Before I could finalize a flight, I had to get my work visa. In order to get my work visa.... I had to send over all sorts of documents, including a notarized and apostilled criminal background check. I didn't even know what an apostille was before this. For those of you blissfully unaware of such levels of buracracy, here is a detailed explanation.
Apostille: (noun) Additional authentication required for international acceptance of notarized documents including (but not limited to) adoption papers, addidavits, birth certificates, contracts, death certificates, deeds, diplomas, and degrees, divorce decrees, incorporation papers, marriage certificates, patent applications, powers of attorney, and school transcripts. Instituted by 'The Hague Convention Abolishing the Requirements For Foreign Public Documents' of verification by multiple authorities. As prescribed by the convention, an apstille (French for notation) is a preprinted small (minimum 9x9 cm) form having ten numbered items of information with blank spaces to be filled in by the designated authority in the issuing country. It is obligatory upon every signatory country to accept apostilles of the other signatory countries. The apostille is notarized by your home state's Secretary of State.
Yep. I am officially not a criminal. Also I graduated from college.
After getting through the masses of paperwork, I narrowed it down to my visa application, Notice of Appointment from the Korean Ministry of Education (MOE), my official contract, and...rather significant...my passport. I mailed that off Express mail on Thursday to arrive at the Korean Consulate General in LA on Monday.
Monday, I call the Korean Consulate. It's not there. By Friday, it's still not there. I call fifty million people at the Post Office to demand where the hell my passport is and, no, "It's somewhere floating in the mail system," is not good enough. I'm slightly worried, after all, I'm supposed to be in Korea that next Wednesday. In desperation, I make a final call to the consulate-- and it's there. Thank God. I'd be pissed if I lost my passport with its cool shiny visa stickers and an attached invitation from the Russian Embassy to visit Moscow (my old babysitter works at the Embassy now in HR).
I decide it's best to simply drive to LA, because now that I know where it is, I'm not risking losing it again. I can fly straight out from LAX.
I buy my ticket, proceed to have a quick panic attack, and begin my final preparations. I guess it's time to pack.
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