When I Moved to Costa Rica, Illegally - Pt. 2

If you're lost, click here for part one!! 

     “Starting the process” wasn’t as simple as it sounded but for time sake, we’ll skip those gory details. Let’s just say it involved, among other things, me/Charlie (the Spanish speaking boyfriend of Megan) writing a letter detailing who I am, why I’m here, and why I need an extension.

     We finally left with the plan that Megan and I would go back the following Monday to complete the paperwork and be done once and for all.

Ha.

Yeah right.

     Remember when they said I “might” have to pay $100? Well, by ‘might’ they mean ‘definitely.’ And they didn’t mean “go to our finance office and pay a lady behind a desk $100 then bring us the receipt.” They meant, “Go to this specific bank and deposit this specific amount into this specific account.” So bright and early Monday morning, Megan and I set out to San Jose to finish this madness. Between here (home) and San Jose there are a couple of different towns with the bank I needed. EXCEPT THAT the banks open at 9 and by 8:45, which is when we arrived, the line was literally wrapped around the building.

Every. Single. Bank. Between. Here. And. There.

I. AM. NOT. EXAGGERATING.

     So as we approached the mall, Megan remembered that there was a branch of the bank we needed inside the mall and surely, the line wouldn’t be as long. We parked and walked up to the door to realize that the mall didn’t open until 10 am so we did the only logical thing and went to get coffee right outside the mall. 

     As soon as the mall door opened, we went straight to the bank only to see that it didn’t open until 11 am. So we walked around and killed a little time until the bank opened and we got in line. Just before our number was called, I realized that I didn’t bring with me the account number that we were supposed to deposit the money into. With high hopes, we asked the teller if perhaps he knew the account number for immigration. Naturally, immigration has 85 million account numbers and this guy needed me to tell him which one I wanted to give him money for. So we got BACK out of line, went to the car, got the paperwork and returned to the bank. We got a NEW number, got BACK in line and waited for our turn. The NEXT time our number was called I gave the teller everything he needed including my debit card to pay the $100. FINALLY... we were making progress.

Ha.

In my dreams.

     The bank’s online communication for credit cards was down and the teller so gently told me that I needed to go to the ATM and get cash. Lucky for me, this bank had an ATM right outside it’s door and this nice teller would let me back in line without getting a new number. We went outside, got in line for the ATM, and waited. When it was finally our turn, I stepped up to the computer screen only to realize that it was out of money. BOTH of them.

Seriously?????

      So we went around the corner of the mall searching for another bank with working ATM’s until finally we found a bank with 4 ATM stations outside of it. Pretty good odds, eh? ONE of the four worked for me and I was on my way back to the bank I needed. We finished our business there at 12:10 pm. So we left the mall with the plan that we would go BACK to immigration later in the week to turn in the bank receipt and the rest of the paperwork.

     The following Thursday, Megan and I went to immigration at 9 am and I told my substitute, “I should be back by lunch.” 

...... 

Stay tuned for part 3 :) 

When I Moved to Costa Rica, Illegally - Pt. 1

     

      If I could describe this season of my life in one word it would be: inconvenience. I mean, just getting here legally is a story in itself, not to mention the every day things that will drive a girl mad. But before we get ahead of ourselves, allow me to share with you the story that many of you have asked about. A lot of you probably saw my mom’s Facebook status or a random post from me about immigration so here is the full story of my 84758423957 hours spent in the hellish place called La Oficina de Migration. But first, you need to know a little background information. No one is allowed to come into Costa Rica for more than a few days without proof that they are in fact leaving. So if you're staying more than about a week or so, (like me), you need to show a plane/bus/train ticket that proves you WILL leave Costa Rica in a timely manner. If you do not have this, they can legally put you back on a plane (or whatever) and, at your expense, send you back to where ever you came from.

     In case you're wondering, I was one of the lucky people who got in without an exit ticket. But it caused quite the uproar, to say the least. Here is the full account: 

     On Wednesday, Aug. 21 my mom and I entered Costa Rica with 8 suitcases and excited hearts. I wasn’t nervous at all but rather excited for what God was stirring up between the CR and me. (Duh, I know it’s not called “the Costa Rica” but I like it, so work with me here). We went through the maze of the airport and finally reached immigration where my mom told the officer she would be here for one week. He gave her a 10 day visa and asked for my passport. Without hesitation, he stamped mine for the same: 10 days. As soon I noticed it, I corrected him but it was too late. He asked two different men before telling me that I needed to go to the immigration office in San Jose to ask for an extension. “No big deal,” I thought. I’ll run up there tomorrow and do it real quick.

Ha.

Yeah right.

     That Friday my mom, Marielos (my host mom), and I went to San Jose to get my extension.  Let me pause here and tell you that getting around from town to town is not convenient if you do not know where you are going. Even if you DO know where you are going, it still takes 3-4 different busses and a LOT of walking to get to immigration. (Or at least it did for us that day). Once we arrived, we so graciously received “the run around” and went to about 4 different lines before we found someone who could tell us what to do. Keep in mind that neither my mom nor myself speak Spanish so we were totally dependent on Marielos. I finally found someone who spoke Spanglish and I figured out that I need to buy an exit ticket from the country and possibly pay $100 in order to get my extension. They handed me some random brochure in Spanish and sent me on my way.

$100.

Possibly.

But it could be less, they said.

???????

     Moving on. Frustrated, we left. I talked to my friend Megan who has two things I desperately needed: a car and a boyfriend who speaks Spanish. We coordinated our schedules and found a time that all three of us could put our lives on hold, travel to San Jose’s Tica Bus station, buy me an exit ticket, and head back to the immigration office. I’m a teacher, right? I have school and responsibilities so we went after I got out of school at 2 pm. By the time we got to the office it was about 3:30 pm which was fine because no office with any sense would close before 4 pm, right? 

Ha.

Let's keep going.

     The visa/residency office was closed. They close at ..... 12 pm. (Yes, you read that correctly. The office that is in the highest demand for the whole country is open from 7 am to 12 pm. It makes so much sense). However, being the stubborn one that I am, I walked throughout the building until I found someone who spoke English and was willing to listen to me whine about my little “situation.” Jose was his name, and he was a nice man. Except that he couldn’t complete all of my paperwork that day. Why, you ask? Remember the random little brochure in Spanish. Yeah... that was a list of NINE different things I needed to bring with me to get my extension. He told me to bring it back Monday. When I started having a mini freak out moment on him ... something like, “Sir. You don’t understand. I don’t live here. I live in Heredia. I am a teacher. I have a job. I can’t just come here whenever I want. I don’t have a car. I don’t speak Spanish. My 10 days expire tomorrow, Monday will be too late. I need to find a translator and a ride and take off work and....” You get the picture. He finally said, “Ok, if you have half of the paperwork today, I can start your process and you can bring the rest Monday.”  

Click here for part 2!!