The Visa Line

I think that the visa line is one of the most interesting places on earth.  Here in Canada, we see every nationality in the world save two or three (including Canadians, if you can believe it).  Actually, I'm pretty sure the only passport I've never seen is that of North Korea.  Passports come in different sizes and hues, full of stamps and visas from places I've never been but hope to someday go.  Some passports have been well-used and even well-loved.  Some passports smell of incense and flowers, while some smell and appear that they've been dropped in the sewer once or twice; however, they all fascinate me. 

I love travel, hearing about travel, learning about foreign places.  There are so many countries that I never heard of before working in an embassy:  small islands like Seychelles, small African countries like Eritrea.  They don't teach you about those in World History class, but you hear all about them on the visa line.

We see every walk of life here, every culture, language, and manner of dress (and sometimes smell) imaginable.  I love to sit back and listen to people's stories of how they got here and what they do.  We see immigrants, asylees, new citizens, new-born babies, students--you name it, and we've seen it. 

The stories are what fascinate me the most.  People leave their homes for different reasons: to study, to find work, to escape oppression.  But, more or less, they're all looking for something bigger, brighter, better than home.  They're people like me in a sense: they wanted out and did it.   I think about the people and family they left behind.  Some send home money; some petition for family members to join them.  And some just pick up and leave without ever looking back.  A long time ago, I thought I'd be like that; but I was wrong.

Don't get me wrong because I had a great life in South Louisiana.  My family was close, we had more than enough of everything, and everyone was good about being good to each other.  But this travel bug bit me many years ago.  I didn't grow up living this international life, but I always wanted to.  I spent summers with my grandparents and got to see a lot of the southern United States that way, and I was very content with that for a while.  But, then, something changed when I turned seventeen. 

My high school offered a trip to Europe in conjunction with the local university.  We could earn college credit while touring places like Paris, Frankfurt, and Venice; and I got to go.  My life has never been the same.