I Am Now Free to Move About the Planet...

...or, at least, I hopefully will be in four to six weeks.

Yesterday (though it will probably be the day before yesterday by the time I get this post published), I applied for a United States passport for the first time. I was already expecting it to be a mild adventure (because, let's face it, pretty much every trip to the county courthouse is), but it ended up being quite a bit more complicated than I was expecting.

So, before we get any further into this post, I'd like to thank the county recorder for being so sweet and helpful and not getting irritated with my dumb self and all the mistakes I made during the application process.

Alright, so, getting a passport for the first time seems like a relatively-straightforward process. You find the form at travel.state.gov, either print it out blank or fill it out online and then print it out, and then take the form, a proof of citizenship and a photocopy of the same (such as a certified birth certificate), an official ID and a photocopy of the same (such as a driver's license), and the appropriate fees to your county courthouse (either with or without an appropriate photo, depending on whether or not your county courthouse has photo equipment available onsite). Now, to be fair, some of the information I missed out on may have been present somewhere on the site and I was just too focused on the form to notice it, or it might not have been present to begin with; I'm not certain. What I am certain of is that I wish the site had made the information I missed out on more easily noticeable or included it in the list of directions at the end of the form-filling process (assuming it was present at all).

First of all, at least in my county, it turns out you're supposed to set up an appointment before applying for a passport for the first time. I did not know this, so I sat in line behind a gentleman who was renewing his passport and noticed the sign saying "first-time passport applicants, please make an appointment ahead of time" and thought, "Oh great, now I've had my parents drive me twenty-plus miles to the county courthouse for no good reason." Strike one on my part. Once the gentleman ahead of me had finished renewing his passport and collecting the papers he needed to mail into the government, I approached the counter with my folder full of passport application paraphernalia and led off with, "Can I please set up an appointment to apply for a passport?"

The kind recorder told me she didn't have any other appointments at the moment, so as long as I had all the forms and items I needed, I could go ahead and apply right then. Cool, possible "disaster" number one averted. She looked through my papers and made a different photocopy of my learner's permit, since the one I provided cut off a tiny bit (but I blame that on my copier, not myself). She remarked as she looked through my application that wow, I was planning on being in Japan for quite a long time (the application asks for the approximate dates of your planned trip outside the country and a list of countries you're planning on visiting). I replied that I'm spending a semester abroad, which she found really cool. After verifying I had all the papers I needed, she let me into the office so we could take my passport photo, at which point I set my cardboard portfolio of papers down on the counter--

--and somehow managed to put it in just the right place for the Walmart barcode on the front to be repeatedly scanned by the recorder's scanner and registered as an unknown barcode on her computer.

Oops. Strike two.

She kindly laughed and shoved it out of the way, and took me into the back room to get my photo taken. That thankfully went well, and also thankfully, I don't look nearly as likely to be a delinquent citizen as I do on my learner's permit (government cameras really do not like my face for some reason).

Then it turns out that there's a $10 fee for having your photo taken onsite, which totally makes sense, but which I was not aware of. Thankfully I had enough extra cash on my person that this wasn't an issue, but if I hadn't had extra cash, this would not have been my only problem.

So I headed back out into the hall and the county recorder double-checked my papers to make sure everything was in order while we waited for the photo to print. And then, she told me my total (which was $185; $110 to the Department of State for the passport book, $30 to the DoS for the passport card (used for easier access to Canada and Mexico), $35 for local processing fees for being a first-time passport applicant, and $10 for the photo).

All not an issue, except it turns out that the Department of State doesn't accept cash.

Which, to be fair, might be a fact that is totally obvious to most United States citizens, but it just absolutely stumps me. Why would a federal government organization not accept their own nation's legal tender? Why can I not just mail them $140 in cash? What is the logic here?

The county recorder kindly explained to me that while the local $45 could be paid in cash, the federal government's portion had to be either check or money order. Thanks to the fact that I don't have a checking account, that left me the option of a money order.

I'm a millennial (possibly Gen Z, the jury is still out on that one), whether that's a good thing or not, and so right up until I was yesterday years old, I didn't know how one went about getting a money order (I just assumed it was something you did at the bank, but apparently that's cashier's checks, which are apparently a totally different thing). I mean, the only times I ever heard about money orders were in the old (now defunct) American Girl and J.C. Penney's catalogs that I'd look through growing up when we got them three or four times a year. Mail orders could be paid for with check, credit card, money order, and even occasionally cash on delivery. But just because I knew if I wanted to get an exorbitantly-priced doll (which I did once) I could pay with a money order, didn't mean I knew what one was or how to get one.

Thankfully, before I could reveal my 90's kid's cluelessness, the county recorder was kind enough to tell me that you can get money orders at any US Post Office. And, also thankfully, she was going to be in for another forty-five minutes or so, so I was free to take my application papers and myself to the town Post Office, go buy a money order from one Uncle Sam branch to give to another Uncle Sam branch (since Uncle Sam won't take his own cash, apparently), and come back to finish the process.

Not having a money order to begin with and not knowing how money orders work? Strikes three and four on my part. Now I've got one out and my second batter isn't doing so hot, either.

So I went out to the car where my dad and brother were waiting (my mom and youngest siblings were at the local library waiting for us to finish and come get them), and explained the money order issue to my dad. He wasn't irritated at all and was perfectly willing to take me to the Post Office, except we didn't know where that was (we don't live in the county seat, after all, and in our hometown you can literally see the town Post Office from our yard). So I asked Siri to give me directions to the local Post Office, which cued up just in time to tell us that the destination was already on our left, just down the hill from the courthouse. Sweet. If I'd known it was so close, I probably would have just walked, but oh well. We'll only call that strike four and a half.

As I was getting out of the car, Dad told me that the Post Office would likely charge me a fee for getting a money order. Again, I had enough extra cash on me that this wasn't an issue, but it should still count as half a strike since I didn't plan ahead for it. Up to five strikes now; my second batter is about to be out too if he doesn't get lucky soon. Two strikeouts in a row is not a good start to a ballgame.

Inside the Post Office, I walked inside the store part of the building and jumped about two feet in the air when a motion sensor buzzer went off really loudly to announce my arrival. About a minute later, a lady came out to assist me. I saw a sign that said "money orders," so I went to go stand by that register, only to be called to a different register. Strike five and a half. I explained to the lady that I needed a money order, which she laughed at and asked if I'd ever gotten one before. I blushed and admitted that I hadn't. She replied "That makes sense; you're so young." Well, the extra fees were only a dollar and change, and then I was the proud (extremely temporary) owner of a money order, which I filled out there at the Post Office counter (using Google on my phone to find the address of the US Department of State because of course I don't just happen to have that memorized).

Back out to the car and back up the hill to the county courthouse, sitting at five and a half strikes. Dad parked the car and I went back into the building. Of course, by this time, the photo had finished printing, and the county recorder was able to staple it to my application form. She gave me the typical declaration of "if you lied anywhere on this form, even by accident, you will probably die" (hyperbolic, but you know what I mean), and pointed me to where I needed to sign. I did, and gave her all the relevant papers, the money order, and the cash for the local fees.

And then it turned out that I wasn't getting my birth certificate back, at least, not yet. Now, I don't know about you, but I only have one certified copy of my birth certificate lying around (well, now I have none). But while they only need a photocopy of your ID (which makes a lot of sense, since how on earth would you get back from the courthouse if the government requisitioned your driver's license for four to six weeks), they take both your proof of citizenship and the photocopy to send in to the feds. Now, again, in hindsight, this makes a lot of sense. This way if they need to see any watermarks or anything, they can (those things don't show up in a photocopy, after all). But I wasn't expecting it, and now I don't have a certified copy of my birth certificate available, and won't until around a week after my passport book arrives in the mail (thankfully, they do send it back when they're finished with it). While I'm not planning on needing it between now and then, I think this still probably counts as another half strike.

Six strikes. Two outs. Hooray for the home team.

Thankfully, after all that, my application was good to go (and I didn't even have to mail it in like I was expecting; for first-time applications the courthouse mails it for you). Whether or not my third batter got a home run or not, I don't know yet, and won't until my passport gets here in a few weeks. I'm not expecting there to be any issues, though, so soon I should hopefully have an electronically-chipped pile of paper that will allow me to legally leave this country and enter another.

So, to sum things up (or TL;DR):

If you're planning on getting a US passport for the first time, you will need:

1: The appropriate application form, filled out but NOT signed, available from travel.state.gov.
2: A proof of citizenship and a photocopy of the same (which you will not get back until a week after you receive your passport book).
3: An official ID and a photocopy of the same.
4: A check or money order, payable to the United States Department of State, for $110 (if you're getting just a passport book), $30 (if just a passport card), or $140 (if both).
5: $35 (by check, money order, or cash) for local processing fees, and $10 if you're planning on getting your photo taken onsite.
6: An appointment at your county courthouse's recorder's office (this may or may not be required in your county; I'm not sure, but it never hurts to check).
7: Four to six weeks of turnaround time (though it can be made shorter if you pay additional fees). Remember, you're going to need this passport to be able to fill out other necessary forms and complete other necessary processes to study abroad, so make sure to give yourself plenty of time to get it.

Hopefully my mild misadventure will turn out to be helpful and informative to someone else. Thankfully, as far as I can tell, everything turned out fine (and as I said at the beginning, the recorder was very sweet, kind, and understanding, and never made me feel like I'd done anything wrong). I guess in four to six weeks, I'll know for sure.

Point A is (tentatively) reached and completed. Kansai Gaidai, I am on my way.

The Countdown Begins: T-Minus Six Months and Counting

初めまして！"Hajimemashite," "Hello (when meeting someone for the first time!)"

My name is Elizabeth Roop, though you can call me Liz if you like. I'm a junior English and History double major at Morningside College in Sioux City, IA, though come next January, I plan to spend a semester as a student at Kansai Gaikokugo Daigaku (Kansai Gaidai for short) in Hirakata, Japan. I've already been accepted by my home college for study abroad (and have been ever since December 2017, actually), but there's still quite a bit left to be accomplished before I leave for a new school and a new country. From getting my passport, to applying for a visa, to arranging a homestay, to registering for classes, to continuing to strengthen my Japanese skills, to getting a plane ticket, I have a lot of things I have to get done over the next six months before I'll be ready for my four and a half months abroad.

And besides all of the obvious things listed above, there are a lot of other things I'm gonna have to make sure to get done before flying overseas. Public WiFi isn't as common in Japan as it is in America, so I'm gonna need to make sure to sign up for a pocket WiFi provider in order to be able to stay connected with friends and family back home. I'm going to need to make sure to sign up for a metro pass so I'll be able to commute from my homestay family's home to school (and hopefully get a fair bit of exploring done too). Oh, and I'm also gonna need to remember to apply for the Gilman Grant (a government-funded study-abroad grant often provided to recipients of the Pell Grant, which helps students from a low-income background attend college), because, let's face it, studying abroad is expensive.

My point is, there is a lot on my plate right now, and I'm simultaneously excited and overwhelmed.

As an undergrad student tackling the tasks required to make it from small-town Iowa (my hometown has a population of 1100, and my college town has a population of around 83,000) to big-city Hirakata (a population of over 404,000), I've found myself wishing several times that there was a step-by-step guide to getting from Point A (passport), to Point B (visa), and so on to Point Z (arriving in Japan and starting the alphabet all over again). Sure, it's not too terribly hard to find online guides for each individual task, but wouldn't it be nice to have observations and tips for each stage of the process all in one place? That, my friends, is the current goal of this blog: to track my experiences at each step of the journey, all the way from The Little Town in a Cornfield to Kansai Gaidai. As I figure out and can check each stage of the process off of my to-do list, I'll take notes about what was required to get it done, and what I wish I had known beforehand. In this way, I hope to create a helpful resource for any other students planning to study in Japan.

But what happens to the blog once I actually get to Japan? Why, I'm so glad you asked! At this point, the hope is that I'll continue to update the blog at least once weekly with a record of my experiences up to that point and/or an explanation of different parts of Japanese culture that I find fascinating, cool, exciting, or even straight-up disconcerting (I'm preparing for a healthy dose of culture shock, despite all the time I've spent researching the nation and culture over the past almost-seven years). Once I make it overseas, the blog's title will be slightly changed to read "An Iowa Girl in Japan." Of course, we've still got a long way to go until then, at least when it comes to everything that has to happen first. Time-wise, as the title of this post suggests, I'm planning to take off for Japan on January 16, 2019, exactly six months from today (which is partially why I decided to set up and start this blog when I did). Of course, it's easy to start a project when you're on summer vacation and don't have too terribly many demands on your time. Junior year might keep me from updating as often as I'd like, but I'll definitely do my best to make this blog as helpful and interesting of a resource as I can.

Oh, and if you're wondering about the title: "ヘンナ外人," or Henna Gaijin, is a Japanese term that means "strange foreigner," and can be used to describe those odd foreigners who actually know quite a bit about Japanese culture (and thus hopefully can avoid many of the typical embarrassing lost-tourist mistakes culture shock can lead to). My hope is to actually be able to earn this moniker, so I'm using it as my blog title in the hopes that it will actually turn out to be the truth. If it doesn't, the blog title might end up changing later, but for now, I thought it'd be a cool/quirky title that would help my humble little blog stand out a bit in the limitless realm that is the internet.

A last couple of notes: This actually isn't my first foray into the blogosphere. If you'd like to read more of my writing, you can check out my other (tentatively-completed) blog, Naturally Observant, at naturallyobservantblog.blogspot.com. This blog was written for an English class this past spring semester, and focuses on nature and my place therein. And lastly, if you have any questions or comments for me, you can tweet me @starrymisfit.

Thank you for reading, and I look forward to sharing my experiences (and hopefully some helpful advice) with you going forward!

宜しくお願いします！"Yoroshiku onegai shimasu," a phrase said at a first meeting which means something like "let's work together" or "let's be kind to each other!"

--エリザベス ("Erizabesu," "Elizabeth")