I am still completely bemused and befuddled at the day just gone. It felt very hectic, but also included long periods of waiting for - what I didn't know... I have waited in queues where my number was 590, spoken to both rude and ignorant officials and some very helpful and smiling ones, witnessed first hand the crazy Argentinean answer to immigration bureaucracy and sprinted vast distances across this sprawling megalopolis (or that's how it felt, I admit to a bit of poetic license here) to get to another queue before they stop admitting more.
We have had so much conflicting advice and information about what I need in order to complete my residency application, ranging from 'oh no, you have everything you just need a stamp on that paper from the Ministry of Internal Affairs' to 'you have to send everything back to New Zealand to get the embassy there to do this that and the other'. We stood in that queue where my number was 590 for what felt like a day but was probably only a couple of hours, in order to get an appointment for Friday - not even to see anyone who could tell me anything. The paper I need is from the Federal Police, to verify that I have no criminal record in Argentina, and should technically be the last piece of this immigration puzzle. The bank where the office is was on strike, so it was extra slow and full of impatient and angry people and arrogant security guards who wouldn't let Joel accompany me to translate.
So we waited. Went to a coffee shop next door who obviously cater to the wealthy lawyers and government officials in the are, because they charged us 16 pesos for a coffee and an orange juice. There are about 2.2 pesos to a dollar at the moment, but it feels like a spend of $16 NZ in terms of the value of money. This is an expensive city, even supermarket prices are very high in comparison to what people earn. They have the same cheese problem as New Zealand! Export prices for locals. The only cheap things are alcohol and tobacco! What does that say about the society?
But after we had got my appointment for tomorrow and returned home, we chanced a phone call to a department of the Federal Police that handles immigration enquiries and they sent us to another office on the other side of town, which is technically the department of immigration proper. When we arrived panting, after running the several blocks from the subway stop, we saw a queue of at least 200 people and just about lost heart. But never take anything at face value here, is my new motto! We weasled our way inside, interrupted a few people to ask a couple of pertinent questions, and found a wee office at the back of the building where they processed my transaction on the spot and told me to come back and pick up the paper next Wednesday. You just have to persevere! And disregard the queues, the several hundred other people waiting for god knows what, and have a local on your side. I would be so lost if not for Joel! I'll have to remember to cancel my appointment on Friday... or maybe I won't, just to be bad. Mwahahahahaaaa!
So tomorrow I get my police clearance from NZ stamped to confirm it's authenticity - this also confuses me... How do they know? But apparently because it was translated and verified by the Argentinean consul in Wellington it carries a bit of weight, and they will trust it enought to stamp it, but not enough to use it without a stamp. Hmm. Then we wait for Joel's ID which is ready on Monday and my other piece of papel de mierda (a phrase I have come to use and abuse) on Wednesday, and then we head to Neuquen to finish the process there. Less people means less queues and faster processing is the theory. Let's hope. I am starting to really feel for Joel and the boys when they were going through all this in New Zealand, it is so confusing!
good god, you are living the kafka, ... and its a good read too so keep it up ;)
ReplyDeletexox