The visa troubles are finally over. My mom and I flew to LA on Monday evening and had surprisingly good sushi at this little hole in the wall across from our hotel. Our cab driver from the airport was interesting; he either drove ninety or zero and cursed at the traffic in Russian. We got to the consulate the next morning forty-five minutes early. When it finally opened, the consul spoke through an intercom:
"Hello. Do you have a cell phone?"
"No," I answered.
"Turn it off now. If it goes off while you are within the consulate, you will not be getting your visa." (And yes, he really did speak in overemphasis like that. And with a fabulous accent).
So, I went in, I paid ("Is this your own visa card?" "Yes." "Are you sure?"), they sorted through my forms, and they told me that everything was in order except that I was missing my parents' bank statements for the past three months. I had another form that was supposed to substitute for this, but when I tried to argue the point, this was the response:
"Look, it is very simple. You will go up to the fourth floor, you will connect yourself to a computer, you will print out the documents, or you will not be getting your visa."
So verily, we went up to the fourth floor, connected ourselves to a computer, printed the documents, and lo, I got my visa. We flew home a few hours early and had some extra time to prepare for leaving the next day for Florida to go to my grandfather's eightieth birthday party. While I was gone, a little note from my host family arrived wishing a happy new year. It was signed by my host mother and two girls named Camille and Lea, but no Louis.
Hmm.
But, the day after we arrived in Florida, I gave them a call like I'd been planning to. I spoke to my host mother Catherine, and it went pretty well considering that I'd never spoken on the phone before in a language other than English. It was difficult starting out: I froze after saying hello, but luckily she prompted me ("This isn't Angela, is it?") and I was fine from there. She told me a little about how school is going to work out and we chatted about the weather (it was snowing when I called, which is fairly unusual for the region). And I solved the mystery: Louis didn't sign the card because he is currently studying in Britain, and he's going to be out for my entire stay (I'm getting his room). That still doesn't explain why AFS didn't tell me about Camille and Lea, but at least I have an idea of what's going on. I tried to ask how old they are, but I don't think she understood my question. I'll find out when I get there, so I'm not too fussed.
I feel a little less anxious now that I've spoken with her-- she seems very nice, very considerate, and most of all, very patient with my French (but I didn't do terribly; I only had to ask her to repeat herself twice). I'm still intensely curious about all the things I didn't get the chance or have the vocabulary to ask, but it'll all just have to wait. Only nineteen more days-- less than three weeks. Wow...
Updates as they come, but I don't think there's much more left to happen until I leave.
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