Get your imaginations ready! Pretend you are about to take a test to receive your Costa Rican driver's license. Here's your first question:
1) You are approaching an intersection. You observe both a stop sign and a green light. What should you do?
A) Stop and look for cross traffic and proceed when safe to do so.
B) Go through the intersection without stopping.
C) Stop taking the test and go find someone to take the test for you for a slight fee.
This hypothetical test question represents something you actually MUST know to survive driving in Costa Rica. FYI, the correct answer is B. Only if the electricity is out are you supposed to stop before proceeding through the intersection. Even then, stop at your own risk. Because everyone else will be doing their best to shoot through the intersection without slowing down, taking advantage of no traffic lights!
Costa Rican TV news has been focusing lately on corruption. They have discovered that quite easily a person can pay about $50 and receive a driver's test with the correct answers already marked on it. For an additional $50 you can pass the practical test.
No wonder Costa Rica has the third highest per capita accident rate in the world!!
Friday, October 28, 2005
Wednesday, October 12, 2005
To God Be The Glory!
I will get straight to the point.
I RECEIVED MY RESIDENCY VISA TODAY!
Truly, it is a miracle. The man ahead of me in line today makes his living by helping people get their residencies. He asked me if I either had a Costa Rican husband or child. When I said I had neither, he simply shook his head in wonder that I was about to receive my residency.
Today’s wait in Immigration makes another good, long story. I managed to choke back tears at a couple of points in the process today, but overall it was a much easier experience than last week’s. Shorter too – only three and a half hours!
One has to wonder why it should take over three hours – especially considering I was third in the “firma” (signature) line today!!
All told, I had to wait through five lines today. I hit the first one by 6:40AM to be in good position by the time they officially open - 8:00AM. Today the lines were smaller and well-organized. (Some people set up tents and camped for two nights to be in good position for Monday’s appointments!!) I was grateful for Woody’s idea to bring along a portable camp stool. I set it up in line and pulled out newsletters on my lap, using a paperback as my desktop to add personal notes to the letters.
Last week so many people called and complained to TV stations and newspapers after horrendous immigration experiences like my own. All week long the Ministry of Immigration has had LOTS of bad press! They have had to clean up their act a little, hoping to convince the TV cameras to leave them alone!
My first line wasn’t too discouraging. I was 20th in a line of about 100. I hit the second line at the infamous “Puerta Dos” (door number two). I was third in position, and I felt a surge of hope. They didn’t wait on us in order, but still, comparatively, the wait was short. The third line at window four wasn’t bad at all, and my hopes were higher still when they had me actually sign my residency card. The official told me they would call me to hand me the final copy. I’d barely sat down again, when she came looking for me.
“You are missing one deposit.”
No! It can’t be! I’ve made four deposits already!
She insisted. This one was for $2.
“But,” she said, “there is a bank right here, so it should be quick, and you can come right back to me for the final residency card.”
I headed to find the bank window.
I couldn’t believe my eyes! There were 50 people in the bank line!
I pulled out my camp stool again and began writing more letters. The line moved very slowly.
The deposit made, I headed back to window four, only to find that I could not speak to the official again without waiting through yet another line! (This is the point to choke back tears!)
I only was able to write two more letters before it was my turn. She took my deposit slip and headed to the back to get my card. When she returned, she didn’t hand me a card. Instead she addressed me with a stern reprimand.
“You were supposed to be here on the fifth of October! Why didn’t you come?”
I swallowed hard before kindly replying that I had spent all day there on the 5th. It took some convincing, but she returned to her supervisor and finally got the authority to hand me the coveted card.
Apparently, my residency was granted on September 17th. It expires in six months. That tempers my rejoicing a bit, knowing that I will have to return in April to begin the renewal process. But, I rejoice that I have the card and that you all have faithfully prayed for me during this process.
I RECEIVED MY RESIDENCY VISA TODAY!
Truly, it is a miracle. The man ahead of me in line today makes his living by helping people get their residencies. He asked me if I either had a Costa Rican husband or child. When I said I had neither, he simply shook his head in wonder that I was about to receive my residency.
Today’s wait in Immigration makes another good, long story. I managed to choke back tears at a couple of points in the process today, but overall it was a much easier experience than last week’s. Shorter too – only three and a half hours!
One has to wonder why it should take over three hours – especially considering I was third in the “firma” (signature) line today!!
All told, I had to wait through five lines today. I hit the first one by 6:40AM to be in good position by the time they officially open - 8:00AM. Today the lines were smaller and well-organized. (Some people set up tents and camped for two nights to be in good position for Monday’s appointments!!) I was grateful for Woody’s idea to bring along a portable camp stool. I set it up in line and pulled out newsletters on my lap, using a paperback as my desktop to add personal notes to the letters.
Last week so many people called and complained to TV stations and newspapers after horrendous immigration experiences like my own. All week long the Ministry of Immigration has had LOTS of bad press! They have had to clean up their act a little, hoping to convince the TV cameras to leave them alone!
My first line wasn’t too discouraging. I was 20th in a line of about 100. I hit the second line at the infamous “Puerta Dos” (door number two). I was third in position, and I felt a surge of hope. They didn’t wait on us in order, but still, comparatively, the wait was short. The third line at window four wasn’t bad at all, and my hopes were higher still when they had me actually sign my residency card. The official told me they would call me to hand me the final copy. I’d barely sat down again, when she came looking for me.
“You are missing one deposit.”
No! It can’t be! I’ve made four deposits already!
She insisted. This one was for $2.
“But,” she said, “there is a bank right here, so it should be quick, and you can come right back to me for the final residency card.”
I headed to find the bank window.
I couldn’t believe my eyes! There were 50 people in the bank line!
I pulled out my camp stool again and began writing more letters. The line moved very slowly.
The deposit made, I headed back to window four, only to find that I could not speak to the official again without waiting through yet another line! (This is the point to choke back tears!)
I only was able to write two more letters before it was my turn. She took my deposit slip and headed to the back to get my card. When she returned, she didn’t hand me a card. Instead she addressed me with a stern reprimand.
“You were supposed to be here on the fifth of October! Why didn’t you come?”
I swallowed hard before kindly replying that I had spent all day there on the 5th. It took some convincing, but she returned to her supervisor and finally got the authority to hand me the coveted card.
Apparently, my residency was granted on September 17th. It expires in six months. That tempers my rejoicing a bit, knowing that I will have to return in April to begin the renewal process. But, I rejoice that I have the card and that you all have faithfully prayed for me during this process.
Thursday, October 06, 2005
Immigration Blues
Chaos reigns.
That was the phrase that echoed in my mind as I spent five hours in immigration on Tuesday.
Woody says my story reminds him of the Wizard of Oz. Dorothy finally manages to get an appointment to see the Wizard and is told to come back later. She learns there really is no such thing as an appointment with the Wizard.
Once again, I wished I had a camera at the immigration offices. Almost everywhere you turn, you can see a sign that says,
"Haga fila ."
If you want to learn Spanish, learn that phrase. It means, “Form a line.”
I don’t think it really matters where or for what purpose, but the key is simply to form a line.
Haga fila.
I’ll paste below my journal which I wrote in my Sony Clié as I spent those five hours in immigration.
7:30AM
HAGA FILA
I have seen two of those signs so far today. Lines should indicate someone knows something -that there is some purpose at the end of the line.
I first get in a line about 200 people long. There are no signs or officials to ask what the line is for. Everyone I asked was just guessing, but all those around me also had 8:15 appointments to have their residency card signed or renewed, so I must be in the right line. We see an official passing down the line, collecting appointment slips. The stack in his hand is about 3 inches deep so far. He suddenly disappears after getting within 50 feet of me.
8:10 AM - We have advanced a half block. The paper-collecting official suddenly reappears at door #2, shouting, "8:15 appointments!" 100 of us run to door #2, only to be turned away en masse. One or two manage to "dip their toes first in the stirred waters."
The rest of us hear and spread the rumor that there was a new "8:15AM appointment line.” My new position looks grimmer than the old one. Only 10 people are behind me in line! The line doesn't advance for 20 minutes.
8:30AM - We discover there is another 8:15 line... the line I originally was in! I've lost about 50 places in line by my switch.
9:10AM - An official starts calling the "9:15'ers" to line up; we start to panic. My "line mate,” Flavia, presses forward to get information. When she finally returns she tells me that all they told her was that she has a 10AM appointment, though her slip clearly says 8:15.
9:20 AM - Finally our papers are collected as we are shuffled through door #2 into a packed waiting room. They tell us, "Line up by the white wall.”
There are three white walls and masses of people. One white wall boasts a sign “HAGA FILA.” After lots of mumbling among ourselves, we finally determine there are no lines.
9:40 AM Every once in a while an official randomly appears in the room, calling out names. The masses migrate towards that spot, hoping to hear their names called. I can hear about 50% of the names called. No one seems sure whose name has been called. One interesting observation: when they call the occasional Chinese name the whole crowd laughs aloud. I’m glad I’m not Chinese here today. I fret over whether they will manage to pronounce my own English name. I’d hate to have 500 people laugh at my name!
There are rumors that one door is for residency card renewals, but no one seems to know. It’s fascinating to hear rumors fly in this crowd!
Two people told me my name was already called. I struggle to get information, but there is no way to verify it. I resort to asking the unfriendly, unhelpful guard. His terse reply is, "Wait to see. They'll call again."
10:00 AM - It seems like they call about 20 names per hour. The odds of mine being called today seem slim. My back is aching from standing so long. Thank God, one of the 40 chairs in the room frees up and I can sit down!
10:15 AM – I try hard to focus on a Bible study I brought along with me. It is one I’ve studied before on the fruit of the Spirit. It seems an appropriate subject to focus on. Scribbled in the margin on one page were these words in my handwriting: "Help me see this today! (Residency visa rejected. 3-18-04) Obviously, I had studied this very subject at a previous point in my immigration struggles.
You can trust only One to constantly be on the lookout for your best interests. Only One holds the future in His hands and knows Your part in that future.
10:30 AM - They just called one person to sign her residency card! I think that’s the first person in three hours to actually accomplish their goal. One down, hundreds to go. Averaging one every three hours. How long will that take?
11:30 AM – A woman from immigration filters through the crowds, checking papers. She looks at mine and states, "Firma." I know that means signature, but what am I supposed to do!?! I chase her and pester her for more specifics.
Her only reply?
"Wait."
A bystander overhears the interchange and tells me to go to the adjacent room to line #1.
A sign over Line 1 says, “Firma.” Wow! This sounds positive! I try to pass, only to be turned back by another official.
“Until we call your name, you cannot get in this line.” Several people join me in complaining that we can’t hear the names called and have no idea where they call out the names for signatures. He says, “I don’t know. You just have to be in that room and listen carefully.”
Another very angry official shows up and yells at me and the other information-seekers.
“If you aren't in other room when I call your name, you will be eliminated from the process.”
He waves a chart and says, “This person wasn’t in there and I’m filing the chart right now!” A man next to me shouts, “Whose chart is it?” But, it’s too late. That file and who knows how many others are out of play for today.
My anxiety level is rising. Chances are good that my name has been called and I never knew. I begin exchanging names with others and we pact to listen for one another’s names.
10:40 AM I elbow my way through the crowd back to the white walls. I decide to try asking the door guard again for information. He must know something!
He says, “Go to the back of the room.” Who knows which part of the room is the back of the room?!? I press him for clarification and finally he grunts, “By the chairs!”
11:15 AM I hear a voice call, "Number 4!"
Hundreds run, trying to locate the voice. I wonder, “What in the world does ‘number 4’ mean?!? I opt not to run, since I’ve managed to find a chair again. Good call! Nothing comes from the “Number 4” call.
11:45 AM- I meet a German woman, helping a fellow German through the immigration process. She had several enlightening comments. She says it's very likely I will wait 7 hours and never get in. She tells me they called an emergency meeting @ 9 bcause there were 300 falsified appointment slips presented for 8:15. She introduces me to a Cuban woman named Jency, saying we might as well be friends, since we are both in the same boat.
We hear someone call out, "8:15!"
At least 100 people shout, waving umbrellas. I press forward to consult Flavia, a previous line mate and name detective.
“Flavia, what’s happening?”
“Nothing. They just called out our time, but that’s all.”
I find a vacant seat near Yency. I feel for her – she’s here with her seven year old son, enduring all of this.
12:15 PM We hear another voice. Though I didn’t hear what was said, Yency says, “Let’s go!” Once again we all ran. I couldn't believe my own ears! The third name called was close to mine.
Susan Janet.
No one laughs. The crowd makes room for me to pass. I am handed a paper and given a one word command: REGRESE. "Come back."
Incredulous, I turn to those surrounding me.
"Did he just tell me to come back?"
Somberly, empathetically they all nod.
Scribbled at the top of my appointment slip it says, "Return on October 12th."
As I fend my way through the crowds to Door #2, I cry. I don’t even care that others see me crying. They understand
Through my tears, I ask the door guard where to get in line when I return on the 12th. He gives me yet another vague reply, sweeping his arm. "Who can know?" he shrugs.
That was the phrase that echoed in my mind as I spent five hours in immigration on Tuesday.
Woody says my story reminds him of the Wizard of Oz. Dorothy finally manages to get an appointment to see the Wizard and is told to come back later. She learns there really is no such thing as an appointment with the Wizard.
Once again, I wished I had a camera at the immigration offices. Almost everywhere you turn, you can see a sign that says,
"Haga fila ."
If you want to learn Spanish, learn that phrase. It means, “Form a line.”
I don’t think it really matters where or for what purpose, but the key is simply to form a line.
Haga fila.
I’ll paste below my journal which I wrote in my Sony Clié as I spent those five hours in immigration.
7:30AM
HAGA FILA
I have seen two of those signs so far today. Lines should indicate someone knows something -that there is some purpose at the end of the line.
I first get in a line about 200 people long. There are no signs or officials to ask what the line is for. Everyone I asked was just guessing, but all those around me also had 8:15 appointments to have their residency card signed or renewed, so I must be in the right line. We see an official passing down the line, collecting appointment slips. The stack in his hand is about 3 inches deep so far. He suddenly disappears after getting within 50 feet of me.
8:10 AM - We have advanced a half block. The paper-collecting official suddenly reappears at door #2, shouting, "8:15 appointments!" 100 of us run to door #2, only to be turned away en masse. One or two manage to "dip their toes first in the stirred waters."
The rest of us hear and spread the rumor that there was a new "8:15AM appointment line.” My new position looks grimmer than the old one. Only 10 people are behind me in line! The line doesn't advance for 20 minutes.
8:30AM - We discover there is another 8:15 line... the line I originally was in! I've lost about 50 places in line by my switch.
9:10AM - An official starts calling the "9:15'ers" to line up; we start to panic. My "line mate,” Flavia, presses forward to get information. When she finally returns she tells me that all they told her was that she has a 10AM appointment, though her slip clearly says 8:15.
9:20 AM - Finally our papers are collected as we are shuffled through door #2 into a packed waiting room. They tell us, "Line up by the white wall.”
There are three white walls and masses of people. One white wall boasts a sign “HAGA FILA.” After lots of mumbling among ourselves, we finally determine there are no lines.
9:40 AM Every once in a while an official randomly appears in the room, calling out names. The masses migrate towards that spot, hoping to hear their names called. I can hear about 50% of the names called. No one seems sure whose name has been called. One interesting observation: when they call the occasional Chinese name the whole crowd laughs aloud. I’m glad I’m not Chinese here today. I fret over whether they will manage to pronounce my own English name. I’d hate to have 500 people laugh at my name!
There are rumors that one door is for residency card renewals, but no one seems to know. It’s fascinating to hear rumors fly in this crowd!
Two people told me my name was already called. I struggle to get information, but there is no way to verify it. I resort to asking the unfriendly, unhelpful guard. His terse reply is, "Wait to see. They'll call again."
10:00 AM - It seems like they call about 20 names per hour. The odds of mine being called today seem slim. My back is aching from standing so long. Thank God, one of the 40 chairs in the room frees up and I can sit down!
10:15 AM – I try hard to focus on a Bible study I brought along with me. It is one I’ve studied before on the fruit of the Spirit. It seems an appropriate subject to focus on. Scribbled in the margin on one page were these words in my handwriting: "Help me see this today! (Residency visa rejected. 3-18-04) Obviously, I had studied this very subject at a previous point in my immigration struggles.
You can trust only One to constantly be on the lookout for your best interests. Only One holds the future in His hands and knows Your part in that future.
10:30 AM - They just called one person to sign her residency card! I think that’s the first person in three hours to actually accomplish their goal. One down, hundreds to go. Averaging one every three hours. How long will that take?
11:30 AM – A woman from immigration filters through the crowds, checking papers. She looks at mine and states, "Firma." I know that means signature, but what am I supposed to do!?! I chase her and pester her for more specifics.
Her only reply?
"Wait."
A bystander overhears the interchange and tells me to go to the adjacent room to line #1.
A sign over Line 1 says, “Firma.” Wow! This sounds positive! I try to pass, only to be turned back by another official.
“Until we call your name, you cannot get in this line.” Several people join me in complaining that we can’t hear the names called and have no idea where they call out the names for signatures. He says, “I don’t know. You just have to be in that room and listen carefully.”
Another very angry official shows up and yells at me and the other information-seekers.
“If you aren't in other room when I call your name, you will be eliminated from the process.”
He waves a chart and says, “This person wasn’t in there and I’m filing the chart right now!” A man next to me shouts, “Whose chart is it?” But, it’s too late. That file and who knows how many others are out of play for today.
My anxiety level is rising. Chances are good that my name has been called and I never knew. I begin exchanging names with others and we pact to listen for one another’s names.
10:40 AM I elbow my way through the crowd back to the white walls. I decide to try asking the door guard again for information. He must know something!
He says, “Go to the back of the room.” Who knows which part of the room is the back of the room?!? I press him for clarification and finally he grunts, “By the chairs!”
11:15 AM I hear a voice call, "Number 4!"
Hundreds run, trying to locate the voice. I wonder, “What in the world does ‘number 4’ mean?!? I opt not to run, since I’ve managed to find a chair again. Good call! Nothing comes from the “Number 4” call.
11:45 AM- I meet a German woman, helping a fellow German through the immigration process. She had several enlightening comments. She says it's very likely I will wait 7 hours and never get in. She tells me they called an emergency meeting @ 9 bcause there were 300 falsified appointment slips presented for 8:15. She introduces me to a Cuban woman named Jency, saying we might as well be friends, since we are both in the same boat.
We hear someone call out, "8:15!"
At least 100 people shout, waving umbrellas. I press forward to consult Flavia, a previous line mate and name detective.
“Flavia, what’s happening?”
“Nothing. They just called out our time, but that’s all.”
I find a vacant seat near Yency. I feel for her – she’s here with her seven year old son, enduring all of this.
12:15 PM We hear another voice. Though I didn’t hear what was said, Yency says, “Let’s go!” Once again we all ran. I couldn't believe my own ears! The third name called was close to mine.
Susan Janet.
No one laughs. The crowd makes room for me to pass. I am handed a paper and given a one word command: REGRESE. "Come back."
Incredulous, I turn to those surrounding me.
"Did he just tell me to come back?"
Somberly, empathetically they all nod.
Scribbled at the top of my appointment slip it says, "Return on October 12th."
As I fend my way through the crowds to Door #2, I cry. I don’t even care that others see me crying. They understand
Through my tears, I ask the door guard where to get in line when I return on the 12th. He gives me yet another vague reply, sweeping his arm. "Who can know?" he shrugs.
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