There is no point in describing how much time each student spends filling out the DS, whether it's a missed line or a forgotten checkbox. But such problems can be easily handled with the help of a coordinator and an internet cafe, where I had to run about 5 times to get everything perfect. I think it's worth starting from that very day when I went for my visa, a day that crept up so unexpectedly, and which will be described further...

February 10, 2010, 04:25

Today, in the literal sense of the word, history was being made—perhaps not the kind of great history that could affect everyone, but the history of my destiny and the destinies of those who, on the same day and at the same hour, found themselves before the threshold of the United States Embassy. But first things first...

The Almaty-Astana train stopped in the sleeping city at 4:10 AM. Karaganda greeted it coldly, with 30-degree frosts and a wind that turned this frost into a gusty, freezing storm. The conductor, having turned my ticket over in his chilled hands, glanced at my ID and immediately returned the documents to me with the words: "Thirteenth seat, please go ahead."

"Thirteenth seat? Wow!" flashed through my head—"a good number!" Looking once more at my parents standing on the platform, undoubtedly more confident in me than I was in myself, I entered the sleeping carriage. A few minutes later, the train started moving, carrying me away from my small hometown to the capital, toward new events and sensations that I had to go through that day. It is hardly possible to describe the state of a person who, in confusion, seems confident in their knowledge and wit, but understands the full seriousness of the upcoming event and how excitement can affect its outcome. Those who have experienced something similar will certainly understand. The train gradually picked up speed, and the sound of the wheels was soothing and made me sleepy, which is what the people in the same compartment as me were doing. I close my eyes. What could be simpler? You just need to mentally "play out" the whole situation in your head, "invent" the future, and it will have no choice but to happen. I have never suffered from a lack of imagination, so vivid pictures race through my head, leaving a feeling of satisfaction and peace: everything will be fine! There is no doubt about it!

• Do you mind? – someone's voice interrupted my "forecasting."
• Please.
  A venerable old man sits down opposite me with a cup of hot tea, and after asking who I am and where I am coming from, he decides that keeping me from being bored is his mission for today. It's true what they say, you never know what you'll hear on a train, and most importantly, how long a conversation can drag on. It was already light outside when the story about the last, seventh ancestor of his lineage was finished, and returning to the present, the aksakal began to scold his good-for-nothing grandson.

Astana, meanwhile, was also not very welcoming in terms of weather. I didn't hesitate, and after sitting in the waiting room for 30 minutes, I took a taxi and headed to the embassy. I needed to be there by 10, but those who arrived earlier were graciously let inside.

There is nothing terrible about handing over your belongings, going through the metal detector, and entering another room where students waiting to be called, and those who for some other reason were forced to apply for a visa, sat in rows on chairs. The most terrible and difficult thing was to maintain the calm I had prepared for in advance. Still, an unusual environment strongly affects the subconscious. I look at the guard opening the doors for me one after another (well, what a gentleman!) and come to the conclusion that he is saying something to me; it's a pity I didn't understand what. :-) Those waiting for their turn are looking at the "newcomer" out of boredom, and from the last row, someone's hand waves in greeting. Well, finally, someone I know! Alisa arrived an hour earlier and had already managed to get used to the new environment. This is the last wave of fear, which will be followed by either complete calm or uncontrollable panic. I sit down, and after exchanging a few phrases with my friend, I try to set myself on a positive note again. In some 30-40 minutes, I will finally know whether I will get a visa or not, and consequently, whether I will go to America, a place that my friends and I have only been dreaming about since we became participants in the program.

I look around at the people sitting there with interest. They all came here with the same goal as me. So where did the thought come from that I might be left without a visa? A consul's voice rings out, and a married couple jumps up from their seats and heads to the window. Standard questions: language proficiency, purpose of visit, relatives and friends in the States. Following them, a gray-haired old man was called to the window, who, nothing more, nothing less, requested a US visa to participate in athletic competitions among veterans. Good for him! I would like not to lose interest in life at his age. The old man was listened to carefully, and then, as in all previous cases, the consul said: "You will receive your visa by evening." An inspiring phrase! :-)

To boost morale, by the way, they play the same 5-8 minute clip in the embassy. The screen shows the happy faces of Americans of all ages, social classes, and nationalities who wave their hands in greeting and, with a smile, pronounce the cherished word that has magical power: Welcome! Welcome! WELCOME! And if watching this cheerful and positive video clip doesn't convince you of a successful outcome, then I don't know what else can help you. Perhaps only the charming smile of the consul?

Meanwhile, there are fewer and fewer people applying for a visa not through the program, and the guard informs us that we need to submit documents to window 1, and then go through the fingerprint scanning procedure. There should be no more than 3 people near the window. No problems here, all employees speak Russian, so it is necessary to clearly follow their requests and calmly wait for your turn. With a "traditional" 30-minute delay, the coordinator from the Astana Work & Travel office arrives, and at this time, the first students are already approaching the consul for an interview. For the first few seconds, we, sitting in anticipation, strain our ears to catch everything the consul is asking. No innovations among the questions: purpose of the trip, length of stay, place of study. The trickiest questions, in my observation, were those very questions that our coordinators tried so hard to draw attention to. Most students look questioningly at the consul and wave their whole hand in front of the scanner at his request to place their index (or other) finger on the scanner. In such a case, Mr. A. Or patiently repeats his request in Russian. Therefore, there is no need to get upset if such a blunder happens. The question “What do you study?” caused no less difficulty, although students who had completed a consultation with the coordinator easily reported the list of subjects and disciplines that occupy their time at universities. After listening to the answers of several students, we calm down: everything is not so bad. The streak of luck ends after my friend leaves the room with eyes shining with happiness. No, don't think that anyone was denied a visa. It's just that the consul mysteriously disappeared, and for 40 minutes we were deprived of the opportunity to hear his voice. The reason for the consul's absence was explained to us only briefly, and there was nothing left to do but wait. Everyone knows that waiting is a great nervous tension. The students talked a little and joked that the consul had run off for lunch. And meanwhile, our coordinator entertained the bored travelers as best he could. We heard everything: where to live, where to work, what to fear, and what not to take to heart. No matter how you look at it, a person who knows something is not comparable to a person who has experience.

Time seemed to stand still when, like a ray of light in a dark kingdom, the consul's voice rang out, and the whole crowd of those waiting sighed with relief and joy. The next student (or to be precise, a student) headed to the window. The interview does not last long, only 5-7 minutes. And those students who have already been abroad or have relatives and friends in the USA faced a longer conversation. Longer does not mean difficult. Therefore, there is no need to hide any facts of your biography.

There were 5 people left in line before me. Am I worried? Yes, absolutely. One after another, students move away from the window. 4 people left, 3, 2... And finally, I hear my name in an "American accent." Now it is not days, not hours, not minutes that separate me from the interview, but some 15 seconds, during which I manage to approach the window. And why didn't any of the students smile, as the coordinators taught us? But I want to laugh!

• Hello! How are you?
  Honestly, the consul was somewhat embarrassed that for the first time all day someone was interested in his affairs, so like a true American, he answers that everything is fine, but after a pause. Perhaps that is why I, reveling in my joy, missed which finger to put on the scanner, but this error remains unnoticed. Mr. Alexander Or, a short young man with light hair and cheerful eyes, nimbly clicks the keys and sorts through my documents. At the same time, he asks a few more questions, and then sets my passport aside and returns my documents, informing me that the passport with the visa will be handed over to the coordinator. Taking the documents and responding to the wish for a good day, I move away from the window, which had been the focus of my attention for the last 2 hours. That’s it! Fast, without problems and unnecessary worries. The DS 2019, which must remain with the coordinator, immediately evaporates from my hands, and I return to my seat, get dressed, and wishing the remaining students good luck, I leave.

There is a taxi standing by the embassy building, called by someone and apparently forgotten. You cannot park near the embassy, and the guard is trying in vain to convince the driver of this, who in turn does not want to lose a client. Another student leaves the embassy with me, who immediately convinces me to go to the station in this very "ownerless" taxi. Which is what we do.

Here is the Astana-Karaganda bus. On the way home, I think a lot (what else is there to do?) about what makes me and other students so worried on the day of the interview. Self-doubt? No, maybe fear of something new. And I must say, this is a pleasant excitement that is worth experiencing at least once in a lifetime, because such a first time will never happen again. You just need to believe in the best, not doubt your abilities, and luck will definitely smile at you in the person of the United States consul :-)