I'm off to the mighty John Hancock building. The Chilean guv'ment has decided to award me a special Visa card which will allow me to study in their country and buy things on credit. They don't give these to just anyone, either. You have to be HIV-Negative and financially secure, and you have to get a letter from the FBI saying you've never killed anyone (killing is not tolerated in Chile since the removal of Pinochet).
I am, readers will be glad to know, all of those things.
I'll embark on the noble Chicago Transit Authority's Green Line train and, in a matter of minutes, arrive at 875 N. Michigan Avenue in the City that Wind Built. I'll brush my teeth first, and tuck in my shirt so as not to offend the discriminating sensibilities of its citizens.
Update:
It's all work, work, work and "Serious Business" at the consulado. I got a stern warning to register with the International Police to discourage monkey-business and coxcomb-ery. But I also got the visa (which, it turns out, is only for entering the country, and not making purchases, but I'll take what I can get). All I need now are socks and a water purifyer.
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