I have one more week before starting to teach, I do what I do not have time to do normally. Read the day watching The View and Oprah, writing this blog and go make a visit to the passport offices of the exquisite Place du Centre, Hull.
First step: let me take pictures. I do not always come back because we are asked not to smile. We must force yourself to look stupid, then we were always taught to smile for the camera. And besides, I feel like smiling, because the photograph is taken will allow me to travel, one of the things I love best on earth. From Maine to Istanbul, my dreams are vast and I feel like smiling, just thinking about it. Think suppress that smile, for the officers to be responsible for issuing my passport I do not deny it, claiming that I looked too happy at the idea of traveling once again is a real challenge.
Second stop, the passport office. I hovered for a good twenty minutes to find me a parking place (strike-d'OC-Transpo-who-the-force-people-to-take-l'auto requires). I am ready to face the monster of the endless wait: I have a granola bar, my Wally Lamb 750 pages, filled my iPod songs of 7500. I should be OK to fill the hours before I have to give my non-smiling photos and asked my completed. I'm 38, I have a master's degree in psychology, taught for 10 years and I'm still a little nervous ... and if I miss a letter, passed a check ... The lady's home look at my old passport and asks me: "Do you travel much in the coming years?". I would like to explain that yes, I would like, but what do you want, we know nothing of life. If I could, I would leave immediately, and would travel far, like last year, and come back more often to better again. I would like that, well, go on report. Talking to people, write about my encounters. Of course, the queue is long and I do not say this la blême préposée qui doit déjà être frustrée de voir tous ces gens partir et pas elle. Je réponds donc "OUI" à la question, sans savoir si cela sera vrai. Je ne prends pas de chance et me commande une passeport X-Large de 48 pages. 5$, ce n'est pas cher pour espérer remplir 48 pages avec des étampes de Russie, d'Australie, du Japon ou des États-Unis d'Obama.
Surprise, l'attente n'a pas été si longue que cela. Une heure et quart, environ. Je crois que j'ai pris plus de temps à retrouver mon chemin en dehors de l'infâme Place du Portage, pour sortir de ce labyrinthe de fonctionnaires. Vous avez déjà visité ce lieu? It seems like the ideal place for a passport office. When it puts the feet, was 10 times the taste away from its insights and its blaffards brown walls. It's not for nothing that there are 1000 different coffee stands, we really need a lot of caffeine to stay awake, walking in the architectural aberration.
Well, I have my passport on or before January 28. In time for my next trip to San Francisco in March. A short trip, 5 days. Not long enough that only applies if this delicious phrase of the late Emma Bombeck: "When you look like your passport photo, it's time to go home"
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