2019!

I was so nervous about my visa interview last Thursday. It was to be my third time to apply for one, and in 2005 and just this June I was only granted single-entries. Well, okay, I did not count that time I was denied four times within three months in 1986 when I was only six.

Anyway, in the days leading to my embassy appearance, I prayed hard, not exactly to be granted a visa, but to be given what I deserve. Further, if denied, then I will take my third exam here just so I can claim an ECFMG certificate. Perhaps I will pursue training abroad at a later time, or not anymore. And I would not have to explain to my parents why I would be giving up on my dream to train abroad. So I was nervous that morning because I knew that the visa I might or might not get will determine my next career step.

I arrived a bit later than I had planned - 5:40AM for the 7:00AM appointment slot. There were quite a number of people, but somehow I made it to the front of the line. I was then able to get a stub labeled number three at the pavilion. That was a good thing. The first time I was granted a visa, I queued up early, too.

There was an old guy who sat beside me. He seemed friendly and composed. Later, I overheard him talking with another applicant that his father had died long ago abroad. I got the impression he was just renewing an expired visa because of his age. And also because he was just wearing jeans and a shirt. For some reason, I wasn't in the mood to start a conversation with him, though at one point I wanted to ask where his final destination will be. I think it is common for many of my countrymen to feel the need to be snobbish when lining up for a visa interview. I don't know, but in all the embassies I've applied at, no Pinoy has ever been friendly or conversant, to me or anyone else.

We were called into the interview area just a few minutes prior to 7:00AM. We went for finger-scanning then were asked to sit down inside the hall. The first window opened at exactly 7:00AM, but a lady in a stretcher was accommodated first. Other windows did not open until around 7:40AM. These embassy staff were really adapting to Filipino time! Almost simultaneously, numbers one and two were called at two separate windows. In less than five minutes, the same window that called number two called me. I found it strange that I had already been called and I haven't seen the cubicle vacated yet.

I walked across the hall and queued behind the window. The old man who sat beside me at the pavilion was having an argument with the officer.

"I'm sorry to hear about your (close relative), and I do hope she makes a recovery soon," the officer said in very calm voice.

"But, I have here..." the man rebutted.

The officer interrupted the man, "I'm sorry but you are not qualified."

Attempting to bargain, the man said, "But..."

Then the officer raised his voice, saying, "Sir! I said I'm sorry but you are not qualified!"

At that moment I prepared myself for the worst. I somehow thought I would get a big fat denial this time for the simple reason that the officer was in a bad mood. I know it may be unprofessional, but it happens in a lot of different embassies, considering the volume of applicants they receive.

As I set down my fold in front of the window, the officer asked with an very intimidating voice, "What is the purpose of your visit?"

"I would like to take some examinations, specifically Test B1 and Test C," I replied.

He started typing immediately and while doing so, said, "I need to see your previous visa." He then immediately followed up, "How many times have you been to (his country)?"

"Twice," I said.

I thought he wanted to see my first visa so I reached into my folder then dropped my old passport into the hole. "My previous visa is on my current passport that's with you. Here is the old one."

He immediately grabbed my current passport, flipped it open and asked, "What exam are you taking again?"

"Exams B1 and C, sir."

"What? But it says here you already took exam B!"

"Um, that was Exam B2. And it says right there on my previous visa. I would like to take B1 and C this time," I said calmly.

He then faced his computer again and without looking at me asked, "Oh.... Um, and did you pass?"

"Yup. Wanna see my results?"

"Right." He said, without interrupting his typing.

I reached into my folder again and as soon as I was ready to drop my score report on the hole where my old passport still was, he said, "Sir, your visa has been approved."

There was a second of silence on my part and I could not believe what he just told me. In my disbelief, I replied, "I thought you wanted to see my score?"

"We don't need that now. You can go and arrange for the delivery with the courier."

"Okay, so I'm done?"

"Yup, just go to the courier."

"Thanks. Have a nice day."

He smiled, "You, too!"

I can't believe I was done in less than five minutes!

I got my visa today and it's a multiple entry good for X number of years! Now I have to study hard for these [two] exams!.

Dead Weight

I woke up this morning quite late as I've been up late last night reading for my exam. As I prepared myself some breakfast, my aunt (sister of dad) came up to me and said I should pay my grandfather's sister a visit. A distant aunt had mentioned to her over the phone that my grandmother had complained of headache the night before and that the caregiver had a hard time lifting her to the toilet. Those problems aren't really new so I wasn't really that worried, but I knew I should pay her a visit as I hadn't done so in a very long time. And she lives just two blocks anyway.

So as I spread garlic butter on my toast that morning, I just nodded at my aunt. That was supposed to be the end of our conversation. But she kept going, "This might be dead weight!"

"Huh? Dead what?" I said

"Dead weight! Dead weight!" She was frantic.

"What are you talking about?" I was really irritated at that point. I knew she was talking about another one of her magical or mystical beliefs again. You see, my aunt is a spinster, a former nun and has a schizotypal personality. Yes, the type who believes in mysterious spirits and demons lurking in dark places to prey on children. She claims to have performed some exorcisms. She claims to be well-versed on the doctrines of the Church yet her beliefs are compatible only with those from the time of the Inquisition.

"You don't know about dead weight?" Yes, she was now questioning my medical education.

"What are you talking about? It's the first time I've heard that term used on a person." In my head, I kept thinking of this empty container on a weighing scale. An internet search later revealed that dead weight and empty weight are not synonymous.

"It is when a person is about to die, she cannot be lifted from her deathbed by any number of able-bodied persons. One of your distant uncles...that happened to him before he was pronounced dead. It is a sign of impending death."

Three seconds of silence followed. I did not know whether to laugh, or cry in pity for my poor aunt who keeps clinging to her otherworldly beliefs. She has her own dictionary in her head, apparently. And it would be of no use to bring her to a Psychiatrist. She believes that they are rogue people pretending to know how to exorcise demons.

I paid my grandmother a visit and it turned out she just had a neck muscle strain and mild constipation. I instructed the caregiver and asked them to update me about her progress.

But I really don't know what to do with my aunt. For the past 20 years, she has refused to work because she believes she will one day unearth tons of gold, or just wake up with billions deposited in a yet to be opened bank account. Mind you, she used to be a very successful personnel manager. But something must have happened when she started attending all those charismatic seminars. She is dead under the weight of her own beliefs.