Ssh, Don´t tell anyone. I´m illegally in Bolivia

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I woke up this morning officially illegally in Bolivia. My visa ran out yesterday and I was meant to get it renewed by jumping across the border into Peru and back while I was in Copacabana this weekend. While in Copa, I was warned that they would not look kindly to people doing this and that you really need a minimum stay of 24 hours, recommended 72, in Peru before you come back. I neither have the time to stay in Peru for 24 hours or the mindset to spend any more time on any more buses then I had to that weekend. So I thought ¨No, flag it. I will just pay the 165 B´s in town on Monday¨.

Do you remember from the last blog the test it took just to find out the above information? I will recap for you.

¨…It involved going to the British Embassy first who sent me to the La Paz Immigration Department in another part of town who sent me to another Immigration department in another part of town who sent me back to the first Immigration department. After all that I found out that I can renew my visa for 165 Bolivianos at window 9 in the original Immigration building…¨

Armed with what I thought was solid information and my splattering of Spanish I set out this morning to resolve my illegality issue. I arrived at the original Immigration Department and went straight to window 9, thankfully empty, windows 1 through 7 were packed to bulging and I was hoping I wouldn’t need to venture into their murky waters.

The lady at window 9 promptly and with little fanfare sent me to window 12; at least I wasn’t in 1 to 7 territory. 12 was empty too so I strode right up and gave my passport to the man behind his glass and asked for ¨another 30 day visa please¨ That much Spanish I can handle. Oh, there’s a problem, what a surprised. Apparently I need to photocopy every page in my Passport and come back. Ok, ¨Donde is una fotocopia¨ Oh, really you don’t have one. Ok. I will be right back.

Down the street I found a photocopy place and photocopied all the pages in my passport, except the empty ones. I was hoping their enthusiasm for bureaucracy would spread that far. Back to window 12, short wait. Pass my photocopies and my passport back and ask again for another 30 day visa. He looks through my papers. Initials each one, staples them. Oh, no staples. Finds some staples. Staples them together, writes something on the outside and sends me to back to window 9. At least I’m still in familiar territory and still skirting the swap of 1 to 7.

Did I mention I have a very large heavy backpack on because I haven’t had a chance to get out to Alalay to get rid of it. No, well I did. At window 9, handing over my passport and stapled photocopies, can I please have another 30 day visa? She takes a lot of time looking through all the photocopied papers and then my passport. Does she realise what a photocopy is?

Then she goes through her draws and gets out a small colourful square. I´m thinking “yes, almost there”. It looks official and visa-ish and she takes great time sticking it to the inside of my passport. I can feel the sun on my face as I’m thinking about getting on my way. She goes back to her draw and gets out a manila folder and some more papers with lots of empty spaces that need to be filled in on them. I was so close.

At this stage I pay for my visa and I’m presently surprised that the price from last week is the same. I hand over the 165 B´s and she hands me everything in return. I have to fill out the forms and the cover of the manila folder and then take the rest to Window 10. Yippie, I’m meeting so many new people today. This is all just information I get the gist off, she speaks rapid Spanish and I only understand Spanish spoken in 1st gear, going up a hill.

I take my manila folder, new sheets of paper with horrible blanks to fill out, photocopies, passport and heavy backpack and find a place to sit and write. You know what’s coming. No place to sit and write. Its windows and standing room only. Outside I find a pen and nice piece of pavement and begin to fill in the forms.

I’m looking at a lot of evil empty spaces that I need to fill in and its all in Spanish. I haven’t got a clue what needs to be in which box. What needs to be on what line. I struggle through it and fill in a tiny fraction of what’s there. I take a deep breath, swallow and approach window 10 and hand over my papers with the gaping gaps that stare back at me accusingly.

The gaps don’t faze her. She looks through some of it, looks through my passport and puts everything inside the manila folder with its 30 boxes and only one filled out with my name. She then prints a receipt, hands that to me and puts the folder with my passport init under the desk. WHAT THE!

I’m a bit dazed and I’m struggling to understand what she is telling me. Eventually I get the gist that I have to come back tomorrow at 4pm to continue this joyful ride. I almost leave without asking what window. Window 10 she says as if it would be any other. As I leave I’m thinking about all those bank spaces and how I just know they are going to bite me in the ass tomorrow. I can picture a Bolivian behind a window seeing the emptiness and putting my folder in a pile to be redone tomorrow. Joy.

So illegally in Bolivia and now without a passport I wonder outside and start to think, what the heck just happened? What planet am I on? It must be Planet Bureaucracy in the galaxy of Insane next to the Red Tape Quasar… Join in tomorrow or sometime in the future from a galaxy far far away and far far crazy then yours where I determined young man will attempt the impossible.

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