It started at 7:30. A shrill, incredibly annoying wake up call from the parentals, to get my sister and I out of the heaven that is a Marriott Bed, and ready to go. By 8:10, we were on the road, (along with the other six trillion people of Miami), and heading to the translation center to pick up my birth certificate. A quick stop by Einstein Bro's for everything bagels and apple juice (YES), and another 10 minute traffic session, and we arrived! Contrary to my belief of the Spanish Consulate being some 108 story building, with stalwart Spanish guards, and angry Spanish dogs, we ended up on the second floor of a banking building, in a hallway that led to three or four different consultation rooms, and a waiting area smaller than my very own bed chamber. Huh.
After waiting in line anxiously, we were in! I fed my ever-so-important documents through a three inch plastic window to a kindly looking Spanish fellow, and took the time to silently thank my awesome Padre for insisting I put all of those documents in order, copied, and paper-clipped together. After 3 minutes of transition of the documents, and another 5 of suspension in the mini-waiting room, we entered a larger consulation office. The woman there told me it would be about two to three weeks until I received my visa in the mail, along with my other seriously crucial paperwork, and then I would be able to pick a departure date, and be on my way!
And that was it. Two months of document collecting, copying, signing, and Apostilling, two months of emails, and phone calls, and faxes, and (of course), Facebooking, three days of intense Miami heat, traffic, and other vacationers, and
we
were
done!
So now we wait. It's been a full three days since my
Besos y Abrazos,
Nicole


