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 . . . → Read More About The Power of Paper: el parte dos