A Broad In Costa Rica

Still In Shock

You will be, too, when you read this, especially if you've ever had first-hand experience with migración. If you are moving to Costa Rica, a visit to migración will be required sooner or later. By the way, be sure to take your own papel higenico [pa-PELL ee-HEN-ick-oh, t.p.] Trust me, you will be there so long, you will have to use the facilities and no t.p. on hand. So to speak. But, on to better news:

Since Ryan is under 18, he has to have permission from Costa Rica's migración to fly out of the country. Yes, even though he is a U.S. citizen with a U.S. passport. Costa Rica WILL NOT allow any resident* minors to leave the country unless they have gotten the requisite stamp on the requisite letter from migración.

*Please note: this does not apply to tourists, only residents - whether temporary or permanent - and citizens.

This, sadly, requires a trip to surely one of the planet's most disorganized and ill-equipped immigration offices. Almost as bad as customs at the airport. If you've tried to get anything done in one trip, you fail miserably and dread going back.

For instance, one time Hal went to pick up a piece of paper. He'd been there the day before and seen this paper in his file, but the Official declared that Hal had to come back the next day to actually get the paper. Hal showed up at 8am the next morning, found his Official and asked to have the paper. The Official said, sure, be right back. SIX HOURS later, Hal's Official - who'd been M.I.A. all day - showed up and said they couldn't find the file. We never did get that piece of paper, whatever it was.

At least, that's how migración used to be.

On this day, we headed straight to the permiso de menores (permission for minors) office. We knew where it was because we'd been here once before, in February '07, to get stamps for both boys. We had tickets to fly to the states, departing in a couple of weeks. We didn't know about this required permission until that day, but figured we still had time to get it. (This is long before we'd had much personal dealing with migración, we were so naive!) Turns out, it was not possible. Even though there was a sign on the door stating all the boys needed was a passport and a cedula (ID), both of which we had, this Official insisted we also needed, drum roll please, a birth certificate, notarized by our Costa Rica consulate.

Since the boys were born in FL, our Costa Rica consulate is in L.A. Getting a notarized anything requires ordering a new one from an online service, getting it here (which takes at least two weeks), then mailing it to the consulate overnight ($70 and not overnight) with instructions and an overnight envelope back. This process can be accomplished in about a month. We didn't have a month.

Brash Americans, we decided to go to the airport and throw ourselves on the mercy of Officials there. Miraculously, it turned out that there is an emergency permission to be had, but it is only available on the day of the flight. That'll make you nervous! I had recently found out that friends without permisos had been refused to board their flights, losing their tickets and having to make new reservations with new money. We did not want this to happen. But the day of the flight, and 1,000 pounds of paperwork and ink later, we got our emergency permission and away we flew.

Fast forward to May 2010. Hal is adamant that we forget permanent stamps, requiring a trip to migración, possibly to wait for hours and likely requiring at least two trips. He wants to hang his hat on the emergency permission at the airport. I don't like this: we were lucky once. I hate to bank on luck. And the boys have to fly to the states twice before Ryan turns 18 in January 2011 (Mo no longer needs the permiso, thank goodness). It's too nerve-wracking. I'm for trying the migración route one more time. If that doesn't work, OK, airport and emergency permiso.

Of course, I win this tug-of-war. I'm still playing the sympathy card: "I almost DIED, remember?"

Actually, the boys remember all too well. I was drugged for the most part and the entire episode is fading for me. I guess the sympathy card is pretty low, huh? Ok, no more of that! Promise. Unless it's something really important.

8 a.m. last Wednesday, we set out for migración with our good friend, Offical tica and bureaucracy expert, Ester. She helped us get our permanent residency and join the Caja (the public health service), as well as a myriad of other tasks. I wouldn't go to migración without her.

Now, we are almost to the shocking part, so I hope you are sitting down.

Today's requirements for permiso de menores are: two passport photos (which we can get right across the street), cedula, passport, parents with cedulas and passports and, drum roll, a certified copy of said minor's birth certificate. Which, of course, we don't have. When we told the Official that we did not have the birth certificate, she asked, "You are permanent residents?"

We said, "Yes."

She said - and this is the shocking part: "Oh, well, we have his birth certificate IN THE COMPUTER."

There was actually a moment of stunned silence. Even Ester couldn't believe it. "In the computer"? Migración has done something as efficient as going paperless??? This is a new migración.

Not only that, we sat down in front of an Official who turns out to be a friend of Ryan's from gymnastics. So no grief, no stonewalling, no suspicious looks... A little typing, some printing, some signatures and - BOOM - the coveted stamp. All told, we were out of there in less than two hours from the moment we stepped onto the property. This is a record for us. Of course, we are still hoping we never have to go back. How long can this kind of luck hold?

The Power of Paper: el parte dos

Like the last time I ventured alone into the disturbing netherworld of Costa Rican bureaucracies, by the end of this adventure (trying to get Morgan his driver's permit) I got back home wanting to cry, then choke something, with just a smidge of incredulity thrown in. Not incredulous that seeking The Final Stamp is so frustrating. That's a given, I accept that. Incredulous that I got sucked so easily into the vortex, led by the invisible (to me) ring in my nose through all manner of hoops until I was sure it was me who was unreasonable. Haha.

I swear it's like that. Go ahead, move here. You'll see.

8:15a Wednesday morning. After dropping Ryan at gym class, Morgan and I arrive at Cosevi in La Uruca, the sprawling government complex for all things driver's license. I pulled over in front of the gwatchyman (guard/watchman, the parking guy) to ask where to park. But another man immediately stepped up and asked if necesitan ayuda (do we need help)? If you don't speak Spanish, don't know the ropes and didn't bring your own helper, you want one of these guys to help, at least get you started.

After reading this, you will know that what you really need is a helper... I do. I was feeling all competent after being able to renew my driver's license so easily. Anyway.

Our guy directs us to a different building a little further up the road where Mo gets his documentos, blood test, and eye exam, all for just 20,000 colones. (I find out later there are several places around where you get all that done for 10,000 colones. Sigh. Si habla español, you will save so much money, trust me on this.)

By 9a, Morgan has gotten his initial paperwork from an efficient young woman at the front desk, had his blood typed* and passed his eye exam: 20/20. Ah, to be young. While Mo was in line for the eye exam, he chatted with a young woman who mentioned stopping at the bank to pay the license fee on her way back to Cosevi. We have to stop at the bank? Ok.

After the eye exam, on the way out the door, I ask Miss Efficient necesitamos ir al banco (do we need to go to the bank)? She says no to the bank, but informs us that Mo needs copies of both his passport and of the document she just gave him 20 minutes ago. I ask where can I get those copies, please? What a coincidence: she can sell me copies, we'll just need to wait our turn in her line. Again.

Now, why, after we waited in her line the first time, sat at the chair in front of her desk, gave her 20,000 colones for which she gave us the document on which she'd written Mo's passport number, which she got from - you guessed it - his passport which she was holding in her hand... why didn't she sell us copies then?

It is pointless to ask this, that much I know for sure. I assume I offended someone (been known to happen) and this is payback. I am suspicious now of any info she gives me, but will figure it out as I go along. (I'm clearly still way naive about my ability to "figure it out as I go along." Dumb may be the more precise word.)

Mo goes to the end of the line, which is now twice as long as it was the first time. Half an hour later, we are on our way back to Cosevi with los documentos originales y las copias.

9:30a: The Cosevi line, into the actual driver's license office, is out the door, easily a 30-60 minute wait. As we step in line, a nice guard lady walks up and asks what we need. We tell her Mo's looking to get his driver's permit (permiso para aprender a manejar). She looks at our paperwork, nods her head yes with a big smile and walks away. Good! At least we know we are on the right track. I leave Mo there and head off to get Ryan from gymnastics.

At 10:15a, Ryan and I arrive back at Cosevi just as Mo is just walking out. He does not look triumphant. Turns out, he got to the door and discovered he needs his original passport in hand. Of course, I should know this. Everyone** has to see the original passport, no matter that the first person who saw it vouched to the fact in writing on the official document. Everyone needs to see it. Fortunately, I have it. We head back to the door, skipping the line.

The nice guard lady is there, checking paperwork before people are allowed into the sanctuary. We show her the passport. She smiles, then looks at our paperwork again. Then she asks, "Donde esta su póliza de seguros y su receta del banco?" (Where is your insurance policy and your BANK RECEIPT?)

Remaining calm, I ask, "Póliza de seguros? El necesita una póliza de seguros?" He needs an insurance policy? I did not roll my eyes or mutter wtf, but it was all I could do to stop myself. Proof that I am still in control.

She smiles, "Si!" Then she explains that all drivers-in-training need this. Ok, at least this makes sense. Plus, we do need to pay 5,000 colones at the bank for the permit. I swallowed the prolonged whine at the tip of my tongue re. having asked the bank question of Little Miss Efficiency at la oficina de documentos. Still in control. "Par for the course," I tell myself. We thank Ms. Guard and head out.

Una póliza de seguros is not that simple to procure. For one thing, that's gonna be real money. And another bureaucracy. Oy vey. But at least I can do the bank - it's right around the corner.

10:40a and we are now in line at the bank. By 11a, we are in front of the teller. She looks at us expectantly (uh oh). We tell her we are here to pay for mi hijo's license (I'm not even trying to pretend I speak Spanish anymore.) She asks for the paperwork. I push it under the glass. She looks it over, then asks - you are going to love this - if he's passed the test?

"Que examen?" I ask, a smidge too loudly. She can see my frustration (because she's a Rhodes scholar and not because anyone in their right mind would be taking a step back from me) and patiently explains that Mo has to pass a test. I tell her everywhere we've been, we've been told something different to do. The teller nods sympathetically. I continue in Spanglish: "Like the inefficient señorita at la oficina medico?" (She nods.) "Like la guarda at Cosevi?" She nods. Because she knows. She tells me to wait, she will bring me the phone number that you call to make an appointment to take the test. She asks if we have the booklet to study. Mo says he does - we thought that was the booklet for the driving test, not for the learner's permit.

She takes our 5,000 colones, gives us the coveted receta, leaves for a moment, comes back with the phone number. She smiles nicely, confidently. We adios, feeling perhaps now, maybe, we are on the right track.

11:30a, we are back home. Actually, three and a half hours is not a bad Costa Rican bureaucratic time sink***.  Mo goes to the phone and calls for an appointment to take the test. The guy on the phone asks for his cedula number, his passport number, name, phone number, date of birth, address, favorite color and shoe size. Then he tells Mo to come down to the office to make the appointment. Mo, with a sweet teenage wtf written all over his face, asks if he can't make the appointment over the phone? The guy says, "Oh, no, no hacemos citas por telefono. Usted necesita venir al oficina." No appointments over the phone, silly. You have to come to the office.

"Donde está su oficina?" Mo asks. Gets answer, eye roll, a gracias and hangs up. Where is the office? Cosevi in La Uruca, of course.

WTF.

*His results say O+. I thought he was A+. While I'm waiting for Mo to have his eye exam, I notice that the results for next three people who walk out of the blood test say O+. Perhaps we will have Mo's blood tested again.

**This is important and worth repeating (although it didn't help me - I forgot!) Whenever you do anything bureaucratic in Costa Rica, take all your original documents and at least two copies of everything. If there are pertinent stamps in your passport, make sure you copy those pages, too. The bureaucracy will not make copies - most of them don't have copy machines. And if there is one in that department, it won't be at your desk. It will be a few desks down and you'll have to wait in line in front of that desk, get your copies done for a small fee and come back. So be sure to bring all originals and at least two copies.

***Hal spent six hours at migración once. He arrived in the morning on time for his appointment. They said wait over there, we'll get your file and call you. Six hours later, he was told they couldn't find the file and could he come back in two days?

Too Easy

We renewed our driver's licenses last week. We both dreaded the event. Costa Rica is not known for its efficiency... In fact, remember 27 January - almost three weeks ago - when we were headed back to migración for a stamp? ONE stamp? Had everything we needed because we had already been to the correct office and gotten a list of what forms we needed? Praying for short lines? My post on that trip (not yet up because I'm suffering P.T.S.D.) is titled "I Just Want Someone to Choke." If you look up S.N.A.F.U. in the dictionary, there oughtta be a picture of Costa Rica's migración HQ. That place is seriously f---ked up. Seriously. Worse than customs at the airport.

Even thinking about going to a second Costa Rican bureaucracy in a single month gave us serious agita. We put it off as long as possible but it had to be done: Costa Rica changed its driving laws and increased the fines for driving without a current license. After you've been in Costa Rica for three months, you are required to have a local license. Then it has to be kept current... ours were expired for a year. Yeah, procrastination r us. Who knew what kinda time and headache that little detail was going to add to the task. Still, even though the job had to be done and we both knew it, it took a burst of loud, persistent nagging by one of us that managed to drag the other one out of his chair and into the car for the task.

CONSEVI (Consejo de Seguridad Vial, the Council of Roadway Safety) is in Uruca, about 15 minutes from our house. Not a long drive. At least if we got lost we wouldn't be far from home... Going anywhere new is still an adventure. If you don't get lost the first time, it's still a miracle.

To get there, take the circunvalación away from Hatillo to the end (which is Uruca). Go right at the light. Go about 1/2 mile and on your right you'll see the word "CONSEVI" painted on the side of a building. If you are lucky like we were, there is a parking space right there under the sign with a gwatchyman. (Gwatchyman is Spanglish for guard to watchy your car. Get it?)

Now, here's a phenom in Costa Rica that I suspect is the same in other developing nations. There are guys that hang around bureaucracies, waiting to be hired to interpret and guide. (Like at customs where I foolishly refused the help of the drunk guy. Sigh. Live and learn.) No different at CONSEVI: a guy timidly walked up to us and kinda stood there (he musta been new at this). We knew why he was there and were just as happy to have the help. We smiled which is like the implied contract. He started walking. We followed. So simple.

First stop is the "doctor's office" which is a block or so up the road past the CONSEVI building on the same side. You go here for the "medical exam." Like in the U.S., we call this a charade. We paid 15,000 colones ($30) each for the exam and 11,000 colones ($22) each for the new license. Fifty bucks each for a new driver's license. Maybe "charade" is the wrong word. Maybe the word I'm looking for is "racket."

The medical exam consists of answering a few questions asked by a doctor, reading one line on the eye chart and, these days, a blood test to find out your blood type. I assume this is in case you're in a traffic accident, they'll know what to pump in.

The blood test gave me pause. If you are going to get your driver's license, get your blood typed at a lab and bring the documento to CONSEVI. I knew my blood type and had been told by others that they just ask, no documento required. Well, that was yesterday. Today, unless you have the documento with you, they perform the blood test right there in that dingy, government building. It was not just a finger prick. And it was a little unnerving.

The room was clean. Trust me, I looked. In desperate need of paint like every other government building I'd been in so far. At least they don't waste tax dollars on government buildings. I prefer a poor government with prosperous citizens. Like the U.S. government, they are still working on prosperous citizens. Working on them as in doing their best to make them less so. But I digress.

We were in a tiny room off the main room. La enfermera (la in-fair-MARE-ah, the nurse) had sterile needles, cotton balls, alcohol... she looked prepared. Ok, I take a deep breath, a little reassured. She pulled off a hunk of cotton, sprayed it with alcohol... then placed it alcohol-side-down on the desk. WTF. It sat there soaking up desk-germs while she pulled off a second chunk of cotton for afterwards, got her needle and rubber thingy ready.

There have been too many times in my life when events unfolded in front of me like in a dream. Like it's happening to someone else and I'm watching. In my mind, I'm saying, "Jesus, I wouldn't let this happen to me/my child/my husband." But I do. She picked up that definitely unsterile cotton ball, swabbed my arm with it, stuck in the needle (painlessly at least) and confirmed what I'd told her. So far I'm still alive.

The doctor signs the medical form and we walk back down to CONSEVI to get the license. You walk in thru the massive gate and walk all the way back to the last office on your right. If you lived here, you would not believe what I'm about to tell you: there was no line. No line at all. No line at a Costa Rican bureaucracy does not happen ever. Ever. I guess the gods were trying to make up for the migración fiasco. They were making headway. This was sweet.

We each sat in front of a bored employee, handed over our medical form and old license. The fact it was a year expired was not mentioned. As it should be. The employee typed some stuff and told me to get my picture taken across the aisle. I did. Less than a minute later, the new license popped out and we were on our way. The whole thing took less than an hour.

The first half of the drive home was spent in silence, waiting for the other shoe to drop. We were half expecting an official car to pull us over and drag us back for all the paperwork and stamps we'd neglected to get. But didn't happen. By the time we got home, we were giddy. That was too easy. Still not going back to migración anytime soon... not unless they promise me someone to choke on the way out.

Updates: Quake, Hotel, EFT

The tremors under my office chair, all the way over here on the other side of the valley from the epicenter, have finally subsided. We had one - a long one - at 3am Monday morning, but it'd been several days since the one before that. Thank goodness! Those tremors are unnerving. I'm sure the survivors near Poás are grateful the aftershocks are mostly gone. They have enough to deal with. I imagine freedom from the anxiety over an immediate repeat performance is welcome.

Recovery and reconstruction are underway. The area will be affected for years to come. Muddy waters have killed the life in the Sarapiqui River. No fish, no fowl... The electrical plant there is in disrepair. (Most of Costa Rica's electricity is water-generated.) Strawberry fields have been decimated, leaving workers with no income. Cows and other livestock have been killed and injured. The death toll is at 23. The homeless at over 2,000.

You can make donations for earthquake victims from outside Costa Rica via Western Union. You are donating to the Cruz Roja (literally Red Cross, er, Cross Red). Tell Western Union it's for "Cruz Roja, EARTHQUAKERELIEF CR". It is a free transaction. Thank you, A.M. Costa Rica!

Two articles in a weekly newspaper here, the Tico Times*, moved me to tears this morning. Hope, spirituality, gratitude. Pardon the platitude but an earthquake ain't nothing compared to these forces.

The first article is about Ana Cambronero, 41, who lost her husband and three teenage children when the soda her family owned collapsed down the mountainside 19 days ago. Today she is staying with relatives and helping unemployed victims find jobs. She believes God spared her so she could help others recover. Where does God find people like this?

"The day I married Francisco, a new chapter of my life began... and yesterday at the funeral (Jan 15), that chapter ended. I now have to start a new chapter, in which I can express God's love by helping others."

The other is a letter from a gringo couple who was staying at the La Paz Peace Lodge. I've asked for permission to reprint the letter and I will if they grant that. (Who wouldn't want to be famous for 15 minutes on A Broad In Costa Rica?)

We've been busy looking for a new place to live, hopefully someplace we can operate as a small b&b. Or lease an up and running b&b, small hotel. The response has been so good we are encouraged - the right place is out there. Somewhere. If our future unfolds like our past, God only knows where we'll end up. So far, we've considered almost 15 properties. And so far, there's been that One Little Glitch in the way of actually packing up and signing a lease. But, hey, Rome wasn't built in a day.

The other new development is my discovery of EFT. I've done a few workshops here with a woman named Margot Diskin. EFT = Emotional Freedom Technique and go ahead, laugh. The name is completely over-the-top new-agey and ridiculous. It does, however, accurately describe exactly what EFT is and does. I am wild for it and am on the path to becoming a whatever it's called when you help people do this for themselves. Facilitator? See, I'm new at it.

Before we moved to Costa Rica, I was investigating acupuncture colleges** in the U.S. The plan was for me to go when we got back from here after a year. God laughs when we make plans, no question. Since there is no acupuncture school here*** and I don't really want to do massage (although I may go to school for that, too, since the training would definitely help), this is the next best thing. Actually, in some ways, I believe it might be better.

If you have any doubt that emotional energy can clog you up, watch What The Bleep? If you've never seen What The Bleep?, it is not to be missed. If I were God, it would be required viewing.

This morning, we are headed back to migración to get the stamps for the boys' passports so they can leave the country**** and to get our drivers' licenses renewed. They expired a year ago. Yeah, procrastination are us. We have a big day ahead of us, hours in line waiting for estampillas [stamps]. Oooh, be still my heart! Pray for short lines. Thank you.

*This newspaper charges 600 colones (about $1) for a local newsprint copy, it wants $4 for the pdf online version. That's outrageous if you ask me. So far, no one has. It's why I have a blog.

**I met all those people in the photo when we visited the school in late 2005. Very nice to see them graduated!!!

***There is a woman who does have a school but she does not respond to emails. She did once and even added me to her contact list on one of those Facebook-wanna-be sites. If I could find her and her class, I'd sign up. There is also a man in Zapote who teaches a series of classes and I took several during our first year here. But it's all in Spanish and I missed understanding at least half of it... I will start his class again when it starts up next.

****This should make a good post... Bureaucracy in Costa Rica is always a good time.

Filas, Firmas y Fechas

Translation: Lines, Signatures and Dates. Or Things a Costa Rican Bureaucracy Can't Do Without. I left out estampilla [s-tom-PEE-jah, stamp] because it doesn't start with an f. But this is actually the critical item. If at least one (and usually all) of your Important Documents don't get pounded by a rubber stamp, you aren't done. Wait for further instructions. The Stamp of the Final Bureaucrat is Costa Rica's Holy Grail.

Last month we got a double dose of CRB (Costa Rican Bureaucracy). First, we renewed our passports at the American Embassy, as entrenched in CRB as any CRB. Then we received our cedulas [SAY-do-loss, i.d. cards] identifying us as rentistas [wren-TEE-stahce]. It doesn't have an actual definition but it means we are officially renting residency from the Costa Rica government. Mainly this gives us the right to not have to leave every 90 days for 72 hours, like those on a tourist visa have to do. We still can't work, can't vote, some say we can't even whine, but you know what I think about that policy.

The entire cedula process is chock-a-block full of filas, firmas, fechas y estampillas. After, of course, getting a number. If you speak Spanish, you could try to get your residency without paid assistance. If you don't speak Spanish, forget that. Eventually, you will beg for someone to help you and the cost will seem pitiful compared to the detail required.

When the guidebooks say, "You can get around fine in Costa Rica without knowing Spanish," they mean while visiting, doing things visitors do. Like paying entry fees in tourist attractions, finding out where the bathroom is, ordering a coke. They don't mean doing anything requiring a fila, firma, fecha y/o una estampilla. Nobody speaks English inside those damp gray buildings. Nobody that we ever heard anyway and we've been in them all.

My advice is to hire someone (this is a link to the service I wish I'd hired) and git 'er done. For the four of us, it cost $1,600 in fees. Plus $1,300 on deposit at Migración to pay for one-way tickets outta here if we are deported. Plus $600 to have the required documents overnighted from various bureaucracies in the states (marriage/birth certificates, letters from local police, Interpol fingerprint cards) to the state's Secretary of State, then to that state's Costa Rican consulate, then back to Costa Rica.

At each stop, our identifying documents received numerous firmas, fechas y estampillas all verifying we are who we say we are. Even though we weren't there to eyeball. I could've just told them and saved $600, but that wasn't good enough. What do those bureaucrats know about me I don't know? Today's question: what do they know about me I don't know they know?

Once your basic paperwork has made the rounds, been submitted to Migración and you have the famous en trámite letter, all stamped, saying you've applied and giving you permission not to leave the country every 90 days, forget you applied. You will hear nothing for months. Six months after we applied, Costa Rica said it would keep us and to expect a cedula cita [SEE-tah, appointment] momentito. A year later, we actually had that appointment. In the meantime, we carried our en trámite letters and copies of our passports to prove we were legally here.

Gotcha Day (this time) was a Friday. I was afraid Fridays at Migración would be a nightmare, but au contraire, everyone is itching to get to the beach so no one was slacking. We were told to be prepared for at least a six hours wait. It was three! Lucky us. To while away your hours, you sit in a soda on the premises, drink coffee, eat comida tipica, and read or play games. In our case, hangman in Spanish. We play the Everyone Wins version where you just keep adding clothing, hair, plants and accessories until the word is discovered. Our hangpersons are pretty and smiling, hanging there in the sunshine.

When we tired of hangman, the three little boys tried to think of all the words they know for penis in Spanish. They could only come up with two: pene [PAY-nay, like the pasta] and some other word I've blocked out. So they took all the English slang words for penis, like One Eyed Trouser Snake, and translated those to Spanish. The raucous laughter and using-the-word-in-a-sentence exercise took up quite a bit of wait time. They are so easily amused.

When I went to pay for the food, the soda clerk tried to rob me. She's used to gringos in there all day everyday who speak little to no Spanish. I'm not one of 'em. She looked at all the items on my tray, added them up and said, in español muy rapido, "Dos mil quinientos." That's two thousand 500 colones.

When anyone says a money figure to me, I repeat it to myself, sometimes out loud. And I don't give my payment until I know what I heard. Not because I think I'll be cheated; that's only happened once (now twice) in over two years. But so I get used to hearing and understanding the numbers. I gave her a 5,000 colon note. She gave me change, I start to walk away without counting. But my inside voice demands a re-count. I find I'm short a mil. I go back and ask her, "Cuanto cuesta?" and show her my change. She doesn't miss a beat: does a "hmmm" (which is the same in Spanish), asks to see my tray again. I show it, she makes a big deal recounting my items, looks quizzical, states that she overcharged me a mil and hands me one. OK, however she gets there, I don't care. I got my $2, I walk.

Just before I do, we exchange looks. I try to keep mine neutral - I'll give her the benefit of the doubt, I got my money, no need to be righteous. But hers is respectful. Like I passed a test. I probably imagined this but now I feel like I really belong.

Renewing passports was uneventful, except for two events. First, when we arrived at the room where you wait in line, we sat in the available chairs. Which were red. The guard, who is armed, marches over and demands we move from the sillas rojas [SEE-jahce ROW-hahce, red chairs] and sit in the sillas azules [ah-ZOOL-ace, blues]. Of which there are none empty. I point that out, he shrugs and demands we get up. All the blue chairs are full, most of the red ones are empty, they are inches from each other, but we can't sit there. THIS is perfect Costa Rican bureaucratic hoo-ha. He's got the gun, we stand.

The other event was when the Embassy worker, a U.S. citizen, demanded to see Ryan's birth certificate. He's 15 and to renew his passport, you have to present his birth certificate. This requires a trip home. OK. I go, get it, come back the next day, get a number, sit in the blue chairs until my turn and hand it over. But she doesn't want to accept the one I have because it's not official enough. This is the birth certificate from the hospital with his baby footprints on it signed by the doctor with a solid gold raised seal on it and it's not official enough? THIS is perfect U.S. bureaucratic hoo-ha. I do not raise hell because I know better and she does eventually take it, bless her bureaucratic heart.

So here we are. All legal, signed in, carrying cards and booklets to prove we exist. In only 1.5 years, we can get permanent residency which will allow us to work. Can't vote until we become citizens which requires a high degree of fluency and the ability to sing the Costa Rican national anthem. Since Hal is not going to let me marry a tico, I better get to working on that.

Back Down

Ok, this is ridiculous. I'm having a flood of anti-Costa Rica experiences. Maybe if I get them out of my system, this rock in my gut will disappear.

IN THE NEWS. Don Oscar seems hellbent on getting Costa Rica into the 21st century. Only I don't approve of the way he's going about it. I don't know why he didn't think to ask me first, but he didn't.

On the plus side, he's fixing the roads - lots of painting activity, new timed streetlights in downtown San José, spending millions making the center of downtown into a paved walking mall. He is finally replacing the Oh Shit and the Oh My God bridges between Jacó and Quepos. Although I will miss them. Crossing those babies is an adventure worth having all on its own! If you've never driven over them, come now. It's worth the trip.

He has a contract signed to finish a highway between Orotina and the Pacific. He has another to pave the road between Quepos and Dominical, which is now a real gut-wrencher. He's gone around the world begging off on Costa Rica's debt. He's hot to put in the international airport just south of Dominical. He promises to eradicate poverty in 50 years. Some might say he's a dreamer.

On the other hand, he severed ties with Taiwan, a long time very active supporter of Costa Rica, in favor of China over imports and money. Maybe that is better for Costa Rica in the long run, I don't pretend to know. But I wouldn't dump a loyal friend for a better looking richer more powerful murdering thug sort of friend.

He signed CAFTA into law, something else I really don't comprehend. Judging from all the discussions about it, does anyone? But if the U.S. wanted Costa Rica to sign it, experience says it's really only good for the U.S.

He is sending Costa Rica's cops to the School of the Americas - now called Western Hemisphere Institute for Security Cooperation (oddly, my browser detected that its security certificate was not in order) and so infamous for its tactics it has its own Watch - for training. Great. Last year, he promised he wouldn't after doing it once, but he's decided they really do need S.W.A.T. training. As my husband likes to point out, when you have a hammer, everything starts to look like a nail.

The U.S. Coast Guard can now bring its vessels into Costa Rica's ports. You know, for the Drug War. Which is being lost on every front by every account. But everyone should keep spending money on it, yes indeedy, and every other country needs to get in on the game. One day, maybe we can imprison and/or kill all the drug users. Then we'll be safe from... temptation.

There's been a rash of bank thefts lately: money taken right out of people's accounts. Flat out stolen and the banks accept no responsibility. No FDIC. They claim account holders have given away their passwords in phishing scams. I could understand one or two dummies. But we're talking about $8M in losses, several different banks. Seems the banks let plenty of money be transferred out of accounts in excess of the daily limits with no notice... Looks to all the rest of us like an inside job.

Speaking of inside jobs: a friend told us his banker called last week to verify that his wife was in L.A. requesting a wire transfer. Huh? Apparently a guy named Rodrigo Areyas had called the bank trying to set up a transfer, saying the wife had requested it. Well, not only was his wife sitting right beside him, who the hell was Rodrigo Areyas? They never found out.

The other REALLY fishy thing was that his account was in a corporation name. One bought from someone else, so his and his wife's names do not appear ANYWHERE on this account. Except on the signature cards. Explain that with phishing.

Yesterday's big news is that Costa Rica's property assessor re-assessed all the properties on the coast and presented tax bills with some whopping increases. Like from $300 a year to $6,600 a year. That'll take some cheer out of the holiday season. Not to mention put a damper on property sales.

It's not so much the money, although $6,600 is a pretty major tax bill, comparable to Key West properties. Our tax bill in north Florida for 10 acres of dirt featuring the world's most poorly constructed mobile home was less than $500 a year. Costa Rica has higher tax bills than Florida? More than the money, it's the fact it happened overnight, with no warning. This is the very thing that scares off extranjeros [x-trahn-HAIR-ohs, foreigners] from buying property in developing nations. Change without warning, insecurity, instability.

Panama is suffering this insecurity as well: their government just reduced, without warning, the tourist visa from 90-days-easily-renewable, to 30 days and you have to apply and be approved for a renewal... If you own property in Panama you intended to visit several months of the year, you'll spend all your time at migración applying for extensions.

So that's all the bad stuff I can think of right now. Oh, wait. Except for this...

I just called my friend Jacqeline to ask her about a volunteer event being held tomorrow. She was pretty much a wreck because she and her family were robbed at gunpoint in her house last night. They live in a big gringo style house right outside Escazú. Her husband, his visiting friend, her 3 year old daughter and her. All home.

The thieves, three guys with guns, police scanners and ski masks, jimmied the pedestrian metal door on her driveway gate, got it open, ran in, threw themselves into her plate glass window, took six laptops (three were broken which gives her some satisfaction), a big screen TV (which they broke getting out of the house which makes her practically gleeful.) And they tied up and pistol whipped her husband and the friend in front of her daughter.

J was at the back door when they broke in the gate. She ran out and climbed over their 10' high fence, dropped into her neighbor's yard, calling the police on her cel phone, got a big gash in her foot along with multiple bruises and scrapes... her neighbors called the cops, too. The cops CAME - which is very good news - got there in about 20 minutes. Not bad on these roads with directions around here: "Turn left at the burned out building..."

The thieves heard the cops were coming on the scanners and left before they could take anything else.

So. This sucks big time. It was one thing when the ladrones just waited for the house to be empty. Now they are armed, mean-spirited and don't give a shit if you are there or not. There were two regulation guys in J's house, but they broke in anyway, ran right past the dogs. I am not liking this one little bit. Not one tiny speck.

To make me feel completely schizo - up down up down up down - we got two boxes today. One from the Bortmans (who, you will remember, deserted us almost exactly a year ago) filled with candy and homemade cards from the kids - very sweet. And one from my dear friend Jan with books, more candy, TRISCUITS, fuzzy socks for me, two wind up Halloween toys and about 100 pairs of socks to give away. Lemme tell ya, candy and fuzzy socks are sure coming in handy right now.

Gotcha Day Glitch

In the adoption world, Gotcha Day is the day we gotcha, the day we brought our new baby home. I get all teary remembering our two Gotcha Days. Yesterday, December 10th was Mo's 16th Gotcha Day. To celebrate, Jen made cookies and brought them over. Hey, Jen, we ate every single one immediately, every delicious morsel!!!!

Serendipitously, yesterday was also Gotcha Day to pick up our cedulas [SAY-do-lahce, Costa Rica's ID cards]. The cedulas that confirm our legal status as rentistas. We've had the appointment for weeks now: 9am at the Immigration Assistant Service's (IAS and not its real name) office. We were told to come a little early.

If you've ever owned a business, you've had the Customer For Whom You Can Do Nothing Right (CFWYCDNR). It's a nightmare situation: no matter how many times you've done a thing, for this customer that thing is always totally screwed up. The simplest thing will never go right. It's uncanny. Ridiculous. If you've ever owned a business, you are shaking your head in recognition.

We are IAS' CFWYCDNR. Everything we've done with them has been difficult, fraught with ill-will and screwed up. The difference between you and me and IAS is that IAS doesn't attempt to make it right. In fact, IAS makes it clear we are the CFH: Customer From Hell. Even though we are paying CFHs. I'm like totally sick of this attitude. For instance.

We arrived at the office at 8:30am. We told the receptionist why we were there. She made a call, told us the attorney would be in shortly. Great. We sat.

During the hour we waited, two employees chatted us up as they passed by, congratulating us on gettin' legal. El Presidente of IAS, who I've met and had lunch with, rushed by us several times without saying hello or nodding in our direction. I thought that was pretty rude, but what do I really care? Nada. I mention it so you know it's not like people didn't know we were waiting. And waiting and waiting. About which I did care.

By 9:30, we'd waited long enough. We got up, asked the receptionist to please reschedule the appointment and left the building. Serendipitously, our ex-attorney was walking up as we were walking out. We get a questioning look.

I said, "We've been waiting an hour...."

He interrupts me: "Your appointment was at 8am."

Me: "I was told 9."

Attorney: "It was at 8." Not, "Oh, gee, we've had a miscommunication, so sorry you've been waiting all this time, someone should have called me, let's get you down there, yada yada yada..." None of that. Just: "Your appointment was at 8."

I asked why no one called us? How could we have sat there in the waiting room for an hour and no one thought to call the attorney? Are all expats this late? Apparently the assistant had been down at migración holding our place in line since 7:30am... Didn't he wonder why we hadn't shown up? Why didn't he call? This is met with a shrug. This attorney is not accepting any responsibility. Our appointment was at 8 and we were late. Our problem. End of story.

You know, our dentist calls us the day before dental appointments to remind us. She speaks no English, yet we've never missed an appointment or gotten the time wrong.

In fact, December 10th was actually our second cedula appointment. Our first appointment last September slid by without us even being notified. I was perfectly lovely about it then. I am not lovely now.

Since the assistant was already there, we decided to go to migración. The attorney says great, expect to be there between one and six hours. We stare back in stunned silence. SIX hours? As in SEIS? We get a nod yes, no smile.

You know, it would have been nice to know that in preparing for the day... but, ok. This is Costa Rican bureaucracy; to expect anything less would be madness on our part. We remind ourselves inefficiency is part of the reason we love it here and head to the car.

The attorney stops us and asks if we've forked over paid the $1,300 migración holds for plane fare in case you get deported. We said yes. El Presidente is with us by now and says no, that is never paid up front. Since we do not have our receipts with us and IAS does not have a record of this payment on file, there is nothing to do but reschedule and leave. Completely annoyed.

This payment SNAFU happened before with IAS. When we first signed up, back in February '06, we paid 1/2 the IAS fee in cash. BIG MISTAKE, but we didn't have debit cards yet and were still carrying around wads of cash. Hal and I both clearly remember counting out the cash. But in the early days of our adventure, we must've lost the receipt. IAS, who still handles their receipts the sweet old-fashioned hand-printed carbon-copy triplicate way, did not find a receipt either. With no other choice, we paid that first half again. I mean, they'd already submitted the mounds of paperwork to migración...

And here we are again, distinctly remembering paying - with a credit card - the deportation deposit, and IAS doesn't have a record of it. We'll have to go home and sift through our drawer full of receipts to find the proof.

But not today. Maybe not ever. We are completely over this kind of service.

You know, maybe we haven't paid that deportation fee yet, even though we both remember doing so. Maybe we were just told about it. Every time we went to the office to take care of some paperwork, we were informed of a new fee, a new law, a new requirement. This is not their "fault" of course. Hey, maybe we really are old and confused. Hal could be.

The thing is, I'm a paying customer in a new country with a new language hiring the very people who promised to help smooth the way. Instead, I get stonewalled, taken advantage of, haphazardly helped, then blamed when things don't go as planned. Who needs that?

But, whatever! I'm looking on the bright side: it was a Gotcha Day and nothing can ruin a Gotcha Day

Comments from a Tico Reader!

Last month, Manrique wrote a comment on a post and I loved getting it. Write more, Manrique! So valuable to hear perceptions from his side of the fence:

Hi Saratica!

First please excuse my english if I don't write it perfectly (I read it more than I write it). I am a Tico (34 years old, live in Heredia, work in Santa Ana, (1 hr drive each day for 20 km) and has recently been fascinated by all the expats blogs and travelogues. There is really an "underground" expat culture going on of which most ticos are unaware and it is quite interesting! Not only I like to know what "extranjeros" think of Costa Rica (good things and bad) but also I like to wonder about the changes my country has gone through in the last couple of decades, many of which I am still not sure if they are good or bad. I want to share with you my point of view on many of the things you have mentioned. Also, I work for a US company and travel a lot to the US (which I like) so I want to provide my perspective (some benchmarking) on both countries:

Driving in CR: oh god, this is really like being inside a video game (and walking across a street is just like playing Frogger). I remember my first time going around a roundabout. I was scared to death! However after a couple of weeks things seemed so natural. Ticos just don't notice there are no signs for places and its just natural for us just to stop and ask someone. I have noticed many of the signs are actually misleading. On the contrary I find driving in the US a pleasure (except Boston). Signs everywhere, just drive and go (I love exit numbers). However, I am always scared to death of "doing wrong". I don't know why but I feel I will end up in jail if I don't yield correctly. At least if you violate a street sign in CR (and are lucky not to crash) the most you will get is some honking and cursing and it just seems normal. I once merged too slow in the US and got "the finger" and I felt really bad the rest of the day!

Customer Service: this is awful in CR (maybe its because we don't have a real tipping culture). Slow service, long lines, lots of redundancy, "I don't care" or "that is not my job" attitude. Yes, its the way it has always been ( I found the same on a trip to Spain so ummm maybe its in the genes!). Sure we are used to it but younger generations are not as tolerant and I start to feel some positive changes. We actually need your help on this. Although you may come to expect it, always let the person know when service was bad! Little by little we will change things. On my trips to the US I have always seen big smiles and "how can I help you" most of the time and its so refreshing (seem a little fake sometimes but hey I will take it). This does not apply at US airports (oh my god what is going on there, do they smack all employees each morning?).

Family: CR is a family oriented country. As it is so small, no need to leave home for college (my brother lived with my parents up to when he was 35 years old, my mom at this point was ready to kick him out, thank goodness he got married!). I find that in the US people are more community oriented and this community can be friends, neighbors, members of a class, group, volunteering, etc. Usually brothers, sisters, aunts/uncles, live farther apart. In CR community most of the time means family as in brother/sisters, uncles, etc. It is sad but I don't really know my neighbors.

Beaches: CR beaches have gone a transformation. I remember going to Jaco and Tamarindo with my parents, almost no buildings in sight, CR run sodas and hotels, no traffic and deserted beaches. Imagine we used to drive our cars ACROSS THE RIVERS in order to get from Jaco to Manuel Antonio (I remember a few times after crossing the rivers we had to open my dad cars' doors to let the water run out (it was an adventure getting to MA!). There were only 2 or 3 hotels in MA. I am talking circa 1987 here! Nowadays its sad but its more difficult for us ticos to enjoy our natural beauties. Most tourists that come to CR get to see more natural wonders in a week than any tico will see in 10 years and many in a lifetime. Where paying $15 (and all charges were in colones) a night was the average 15 years ago in Manuel Antonio, Tamarindo etc, now its nearly impossible to do. Last time I spent more than 2 night in a beach was 5 years ago and have only been once to Arenal and Puerto Viejo. Sad, but I guess this is the price we need to pay to cash in the tourist buck.

Malls : Oh yes malls! What we ticos used to do 10 years ago on weekends I have no idea! I really hate going to the mall on weekends (I prefer to go at lunch hour to Multiplaza when I actually need to buy something). Metropolitan ticos seem to love this gift from US pop culture. Now if only we could imitate your excellent water parks!

Prices: Costa Rica used to be extremely inexpensive for the average gringo. Not so anymore although I still tend to believe that "what is expensive in CR is inexpensive in the US and vice versa". Real Estate prices have skyrocketed. Probably you wont believe me but 20 years ago you could build a real MANSION with $100,000. Curiously enough, it has never been so easy for middle class ticos to buy a home (which is not the same as "afford"). Colon interest rates are at a historic low (down to 12% from 21% a year ago). I believe this is not sustainable and might cause a lot of trouble down the road as many people who can afford a $40,000 homes are buying $75,000 homes.

TLC [CAFTA]: Free trade agreement with the US? I have no idea if this is something good in the end and I am sure no one in the country really knows (who has time to go over those thousands of pages). People will vote on this based on gut or passion. However, I do believe that if it does not get approved we will be in trouble just because most other countries have already embraced it. Just keep my cell phone bill as it is!!!!

Wrap up: the US and Costa Rica have many many things in common (I'm talking about actual real people, not governments) and also many many differences. I think this is what make us attract to each other so much. The magic will end when CR becomes so similar to the US.

Congratulations on your wondeful blog! I hope you are with us for a long time!

Thank you, Manrique. Me, too!

We Are Not Alone:

It's how they do it all over the place.

Corruption? Costa Rica?

According to Transparency International, Costa Rica ranks 55 out of 163 countries, #1 being the most trustworthy (Finland), #163 being the least (Haiti). Not bad. Except that the U.S. ranks #20. Something smells fishy.