Going home

The return trip was an adventure in itself. It included getting my visa stamped, a long wait at the border, and more airports and airplanes. In a matter of hours I went from the country of my birth, to the country that I know as my home. I started out in the one of the deadliest cities in the world, and I ended up in peaceful Corvallis, Oregon.

I went to the Zaragosa border crossing early Tuesday morning to get my visa stamped. The driver dropped me off on the Mexico side of the crossing and I walked to the American side where I had to turn in my documents. We went early in the morning to avoid having to wait in line, as the border crossing gets very busy. Even at that early hour there were a lot of people crossing into El Paso. I learned that many people work in the States, but they live in Mexico. Certain living expenses are cheaper in Mexico, so it makes financial sense. Depending on where you work you may have to leave your house several hours early to get to work on time.

There are several lanes of traffic as well as a pedestrian bridge. I was on the pedestrian walkway, and I walked across to the United  States. Something that I found slightly amusing was that in order to get on the bridge from the Mexico side you had to pay 60 cents. I thought that was kind of interesting.

Boundary Marker

Right in the middle of the bridge there is a plaque marking the boundary between the U.S. and Mexico. I really expected something more exciting to mark the border, but this was all I got. I was also expecting some kind of fanfare as I walked across, but, once again, I got nothing. The truth is you can walk right across the border without having a visa. The only issue with that is that the bridge leads you right to the Homeland Security outpost where they might ask to see some documents.

I got to the crossing, and I walked into a room with a waiting area and a few windows where immigration officers were working. There was a separate line for people that had already been admitted, and who regularly crossed to border to work or shop in the U.S. That line was long, but the area I was supposed to be in was pretty empty. I sat down, and waited for an official to call me up to the window. When it was my turn I walked up, and handed him my packet. He walked to the back for a few minutes.

At this point, I know that I am in the clear, and that I am going home. For some reason, I felt a bit nervous for just one second. Like he was going to come back and tell me that there was a problem, and that I would have to stay in Mexico longer. Or that they had changed their minds entirely, and that I was not welcome in the U.S. Obviously, this didn't happen, but it did not stop my imagination from running wild for just one second. 

The officer came back to the window, I signed something, and he fingerprinted me. Then he stamped my visa, and he welcomed me to the United States. He told me that I could leave and re-enter the country at any time. That felt good. It felt like an important moment, and I felt thankful. 

Cameras and security devices everywhere

Thousand of people cross everyday

I walked back to the Mexico side where the driver was waiting for me, and he took me back to the hostel. I gathered all my things, and I waited for a different driver to take me to the El Paso Airport. This was no easy task. Even though El Paso and Ciudad Juarez are right next to each other, it took us almost two hours to get from the house to the airport. Without traffic, this would should have taken about twenty minutes. On our way out of Mexico we were also stopped and briefly questioned by the Mexican Federal Police, or los Federales. That was kind of exciting. Then joined the mass of vehicles trying to get into the U.S., and we waited. Snail's pace is a fitting term to describe how we moved towards the border. The good news was if we ever got hungry, or just wanted to waste money, there were hundred of street vendors walking up and down, between cars, selling their wares. 

Even after we got past the official border, they were everywhere. Legal or not they walk right past the boundary. They don't go past the checkpoint, but they do cross the line. The driver told me that every once in a while a few border patrol agents with walk up towards Mexico, and they will herd these vendors back into Mexico. These are the things you learn while waiting at a border crossing.

When you go through the border, your car is monitored by massive, high-tech cameras. The driver was telling me that the cameras had extremely high resolution, and they had used the images to apprehend a fugitive several months before. We slowly made our way to the booth where a border patrol agent took our identification, and scanned it. He gave it back to us, and after asking us why we were coming into the country, he welcomed us to the United States. I was getting closer and closer to being home. I was back in America, but this time I came in through the front door(not my expression).

Once again, I was struck by the immediate contrast between these two countries that are right next to each other. It is a completely different feeling that I have had a hard time describing. I pointed this contrast out to the driver, and he dismissed it. He said, "No matter where we are, we are all the same. We work, we eat, we sleep." I couldn't help but think that this was a very simplistic observation. He is half right, but you have to admit that there is a definite contrast between the two places. One is better than the other, and I am not saying that it is a reflection of the people because it isn't. It is two countries that went in entirely different directions, and one has done better than the other. That is not to say that this country does not have serious problems of its own, but that is for a different blog.

It is interesting how certain small things can have such a comforting effect on a person. The simple fact that everything was in English made me feel at home again. I knew that i could drink the water without fear of getting some horrible sickness. My cell phone was not roaming anymore. It is the little things that matter.

He dropped me off at the airport, and I began the process of trying to find a flight to Portland. I was seriously fed up with airports at this point. I walked up to one airline counter, and it was if I didn't exist for a couple of minutes. When I tried to say something the "person" cut me off, and told me to wait my turn. There wasn't anyone else in line. After striking out here, and at several other airlines, I found a flight that was leaving within an hour. Unfortunately, it would come at a steep price. Oh well. I wanted to go home.

I paid for my ticket and went through the slowest security line in the world. Of course, whenever I am not in a hurry these line are quick and efficient. Today, I was in a hurry, and they were taking their sweet time. I always get the impression that they use some acting when they look at your boarding pass so intently. Because all they are looking at is to make sure the names matches with your id, but a higher power told them to look at it as if they were trying to read hieroglyphics. I didn't care. I was going home. 

Before I made it to my terminal  I made sure I was going to the right place. I read a story about a guy that flew to Portland, Oregon when he actually needed to be in Portland, Maine. I wanted to avoid that mistake. I flew from El Paso to Dallas-Fort Worth, then finally on to Portland. Portland, Oregon.

My wife met me at the the airport. When I saw her I knew I was home. I was having a hard time believing I was back in the States. It felt unreal for the first few days. The familiar places felt unfamiliar for a while, but after about a week I felt like I had never been gone. Of course, there is no way I will ever forget my journey. I think about it often, and I miss my family. My journey is not over. If anything, it is just beginning. I still have friends and family in this horrible situation, and it has become my goal to help them and others. I have seen the need for people that are willing to stand up for the cause, not only in words, but in actions. Which is why I want to go to law school and become an immigration attorney.

 I will keep you up to date with that development, as well as giving my opinion on immigration matters as they come up. Immigration has been in the news a lot recently, and I know you are all dying to know what I think about them. Thank you for reading, and feel free to comment.