I always pictured Embassies to be plush royal looking places. Today I finally made it to the Indian Embassy and found this thinking to be completely backwards. Driving through the city I made it past the Marina, through the Presidio, down Arguello, and into Presidio Heights where I parked in front of what looked like a small house with a lot of Indian pride. The Indian Embassy is only marked by the Indian flag hanging over the door.
I arrived at the Embassy right when it opened – 9am – thinking my being prompt would mean I got through quickly. Upon opening the door I found this was not a cushy office, but more like a cross between a butcher shop and doctor’s office. The linoleum floors and florescent lights inside the Embassy amplified the fact that being prompt doesn’t necessarily mean fast. It seemed 55 (to be exact – I know because the number I pulled from the dispenser said 56) people were ahead of me. After waiting in one line to get my passport photos stapled to my Visa form, I waited in another line to have the form signed, and yet another to pay. Then, 1-hour later and $60 poorer, I was free and now am free to go in and out of India as many times as I please in the next 6-months.
If my expectation of the Embassy was so flawed, I think I may be in for a rude awakening when I actually make it to India.
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