed-Ex you the visa or would you like to come and get it?" and I was like "I so totally did that!" :) It was great. Really fast, too.
Did you know they take your fingerprints? I didn't. The guy at the counter kept getting this angry look on his face because I wouldn't press my fingers down hard enough.
So now there's 25 days until I leave America. I've been talking with Alexia and Marjorie on IM systems, and I think Alexia and I already get along well. :) Twilight exists in France just like in America, and twelve-year-olds are the same everywhere, I guess. She speaks really good English, too. I think the only problem I'm going to have is going to be getting people to speak French to me! But I bet Téo can't speak English, so I'll get practice there, right?
It feels weird to be planning a goodbye party and counting down the days until I go. I don't think my brain is going to catch up to me actually leaving until I'm boarding a plane for Boston. It still feels...distant. It's such a hard feeling to describe. Like I know, but I don't know yet. But over this year it's been slowly sinking in, so I don't know. What I do know is that I can't wait.
~Josie Harris
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