Leaving my fingerprints behind

I’d completed a visa application form, answering questions such as the purpose of my visit (tourism) and the details of my passport.   I’d been waiting to complete the form for a while, but had to wait for confirmation from our hotel with a reference number to be quoted on the application.  The hotel confirmation had to bear the seal and signature of a certified person and was unique to me: my Hero, Edward and Amy each needed a similar document to accompany their applications.

Just whose idea was it to go to St Petersburg for the weekend anyway?  (He has owned up).

Having completed all the necessary questions about my background, where and when I went to college, where I have worked and who was in charge there, I then needed to find three bank statements to support my application and prove that I have enough funds for the days I will be in the country.

OK.

No problem.

But “Have you travelled to any other countries in the last ten years?”

Ermmm.

“Please give details and use a separate entry for each visit”.

Starting with the most recent entry on my list (because, yes, of course, I have a record of such things) I took a deep breath and began with “USA Jan 30 – 4 Feb 2017”, adding a new box after each entry. After 20 visits and half way down the first page of my list, it fell over. 

I took the print out with me when we presented ourselves at the visa application office last Monday morning.

These appointments in London are getting to be a bit of a habit, aren’t they?  Though this one did not offer the facility of an appointment – merely a queue.  The office opens daily at 8.30am so in true Heroic fashion, we turned up at about 7.50am, to find ourselves 5th and 6th in line.

The process was actually quite slick and involved a five minute “interview” at a counter in post-office-like surroundings.  We’d been given numbered tickets on arrival, so were called to the counter almost immediately and documents checked, fingerprints taken and money paid (oh yes…) this part was remarkably easy, except for one thing.

Have you ever tried putting both thumbs down, side by side (for fingerprinting) in the middle of a flat surface?

Our reward for an early start was a visit to the Royal Academy, where there were two exhibitions we fancied.  Being in a Russian frame of mind, we began with the Revolution, a wonderfully designed exhibit where the layout and staging of the works on show was so very much in keeping with the art itself.  Some of the art was familiar – in style and tone if not as a specific piece.  The political posters and propaganda were so much of their time, though reading the details alongside individual pieces gave enough background information to provoke another look and further consideration.

Some work was rather brutal, other rooms appeared more hopeful at first, though once more the awful truth was not far away.  In fact, there was very little to warm the soul or to inspire optimism, which doesn’t mean I didn’t enjoy the art itself. 

It’s just that the reality isn’t always as much fun as it might appear, is it?

I’m not altogether sure that America After the Fall offered a vision of fun either!  We’d seen Grant Wood’s American Gothic a couple of times in its home in the Chicago Art Institute and I believe I’d seen some of the other works on show in other locations as well: the Georgia O’Keefe and Edward Hopper pieces in particular.  I hadn’t realised that this was the first time American Gothic had travelled outside North America, though, which could explain why this gallery was so crowded.  The number of people in these small gallery rooms made it tricky to really appreciate some of the work on show and we didn’t stay long.  Three faces remained with us long after we left though – again, painted by Grant Wood

Though I’ve never seen the painting before, I feel as if I know those women so well.  I wonder which WI they belong to? 

Approval

We each had an appointment at the Embassy today.

It’s been a long time coming and there were times when we didn’t think we’d make it at all.

We completed all the forms months ago, submitting them first to the UK authorities and having received their approval, applied to the US Customs and Border Protection agency for “trusted traveler status”.  Having passed that round of checks, we each had to book an interview.

Except there were no available appointments in London before Christmas.  Oh, and the booking had to be made within a very tight timescale. 

How about Los Angeles in January?  No appointments available.

Miami in February?  No appointments available.

We randomly selected two adjacent slots in Boston in June knowing full well we wouldn’t be there then, but at least we’d hold our application open.  Then, in late December, we each had an email with a list of dates in February for London interviews.  Phew.  We snagged two as quickly as we could, before they were all booked up too.

So this morning, we made our way to Grosvenor Square where we presented ourselves and all the necessary papers to a couple of immigration officers in adjacent cubicles.  Though we were asked broadly the same questions, my officer showed a little more interest in one particular page of my passport.

“What’s this?”

It was the arabic translation of my passport details we needed for Edward’s birthday jolly to Libya a few years ago.

“Why did you go there?”   

I answered that our son was an historian with a love of Roman history and we went to see Leptis Magna.

“Have you seen since then?”

No.

“Will you be going again?”

No.

“I’ve approved your application.” 

Phew.

Having had our fingerprints and mugshot recorded on their system, we each have a Global Entry membership number which will not only allow us to skip the lengthy immigration and customs queues when we next visit the USA, but also pass swiftly through the pre boarding security process without taking off our shoes, belts and so on.

I am a trusted traveler!    (Well, I prefer to think of myself as a traveller of course )

Mind you, on the way there we’d passed some pretty clever window displays on Piccadilly, in Waterstone’s bookshop.

They are actually promoting a book written in the 1930s, though anyone passing by could be forgiven for mistakenly taking this as a marketing campaign for a new publication.  For sure, it caught our attention and will surely have the same effect on others passing by.

Of course, bearing in mind our destination, we were on our best behaviour and were passing no comment!

A day in London is always a great opportunity to spot small curiosities, though.  Like this sign.  I wonder how long it has been there and if it is still in use?  If it rings, do you think someone will call the police?  I hope so!

I liked this surprisingly wordy sign in a window nearby.

Whilst in Selfridges, you wouldn’t be surprised to hear that my eye was caught by the title of this magazine.  At £10 a copy, I felt it was rather more than “lagom” so left it there, with those incredibly ugly coffee cups.  Ugh.  Who on earth would want to drink from those?

Best of all was the sight of this gentleman stepping out on what was a very chilly morning indeed, dressed in this gloriously coloured coat.  My photograph doesn’t do him – or his coat – justice because by the time I got my camera out of my pocket, he was almost gone.  But on a Winter morning, who could not be cheered by wearing such a colour?

Brave man though!

We need a bigger basket

By the computer in our music room, there’s a basket of stuff.  Not just any old stuff, you understand, but treasured stuff. 

Memories.

You know how much I treasure those.

This morning, I finished transferring all the photographs from our most recent adventure to a USB stick, tied it to a few bits and pieces (our suite card from the cruise, an hotel key card, the top from a bottle of Nicaraguan beer and a bag of Guatemalan worry dolls) and took it upstairs to the basket, where I balanced it carefully on the top.

As I did, I thought of the cartoon I shared in the previous blog post, of the last hippo joining a small and already overcrowded boat, because as I picked the basket up, a couple of things fell off the carefully balanced arrangement.

So I tipped out the whole basketful and as I replaced it all, I took another look though.  There are little rings and bundles of all kinds of stuff.  Some, like this one, are crammed full of tickets and cards, happy memories of lovely days in Ireland in this case. 

Some simply have a label and a few ribbons.

This one doesn’t even have a label, but I know immediately where it came from.  The tell tale signs of a Japanese trip are there on the single common feature of every one of those bundles.  A USB stick of photos.  A little stick that fits neatly into the PC right beside it to provide a couple of hours entertainment in the form of a slide show.  If I’m home alone, or at a loose end, it’s fun to pull a random ribbon from the basket, plug it in and to be transported to some fun times again.  It’s a rather more passive way of enjoying the stories than looking through journals and it’s a much more efficient way of storing all those photographs than the boxes (and boxes) of prints we keep meaning to go through and sort out.

It used to be that a 2mB stick would suffice.  Then, I began to find that I needed a bit more capacity and began to buy 8mB sticks for the purpose.  This time, I could only squeeze everything onto a 16mB stick by omitting a few things here and there.  I think I’d better buy 32mB sticks next time.

And a bigger basket.

Enough

When I began my blog and was looking for a name, I hit upon the phrase frequently used by my Hero’s Grandpy.  After a meal, he’d sit back in his chair, release some imaginary air from each cuff (not well explained but no matter) and declare that he had enjoyed “an elegant sufficiency”.  A few years previously we had been through a life-changing experience which caused us to reflect on our priorities and one word seemed to crop up frequently.

Enough.

Whenever I thought of the word, I remembered a poster which hung on the wall at a school where I taught and thanks to the wonders of Google, I did a quick search and bingo!  there it was here!  More is most certainly not always better and then, as now, enough sums it up nicely.

Can I ever have enough ice cream though?    (photo taken in Azugar last week)

This morning, I came across the word Lagom.

I appreciate, I’m behind a bit here.  I wasn’t reading the papers last month when lagom was declared as the Scandi trend taking over from but not as much fun as hygge.  So forgive me when I explain that I just came across this blog post here this morning

Yes!  An Elegant Sufficiency! 

Is it time to embrace the newest, latest trend then and rename my blog Lagom?

I don’t think so.  I’ll just continue to live my life in the same elegantly sufficient style as I always have done.  It’s good to think that the rest of the world is catching on, though

Finishing as we began

The best part of this adventure has been that we started it and finished it in the company of dear friends.  One of the attractions of the Explorer cruise was that it would enable us to catch up with those on both sides of this vast country; people who we don’t see so very often but where we simply take over where we left off, however long ago it was we were together.

Yesterday, we laughed, cried and talked non stop at home with Jane and Allan.  We remembered funny times which will stay with us forever.  We shared stories of more recent travels and caught up with news of family and friends.

We ended the day with a wonderful dinner at Kaluz, arriving in the dark so not noticing the waterside location until a huge yacht pulled up outside.  As we have done rather frequently during the last few weeks, we said our goodbyes and promised to see one another again soon, on one side of the ocean or another.

Waking up in Miami this morning, one last time, we acknowledge that now, we are ready for home.  We’ve deliberately left a great modern art museum to visit today, before we drop off our rental car at the airport and begin the return journey.

Hard to imagine how eager we are to swap palm trees and sun loungers for ice, cold winds and dark February days.  Not so hard to imagine that when we factor in seeing our family, wearing different clothes, sleeping in our own bed and normal life, whatever that might be. 

Because, part of that is having a lovely family and home and friends to return to, isn’t it?