Wednesday, February 17, 2016

Obtaining your US Passport

First Time Applicants

You Must Apply in Person If:

  • You are applying for your first U.S. passport; or
  • You are under age 16; or
  • Your previous U.S. passport was issued when you were under age 16; or
  • Your previous U.S. passport was lost, stolen, or damaged; or
  • Your previous U.S. passport was issued more than 15 years ago; or
  • Your name has changed since your U.S. passport was issued and you are unable to legally document your name change.

Before you start, please note:

1. Fill Out Form DS-11: Application For A U.S. Passport

  • Print Form DS-11 and complete by hand; or
  • Use our online guide to fill out and print Form DS-11.
Please note that you:
  • Must not sign the application until instructed to do so by the Acceptance Agent.
  • Must provide your Social Security Number in accordance with 26 U.S.C. 6039E.  Failure to provide information requested on the form, including your social security number, may result in significant processing delays and/or the denial of your application.

2. Submit Form DS-11: Application For A U.S. Passport In Person

You must submit Form DS-11 in person at an authorized Passport Application Acceptance Facility or Passport Agency.
NOTE: There are special submission requirements for All Minors Under Age 16.

3. Submit Evidence of U.S. Citizenship

When applying for a U.S. passport in person, evidence of U.S. citizenship must be submitted with Form DS-11.  Generally, documentation submitted as citizenship evidence will be returned to you. Returned documents will be delivered with your newly issued U.S. passport or in a separate mailing.
Primary Evidence of U.S. Citizenship (You must submit one of the following.  Photocopies and notarized copies are not acceptable):
  • Previously issued, undamaged, and fully valid U.S. Passport (5 year for minors or 10 years for adults)
  • Certified U.S. birth certificate (must meet all of the following requirements): 
    • Issued by the City, County, or State of birth
    • Lists bearer's full name, date of birth, and place of birth
    • Lists parent(s) full names
    • Has date filed with registrar's office (must be within one year of birth)
    • Has registrar's signature
    • Has embossed, impressed, or multicolored seal of registrar
    • Photocopies and notarized copies are unacceptable
  • Consular Report of Birth Abroad or Certification of Birth
  • Naturalization Certificate
  • Certificate of Citizenship

4. Present Identification

When applying for a U.S. passport in person, acceptable identification with photograph must be presented at the time of application.
Primary Identification (One of the following):
  • Previously-issued, undamaged U.S. passport
  • Certificate of Naturalization or Citizenship
  • Fully-valid Driver's License
  • Current Government Employee ID (city, state or federal)
  • Current Military ID (military and dependents)
NOTES:
  • If you cannot submit primary identification, please see Secondary Identification.
  • If you apply at an Acceptance Facility and submit out-of-state primary identification, you must present an additional ID document, as well. For example, if you apply in Maryland with a Virginia Driver's License, you must present a second ID containing as much of the following information as possible: your photo, full name, date of birth and the document issuance date.
  • If you have undergone or are going through gender transition, please see these additional requirements.

5. Submit a Photocopy of the Identification Document(s) Presented

Bring a photocopy of the front and back of each ID document that you will present when you apply.
  • Photocopy must be on plain white, 8 1/2 x 11" standard paper stock, showing the front and the back of your ID.
  • Photocopy must contain images on only one-side of each page submitted.
    • If copies cannot be made on the same side of one page, you may present two separate pages; one displaying the front of the ID and the second displaying the back of the ID.
  • The paper should be free of other images and/or markings.
  • The 8 1/2 x 11" paper size cannot be substituted with a larger or smaller size paper, even if the alternative folds down to the 8 1/2 x 11" size.
  • You may enlarge the image of your ID on the 8 1/2 x 11" page, but you may not decrease the size of the image.

6. Pay the Applicable Fee

Please see Passport Fees for a listing of current passport fees and acceptable methods of payment.
Please note - You will not be asked to provide credit card information on this site. The Department of State does not currently have the option to pay online for passport services, although this service may be offered in the future.

7. Provide One Passport Photo

You must provide one passport photo with your application.  Some passport acceptance facilities provide photo services for an additional fee.  To avoid processing delays, be sure your photo meets all the requirements and is properly submitted with your application.
  • When submitting Form DS-11 in person, your photo should not be attached to the form.
Important note:  
You may receive your newly issued passport book, newly issued passport card, and your citizenship documents in separate mailings. For more information visit our Frequently Asked Questions.

Bluefields, Nicaragua

A city at the mouth of the Escondido River and the Caribbean Sea, Bluefields is home to a large black settlement on the east coast of Nicaragua and is strongly associated with Black Creole culture.  Nicaragua has the largest population of African descent in Central America and approximately two-thirds of that group resides in and around Bluefields.  The black presence in the region goes back to the 17th century as Puritans from the English Providence Company began settling in and around Bluefields in the 1630s, bringing with them a population of enslaved Africans to work on plantations. Enslaved Africans from Jamaica later sought freedom in and around Bluefields in the 1700s and after British emancipation in 1834, the area became a destination for free blacks from across the British-controlled Caribbean. 



Historically Bluefields has been politically isolated from the rest of Nicaragua.  It was originally part of the British Protectorate of Mosquitia and ruled by the British-supported Miskitu Indians until 1894. In 1845, the Miskitu King relocated from Wasala to Bluefields, transforming the coastal community into the capitol of Mosquitia.  A number of blacks in the area rose to prominence as merchants and influential advisers to the King. 




In the late 19th century, multilingual Bluefields became a commercial boomtown due to trade with the United States.  The area produced bananas which were growing in popularity in North America.   English-speaking Creoles, as the persons of African descent now called themselves, had established an English language educational system distinct from Nicaragua’s Spanish language schooling.  In 1894, Nicaragua incorporated Mosquitia and Spanish replaced English as the official language in the region.  Mestizos also began to replace Creoles in positions of prominence and power. It would be nearly one hundred years before Bluefields would regain some of its historic autonomy from Nicaragua.  




On May 4, 1990, Bluefields became the capital of the South Atlantic Autonomous Region.  In this new role as a regional capital some of Bluefield's Creoles have again risen to positions of economic and political prominence.  In 2006, for example, Loria Raquel Dixon Brautigam became the first person of African ancestry elected to the Nicaraguan National Assembly. Loria Raquel Dixon Brautigam was elected to represent the North Atlantic Autonomous Region.






Boys Will Be Boys Videos.

 










How ‘Ugly’ Fruits and Vegetables Can Help Solve World Hunger

About a third of the planet’s food goes to waste, often because of its looks. That’s enough to feed two billion people.
Picture of imperfect-looking produce that will not make it to markets
Tristram Stuart has 24 hours to produce a restaurant meal for 50 people—to plan a menu, gather food, then welcome guests to a venue in a city not his own. Complicating what sounds like a reality-show contest is a singular rule: Nearly all the ingredients must be sourced from farms and vendors intending to throw them out.
After racing back to New York City from a New Jersey farm where he gleaned 75 pounds of crookneck squash deemed by the farmers too crooked to sell, Stuart bolts from a car creeping through traffic and darts into a Greenwich Village bakery. Tall and blond, with a posh English accent, he launches into his ten-second spiel: “I run an organization that campaigns against food waste, and I’m pulling together a feast tomorrow made with food that won’t be sold or donated to charity. Do you have any bread that we could use?” The bakery doesn’t, but the clerk hands him two broken chocolate-chip cookies as consolation.
Stuart flings himself into the car. His next stop: the Union Square farmers market, where he spies a chef wrapping fish in squares of brioche dough, then trimming them into half circles. “Can I have your corners?” Stuart asks, with a meant-to-be-charming smile. The chef, uncharmed, declines. He’s going to make use of this dough himself. Undaunted, Stuart sails on through the market, delivering his pitch and eventually procuring discarded beet greens, wheatgrass, and apples.
Picture of activist Tristram Stuart examining bananas in Colombia
Near Apartadó, Colombia, activist Tristram Stuart examines bananas too short, long, or curved for the European market. Locals consume some rejected bananas, but growers in the region annually dump millions of tons of edible fruit.
Eighteen hours later scores of chefs, food-recovery experts, and activists talk shop over chef Celia Lam’s squash tempura, turnip and tofu dumplings, and spiralized zucchini noodles. Stuart himself had cooked very little, but he had, without a single formal meeting, ensorcelled a half dozen people to devise a menu, gather ingredients, and then prep, cook, serve, and clean up a meal for little more than the chance to be associated with one of the most compelling figures in the international fight against food waste.
Across cultures, food waste goes against the moral grain. After all, nearly 800 million people worldwide suffer from hunger. But according to the Food and Agriculture Organization of the United Nations, we squander enough food—globally, 2.9 trillion pounds a year—to feed every one of them more than twice over. Where’s all that food—about a third of the planet’s production—going? In developing nations much is lost postharvest for lack of adequate storage facilities, good roads, and refrigeration. In comparison, developed nations waste more food farther down the supply chain, when retailers order, serve, or display too much and when consumers ignore leftovers in the back of the fridge or toss perishables before they’ve expired.
Wasting food takes an environmental toll as well. Producing food that no one eats—whether sausages or snickerdoodles—also squanders the water, fertilizer, pesticides, seeds, fuel, and land needed to grow it. The quantities aren’t trivial. Globally a year’s production of uneaten food guzzles as much water as the entire annual flow of the Volga, Europe’s most voluminous river. Growing the 133 billion pounds of food that retailers and consumers discard in the United States annually slurps the equivalent of more than 70 times the amount of oil lost in the Gulf of Mexico’s Deepwater Horizon disaster, according to American Wastelandauthor Jonathan Bloom. These staggering numbers don’t even include the losses from farms, fishing vessels, and slaughterhouses. If food waste were a country, it would be the third largest producer of greenhouse gases in the world, after China and the U.S. On a planet of finite resources, with the expectation of at least two billion more residents by 2050, this profligacy, Stuart argues in his book Waste: Uncovering the Global Food Scandal, is obscene.
Picture of fresh greens being thrown away in California's Salinas Valley
In California’s Salinas Valley growers annually trash thousands of tons of fresh greens that lack sufficient shelf life for a cross-country journey.
Picture of a large pot of curry made with discarded vegetables
At a Paris feast chefs simmer cosmetically challenged veggies—gleaned or donated—into a curry for 6,100 anti-waste enthusiasts
Others have been making similar arguments for years, but reducing food waste has become a matter of international urgency. Some U.S. schools, where children dump up to 40 percent of their lunches into the trash, are setting up sharing tables, letting students serve themselves portions they know they’ll eat, allotting more time for lunch, and scheduling it after recess—all proven methods of boosting consumption. Countless businesses, such as grocery stores, restaurants, and cafeterias, have stepped forward to combat waste by quantifying how much edible food isn’t consumed, optimizing their purchasing, shrinking portion sizes, and beefing up efforts to move excess to charities. Stuart himself has made a specialty of investigating conditions farther up the supply chain, where supermarket standards and ordering practices lead to massive, but mostly hidden, dumps of edible food.
Fifty miles north of Lima, Peru, in the farming town of Huaral, Stuart sips a glass of freshly squeezed satsuma juice with Luis Garibaldi, whose Fundo Maria Luisa is the largest grower of mandarins in the country. Pitched forward in his seat under a poolside pergola, Stuart asks: How much do you export? How much is rejected? For what reason? And what happens to those discards? Seventy percent of his crop, Garibaldi says, is exported to the European Union and North America. But 30 percent won’t be the right size, color, or sweetness, or it might have blemishes, scars, scratches, sunburn, fungus, or spiders. To local markets most of these rejects go, netting Garibaldi just one-third the price of the exports.
Stuart works through a ladder of queries that lead to a general thesis:Supermarkets’ cosmetic standards are crazily exacting—until supply shrinks, at which point they crumble like a chocolate lattice.
Lost En Route Every year some 2.9 trillion pounds of food—about a third of all that the world produces—never get consumed. Along the supply chain fruits and vegetables are lost or wasted at higher rates than other foods. Easily bruised and vulnerable to temperature swings en route from farm to table, they’re also usually the first to get tossed at home.
*Interactive
“So grocers purchase this slightly imperfect fruit, and consumers still buy it?” Stuart asks.
“Yes,” Garibaldi says, nodding.
In the fragrant orchard, which lies in a valley under the parched crenellations of the Cordilleran foothills, Stuart plucks a mandarin unfit for any market but stops short of eating it. “I don’t mind maggots, actually, but that one was fermented,” he says, choosing instead a fruit with two tiny brown spots. Fundo Maria Luisa, it turns out, generates relatively little waste, thanks to its U.K. representative, who examines shipments and negotiates with any buyers poised to reject fruit for specious reasons. Often, Garibaldi says, a supermarket’s rejection of food for cosmetic reasons is merely a cover-up for its inaccurate forecasts or an unexpected drop in sales. Either way, the grower is expected to eat the loss.
Picture of a Peruvian worker sorting through mandarins to identify potential rejects
Thirty percent of the mandarin crop in Huaral, Peru, won’t meet exacting export standards. Most of the rejects will be eaten locally. Globally 46 percent of fruits and vegetables never make it from farm to fork.
We drive 200 miles south, past tall sand dunes and wind-eroded ridges. All is ocher and dust until we reach valleys suddenly verdant with irrigated farmland—a consequence of foreign investment, favorable trade agreements, cheap labor, a warm climate, and a once bountiful aquifer. In the Ica Region, Stuart interviews a farmer who annually abandons in his fields millions of stalks of asparagus too thin or too curved or with bud tips slightly too open to export. Next a producer tells him that he dumps more than a thousand tons of infinitesimally imperfect Minneola tangelos and a hundred tons of grapefruit a year into a sandpit behind his packhouse.
Grade standards—industry driven and voluntary—were devised long ago to provide growers and buyers with a common language for evaluating produce and mediating disputes. They also can help reduce food waste. If growers can sort their asparagus or tangelos into established grades, they stand a better chance of finding markets for their “seconds.” Supermarkets have always been free to set their own standards, of course, but in recent years upscale grocers have started running their produce departments like beauty pageants, responding to customers, they say, who expect only platonically ideal produce: apples round and shiny, asparagus straight and tightly budded.
“It’s all about quality and appearance,” says Rick Stein, vice president of fresh foods at the Food Marketing Institute. “And only the best appearance will capture share of the consumer’s wallet.” Some of the produce that doesn’t capture share will be donated to food banks or chopped up and used in a supermarket’s prepared meals or salad bar, but most of U.S. grocers’ excess food is neither donated nor recycled. Stuart applauds some U.S. and EU supermarkets’ recent campaigns to sell “ugly” produce at a discount, but he prefers a systemic fix. “It would be far better to simply relax the standards,” he says, surveying a sea of abandoned Peruvian citrus for which no secondary market—ugly or otherwise—exists.
Picture of a volunteer gleaning for discarded potatoes and a volunteer preparing discarded vegetables for cooking
Gleaning for Good In the Picardy region of France a volunteer helps glean 1,100 pounds of potatoes too small to harvest mechanically. The potatoes will join carrots, eggplants, and other gleaned and donated vegetables at Paris’s Place de la République. There volunteers allied with Stuart’s group Feedback will chop this bounty into a meal for 6,100 diners. Feedback has helped organize more than 30 of these public feasts around the world to raise awareness of food waste and inspire local solutions.
For seven days Stuart traipses around farms and packhouses, runs through his questions, gathers data, and samples rejects. Between visits he folds himself like a fruit bat into the backseat of a crowded car and types. Tap, tap. He’s working out logistics for his next research trip, then accepting a drinks invitation from the general manager of the Food Bank of Peru. Tap, tap. An appointment with a food rescuer who just flew up from Santiago, Chile. Everywhere he goes, it seems, people want to tell Stuart an egregious story about food waste.
Sleep-deprived, unshaven, and sometimes hungover—what’s the point of being in a new country if you can’t sample what’s locally fermented?—Stuart remains focused. In fume-choked traffic he arranges to meet with a Peruvian congressman trying to overturn tax laws that incentivize dumping excess food over donating it. As we careen down a serpentine road, he taps out revisions to a proposed food-waste-reduction bill in the U.K. Parliament and a letter in support of expanding the authority of the U.K.’s Groceries Code Adjudicator. Next he floats to colleagues the idea of a Lima “disco soup”—a communal meal of rejected food, similar to the feast in New York City—to be held in four days for 50 to 100 people.



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