Black Fingers

Today I went back to the police station to get my visa. I arrived with few expectations other than to be ready to wait. My expectations were met... I found the office at the police station was full of other people with passports and papers. There was one guard and one computer. Progress was slow going, but there was progress nonetheless.

Eventually, my passport was picked up by the guard. He began to ask me some questions; unfortunately for me, he spoke no English. Fortunately for me, there was a younger Arab woman in the office who spoke English. Apparently, at many of the universities here they have most of their classes in English, so her English was very good. She was a huge help to getting me through the whole process. The guard gave me a hard time about several things, but in the end he stamped my passport.

Before I could leave, he pressed my fingers in black ink and put my fingerprints on a form. At this point I had been in the office for over 2 hours, so I would've gladly given them whatever they wanted just so I could be done with it. Which reminds me, I didn't have to pay the extra fee because as it turns out I wasn't late. So fingerprints were nothing.

I'm just glad to have it taken care of. I won't have to worry about anymore visa junk for a few months. I hope that my next post will be a little more engaging. And as long as I don't write about more visa stuff, I don't think that'll be a problem in the slightest.