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.

Pre-interview: Fingerprints and medical exam.

U.S. Consulate

Ever since I got back many people have asked me what the process is like. Well, where do I begin?

As you can see from the picture, the Consulate is an  ominous looking place. On the outside, it looks  more like a prison than a government office. Of course, the people inside are much like the friendly government employees we have come to know and love.

Like many of these places, the routine is the same; hurry up and wait. Once you enter this building you become a number. Nothing more, nothing less. They don't care who you are, where you are from, and what you want. You are in their territory. As soon as you leave the building, you no longer exist to them.

The first appointment was a fingerprint appointment I had that the first day that I was in Mexico. Ciudad Juarez is dirty, desert-like place, and the U.S. Consulate is like an oasis in the middle of a desolate wasteland. Juarez is an ugly city, but as you drive closer and closer to the consulate you start to notice nicer buildings and businesses.  In the blocks around it there are department stores, nice hotels, Starbucks, and other popular establishments.

Waiting room

The fingerprint appointment was not at the Consulate itself, but at the Applicant Service Center. It is down the street from the main building, and it is not actually part of the U.S. Consulate. At the fingerprint appointment, they take your picture and they scan your fingerprints. It is how they identify you when you go to the appointment. It is also a type of digital signature where you swear that you will the the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth at your interview.

Its a quick affair at the ASC. You present your passaport, proof of your appointment, and you are in the door. Then you sit, and wait. Then they call you over to a counter where you are searched. Then you wait. Then they call you to a cubicle, and the scan your hand and take your pictures. You have to read a placard on the wall that is a type of oath, and you are done. After this appointment I had a quick dinner at a little gordita stand. (I do miss the food.)

Smile!

Then it was back to the house for a nap. I could not stay awake any longer.

The next day our driver took us to our medical exam. He got a few of us into the car and we headed off to the clinic next to the consulate. The medical building was nice, clean, and the people were very professional. Maybe they were a little too professional. It was obvious that this place had become a business that was benefiting from the Consulate. You are required to pay the fee and any shots that you may need. They are not affiliated with the consulate, but they provide you with the results that you need at the interview.

Once again, the theme is wait, wait and wait some more. They have a waiting room. You give them proof of your appointment and your id. They give you a number and they send you to another waiting room. When they call you up to yet another window you give them your passport. They separate men and women and they make groups of about 10.

You are led into a room where they have you take off your shirt. You are called one by one into and x-ray room where they take a scan of your lungs. They do this very quickly and efficiently. Then you go into yet another waiting room. This is where I ran into somebody I knew from Oregon. It was a big relief to have a familiar face to share this experience with. When we found out the next step in the process we got slightly more nervous. We were going to get our blood drawn. 

I don't know if I have brought this up before, but I have a problem with needles, and the sight of blood, and the sight of other peoples' blood. The way they did it also made me uncomfortable. You are herded into a room with a group of strangers. They sit you in a chair that has a raised arm. The room wasn't very big at all, so you are sitting inches away from someone getting their blood taken.

On the outside, I was trying to appear calm and collected, but internally I was panicking. I did not want to have my blood taken, nor did I want to see other people's blood. These nurses were very efficient. It was like some kind of factory. when my name was called I raised my hand. A nurse walked over to me and she told me to hold my hand out, and to make a fist. I looked away, fearing the absolute worst. I felt a slight pinch, and it was over. She had her sample. She told me to get up. I didn't eat breakfast so I felt a little faint. I think she noticed because she asked me if I felt ok.

I got out of the chair, relieved that I had lived through the ordeal, but of course it was not over. We were led to yet another waiting area. In the next area they weighed us, took our blood pressure, and checked our hearing and vision. Then we went into individual rooms where we were examined by a doctor. The doctor went over me very quickly, and she asked me questions about drug usage and diseases and things like that. Before I went to Mexico I made sure I had most of my shots. That strategy paid off. The doctor told me that I did not need any shots, and that I could go.

I paid at the front desk, and I waited for the other guys that were with me. One of them had to get several shots, and another had to go through a "psychological exam." I think in a previous interview he had lied about using drugs, so they made him jump through a few extra hoops. They told us to return in a few hours for our results. When we got the results we were told that we could not open them before our appointment at the consulate.  Then we headed to the grocery store for some shopping.

You had to do your own cooking at the hostel, which we didn't really want to do so we bought plenty of cup-o-noodles, and simple things that would not require cooking or washing dishes. Then the waiting began. I went to the medical exam on a Wednesday, but my actual interview at the consulate was not until Monday morning.

The next few days included a lot of reading, pacing, talking to the other guys, eating, and watching tv. Once in a while my buddy and I braved the outside world and we would walk to the corner convenience store. Or we would sit on the front porch and count how many times the federales drove by. In the next post I will give a play-by-play account of the actual interview.

The Journey Begins...

I'm sitting in the beautiful Portland Airport waiting to board my flight. I went through airport security quickly and painlessly. I always hear about the nightmares that people have when boarding flights, but I have never really had any problems. I think different airports work differently, and Portland has to be one of the good ones.

Time really flew by. It was almost exactly a year ago that we began this seemingly endless process. The year turned into months, which turned into weeks, which turned into days, which turned into hours, and now here I am about to board an airplane. So many people said so many kind words that really touched and ministered my heart. One thing that stands out in my mind is a scripture that my pastor's wife gave to me. At the moment that she said it to me I knew in my heart that it was not her words, but God's word for me and my wife.

The scripture is Psalms 121


 ¹ I lift up my eyes to the mountains—
   where does my help come from?
² My help comes from the LORD,
   the Maker of heaven and earth.
 ³ He will not let your foot slip—
   he who watches over you will not slumber;
⁴ indeed, he who watches over Israel
   will neither slumber nor sleep.
 ⁵ The LORD watches over you—
   the LORD is your shade at your right hand;
⁶ the sun will not harm you by day,
   nor the moon by night.
 ⁷ The LORD will keep you from all harm—
   he will watch over your life;
⁸ the LORD will watch over your coming and going
   both now and forevermore.

This scripture is very powerful because it can be applied to any difficult situation that we may face.
Even now, as I read it again I have a sense of peace. I hope that this scripture can speak to your life.
see you all soon and keep in touch