In Continuum.

That in the picture is the American Embassy in Singapore, and if you think that it looks like a cross between a federal prison and a bomb shelter, you are exactly right. I have just returned from this place, and I can tell you that you cannot drive a tank into the walls of this building at all. The American Embassy was built, it seems, to endure a nuclear attack, and it seems to have been built not just to keep people out, but to also keep people in. This giant grey monstrosity of a building is located just down the road from Tanglin Mall, and you'd probably notice it while you are driving by in your car. Out from the crowns of trees that encircle this place, a tall dark and looming architecture rises out from the ground like a dark castle from a fantasy novel. I remember passing by this place a couple of times in the past, and it has always reminded me of a creation of some amateur writer, trying to create the perfect lair from his evil villain of a Harry Potter rip-off. I am, by no means, trying to say that this place is an evil place. In fact, it is actually a place populated by many friendly people who attended to my VISA application today. It's just the design of the building, and how it seems somewhat intimidating to me as I stood there at the guard house this morning, waiting for Liz to meet me.

So I went for my VISA interview today as scheduled, and the rain in the morning didn't make the trip there very easy for me. I was nervous about being late, since we've heard about how the people at the embassy are. I mean, from the news, you know how embassies are always the target of terrorism and stuff like that, so naturally the people there were rather jumpy about, well, everything. On the website, it clearly states that you cannot carry any large bags, or anything that isn't necessary into the building itself. That means that at the guard room, your cellphone and your iPod would be taken away, and you are basically only allowed to go into the embassy with just a stack of paper - that's it. In the queue, you are going to see this sign right in front of you that tells you what to bring and what not to bring, and it is quite a long list. Anything that transmits, anything that uses a battery, they are probably not going to be allowed in there, so that's gonna be a problem. Anyway, so I arrived there and waited for Liz for a while since she alighted a stop earlier than she was supposed to. We waited in line, and I was just telling her how rigid the place seems to be when a couple of employees checked in. Surprisingly, despite the looks of the building from the outside, they all seemed like really nice people. One lady looked like she could grow old with a house full of cats, so I guess that is a good thing.

I passed my bag through a scan, stepped through a metal detector, and my cellphone was given to the security. Then I had to step through a door which probably weighed like a ton or something. In the embassy, it seems, no one was allowed to stand still for a very long time, because I kept being ushered from one checkpoint to another. It's not that I mind the whole security process, but it became a little annoying when they kept asking me to go into the building when I was clearly waiting for my friend to finish her security checks. Anyway, I moved, but I moved really slowly up the long walkway towards the lobby, or at least it seemed like one. Again, when we came to the lobby, there was this huge door that seemed impenetrable by a rocket, and it was funny how there was a sticker on top of the handle that said "press the lever and pull", as if it was the easiest thing in the world to do. Unassumingly, I did as I was told, and the door felt like it could have crushed a mini-van or something like that. It wasn't too heavy for me, but I certainly didn't expect it to weigh that much. Anyway, by the time we got into the lobby (which was oddly quiet), another security greeted us with a somewhat creepy smile. He asked us where we were headed, and I told him about our VISA application. With a crooked smile, he pointed us to the room behind us. If it was indeed a creepy castle of a villain we entered, he must have been the creepy butler that answers the door.

After we got our queue numbers, we met Joyce and Ting Ting inside, and we immediately went for the photo booth that was in one corner of the room. Anyway, Liz went into the booth first, and the booth started talking once she was in there while I waited outside. From behind the curtain, I could hear the machine asking her to press buttons, and then there was a shuffling of her feet, and then the sound of metal clashing together coming from the inside. Then the curtain opened, and she asked if I could help her adjust the stool. Apparently, there must have been a midget who took a photograph before us, because the stool was set up so high that normal human beings weren't able to take a picture properly. But I didn't see any way in which we could have adjusted the stool, so she had to resort to a half squat inside the photo booth, which isn't exactly the most comfortable position you want to be in when you want to take a formal shot of yourself. If Liz couldn't fit into the red circle that was indicated on the screen itself, I wasn't going to get anywhere near it. In fact, the top of the circle which we were supposed to fit our face into really only reached somewhere between my upper lip and my nose, and I really had to anchor myself to the front of the photo booth in a strange half squat in order to take a picture.

Every time the camera took a picture inside the booth, Liz would go "ouch" as if the machine was eating her up or something. I later on suspected the photo booth to be a racist machine, since the stool was set up to be so high. You know, the common stereotype that Asians are smaller than Americans, which was why the stool was set to be that high - for small Asian people! Apparently, Joyce didn't have much of a problem sitting on the stool, so that goes to show how tall I am (or, how short she is). Anyway, the photograph was developed in eighteen seconds flat, and I looked like death. Two photographs were taken inside the machine, and we were supposed to pick the better picture out of the two. I hated my face in the first one, but the second picture showed my arms behind my back, trying to balance myself on the stool. It was a hilarious pose that looked like I was falling halfway down the chair or something. And, don't even get me started on that half smile on my face, because we weren't really allowed to smile. I felt awkward not smiling, so I gave an in-between smile, which made me look like a deer in the headlights, kinda thing. I really wanted to go for dazed and confused, but apparently even that expression is against US policies.

Now, when you get to the American Embassy to apply for VISA, the first thing you want to do is to go to the first counter and submit pretty much everything that you have. If you do encounter this malay lady at the counter, be warned - she is a badass. Liz went up to the lady first, and she pretty much commanded her to give her all the documents. Then came a point when Liz didn't have all the documents (she forgot this page with the barcode), and the lady simply said "I'll deal with you later" and brushed her off. Then it was my turn, which went on relatively smoothly since I had pretty much everything. Still, I found it interesting how the only unfriendly person in the building was a local. I mean, as creepy as the security dude was, he was still polite and friendly, you know. Anyway, Liz was told that there's an internet cafe upstairs, and that she could get that page printed there. Apparently, there isn't an internet cafe upstairs, and she had to take a cab all the way to Far East to do so - great. I got my cashier's report done, and I sat there and waited for our turns to come. It was a long long wait, and we pretty much entertained Joyce with what went on in school while she was gone, and what will happen to us in America.

If you take some time to look around the place, you are going to notice a couple of things. There aren't a lot of windows, and there are a lot of cameras. I have a feeling that all of us were being monitored by people in a small room with a dozen screens, changing from one camera feed to another every ten seconds or something. In fact, there was probably a surveillance camera within the photo booth itself, and the person watching us probably had a good laugh while we struggled with the stool. Anyway, I had a creeping suspicion that the metal door next to the photo booth would bust open if somebody stays in the queue for too long, or if anybody makes any kind of sudden and suspicious movement. I mean, that was the vibe I got from the whole place, a high-security facility with a whole lot of eyes staring at you constantly from everywhere. But of course, nothing is going to beat the MRT stations in Singapore, with probably a thousand cameras installed in every station, it is George Orwell's dystopia coming to life at a MRT station near you. It was a little uncomfortable sitting inside, and it wasn't helped by the fact that we weren't given a proper room for our so-called "interview".

The interviews were actually done at the counter itself instead of what we were expecting. You step up to the counter when your number is called, and an Asian lady with a thick American accent would ask you a series of questions from behind the window. What I had in mind was a dark room with a lamp, and a man in the shadows asking me some questions about whether I am a terrorist. It isn't me being racist, but I actually didn't want to use Naz's name for my VISA application form because his name has "Mohammad" in it. It's not because I am uncomfortable with it, but because they are uncomfortable with it. Anyway, in Liz's mind, she was expecting a room with milk and cookie, but we didn't get any of those. We pretty much stood up and went forward for our two minute interviews, and it was made easier for us since Joyce pretty much told her everything. It was a little different for me because I am only going for about four months while the rest are going for a little longer. The interviewer noticed this irregularity and asked me about it, and I told her that I'd be going for just one semester. Then she asked me what I'd do after my studies, and I promptly replied that I'd be coming back to Singapore, since I don't think they like to hear anything otherwise.

Then the question came as to if I'd continue my studies there, and I said "maybe". That answer caused the interviewer to stop what she was writing, and she looked up from the papers and straight into my eyes. She wasn't being stern or anything, but the sudden attention on me was a little strange. "What do you mean 'maybe'?", she asked, and I explained that I could drop a module during the summer or when I am over there in the fall, which means I'd have to take those modules in the spring if I have to. "Oh, to lighten the load!" she replied, and I smiled back at her. I didn't mention that if I am to take those modules, I'd be taking them back in Singapore next spring, because I really didn't want her to ask any more questions that could potentially cause my VISA application to be rejected. Students get off pretty easy I suppose, and it is not like I am going there for a very long time. I had my application approved, and I returned back to my seat as Liz waited for her turn. Over the P.A. system, the same malay lady announced to the crowd: Attention all VISA applicants. If your queue number has not been called yet, please proceed to counter one now". In between the word "yet" and the word "please", she actually hesitated for a while, and I actually thought that she'd say "please leave the building because you guys have all been rejected".

I can totally imagine that happening somehow. The moment she tells everybody to leave, men in black would burst through the metal door next to the photo booth and then drag all the people whose queue numbers have yet to be called, and then they'd be thrown onto black vans with a bag over the heads to be driven off into the middle of a forest. I really should stop thinking of that place as a dark and sinister place, and I really should look on the brighter side of things. I bet it has got to do with the building, and it really does say a lot about what the country is like. I am not a student of architecture, but you don't need to be one to understand if a building is welcoming or not. I mean, just look at the new shopping mall in the middle of Orchard Road. The Ion looks like a deflated balloon, and it isn't exactly a place I want to hang out with my friends, you know. Anyway, I also pictured trap doors to open beneath the feet of those whose VISAs have been rejected, and they'd fall through into a pile of bones below, impaled by spikes or something like that. OK, positive thoughts, positive thoughts. You have read too many books and watched too many movies. This is the mean-world complex at place here, I swear.

Anyway, like I said, I got my application approved, which means that all I have to do at this point is to return to that place on Monday to collect my passport with everybody else. I can't believe I have to go back to that castle again, but then it has been a rather unique experience for me. I mean, it's not like I have had the chance to deal with these immigration stuff on my own at all. The only times when I had to do anything of this nature would be to extend my passport's expiry date, which really involves a chop and that's about it. Besides, I am not exactly used to big sinister looking buildings like the one I was at today, or any other embassies really. I mean, if you drive down that stretch of road, you kind of realize that every country has their own little plot of land, with their own sinister looking castles. The American Embassy is just the biggest of them all, with a lot of spikes on the fences and a lot of high walls. I am not used to that, because the Taiwanese embassy, in contrast to all the other embassies, is merely an office space within an office building. It's not very glamorous, but it does what any other embassy does. It is adequate, and not nearly as intimidating - which is good I suppose. Anyway, that's what happened today, and I shall now take a short nap and welcome the fact that I do not have school tomorrow!

P.S. No, I am not posting my VISA photograph.