It was a lot of waiting. It was not the worst of times, but I’m not sure if anything got done.
Monday was paperwork day here in Peru.
First, Vanessa and I had an “appointment” at the United States Embassy. Then, I had an appointment with the Peruvian National Police for reasons I’m still not that sure of.
Our first stop was the U.S. Embassy or as I like to call it “The fortress of democracy”. It’s a huge building surrounded by a 15 foot high wall, armed guards and national police tanks. You have to wait in line to go in, then pass two security checkpoints where you are searched airport style, with out the taking off the shoes part. Cameras and cell phones are not allowed in the Embassy, so you have to leave them at the first checkpoint.
Vanessa’s appointment with Uncle Sam was supposed to begin at 8:45 a.m., but bureaucrats work on their own clock I suppose. We arrived at the Embassy around 8, waited in line, and were then ushered into a waiting room with about 100 others. The room was nice for a waiting room, it wasn’t the DMV. It was clean with dark wood-paneled walls and cushioned bushes without backs.
Vanessa was called first to turn in her paperwork to one window, then called back because her pictures were not the right “size”. So we had to leave the fortress and get her picture taken. This isn’t that hard. There are literally a half-dozen storefronts offering passport pictures while you wait outside the Embassy walls. Of course, they charge almost triple the usual price, but you’re paying for convenience.
With pictures in hand we were finally called for our interview around 10:45. It wasn’t really an interview so much as we talked to an American woman (from Wisconsin!) through a thick window of what I can only assume is bulletproof glass. She told us we are only a form and a waiver away from a Visa for Vanessa, but its the visa we don’t want. Plus, we don’t have the waiver yet. That is expected to take a year. It’s good to have options.
Later that afternoon Mita took me to the national police station. I had to prove that I worked at the Hotel California. The police asked for a bunch of paperwork, the pencil pusher inside the office only looked at my Peruvian ID and passport. But I’m getting ahead of myself.
The two offices couldn’t be more different. No real security at the police HQ except they wrote down my I.D. number at the door. Then we walked up a dusty staircase to the office. Inside we waited on a few beat up sofas that looked like they were taken directly from a college student’s apartment. Sitting on the largest sofa was a man who said he was the “boss” of the office. He told us to wait, while he chatted on his cell phone.
Thirty minutes later we were taken back to an office about the size of a one car garage. Inside three agents were working while two were reading the paper. The boss had moved his cell phone chatting operation to a large desk in the back of the room with a Peruvian flag perched on top.
Our agent seemed friendly at first. He began filling out a form on the computer and asking me questions. This whole trip could have lasted 10 minutes, if he knew how to type. Instead he pecked his way across the keyboard while we answered. Then he asked for “proof” of my college degree and wondered why I got the job if I’m not a teacher. Thankfully my mother-in-law explained I didn’t have to be a teacher to work at Hotel California and he seemed to calm down a bit.
When he was done, I got behind his desk and corrected his mistakes. Like my name, my parents name, our address in Peru, etc. As I said before I’m still not sure why I had to show up for this appointment, but I’m still working so that’s a good thing.
