Written at 3:20 P.M.
Right now I am sitting in the immigration office to let the Indian government know that I am in their country and will be here for the next three months. The immigration office is like any other federal building I’ve been to. The service is slow, there are long lines with lots of people, and the paint on the walls has been neglected. This not the first time I’ve been to this building; in fact it is the fourth. Each time I come here there is an issue. I have the wrong documentation, I have come at the wrong time, or the internet is malfunctioning.
But as I sit here in this office, I find it fascinating. In this room, which is no bigger than two dorm rooms, there are people who represent multiple countries. As I look around there are people from Africa, Germany, Norway, Iraq, etc. I talked to a Mormon missionary from Las Vegas, two Sudanese students, and a Nissan engineer from Japan while I was waiting. I feel blessed to be sitting among these people who come from all over the world. I could be frustrated and outraged at my situation, but I am taking it all in stride. It is not every day that I receive this opportunity. I am going to absorb every moment here, even if it is at the Indian Bureau of Immigration.