The rumors are true. After a little over 6 weeks, my passport arrived. However, after all of the trouble and cost of the visa application, a valid visa was not stamped into said passport. If only my name was SWMMA. Still confused? Here’s what happened: the Spanish Consulate spelled my first name wrong, so my visa is invalid. Shucks.
With all of the excitement of my visa FINALLY arriving, this mistake was comical at first. I mean, c’mon, HOW does this happen? It must be a joke. I literally gave them countless official documents that all have my name clearly spelled out on them. Nonetheless, the humor quickly faded and gave way to stress, as it soon became clear that I likely would not be able to board my booked flight to Spain in six days. It was time to once again brainstorm plans A, B, and C.
I first called the BLS. They were useless, and insisted that I go to the office in Boston. I contacted both the offices of Maine’s U.S. Representative, Chellie Pingree, and Angus King of the Maine state senate. I also did much googling and research on my own. All roads pointed to a third trip to the BLS office in Boston.
Luckily, I was able to move my doctor’s appointment and board the 6 AM bus from Portland to Boston the following day, Tuesday (5 days before the planned departure to Spain).
Honestly, thank goodness the bus hit heavy traffic and arrived in Boston an hour and a half late—otherwise, I would have been stuck waiting nearly two and a half hours for the supervisor at the BLS. Miraculously, my meeting with her was quite short. 10 minutes tops. Essentially, she informed me that she would go to the Consulate of Spain in Boston later that day to get me a certificate that would clarify their mistake, thus validating my (or Swmma’s) visa.
All to my surprise, Supervisor Emy emailed me the aforementioned certificate later that day. Even though it looks like an iPhone-scanned document I could have forged myself, the fact that I’m writing this post from Spain means it’s working so far.
Long story short, over the course of 22 hectic hours, my move to Spain was questioned, put on hold, and ultimately resumed. I then proceeded to spend the rest of the week packing, saying goodbyes, and planning tasks for my first week in Madrid.