An Adventure in Bureaucracy

I was sitting around doing a little light reading when I noticed that my visa had expired a week ago. Not the money type visa, but type says I can stay here. Being Friday afternoon and Monday being election day, I had all weekend to research my future prospects. The interweb is full of stories of $80,000 fines and months in jail before permanent deportation.

The more realistic possibilities were $25 per day fine. I don't know if that sounded more realistic or if that was just the cheapest possibility. Anyway, Monday morning, I went down to the Bureau of Immigration.

Did you know that in the Philippines it is considered very unfashionable to put numbers on your house or business? They don't exist anywhere. It is also thought to be the apex of humor to put a right angle turn in the middle of a street and keep the same street name.

It took us over three hours to find this place. We where very unmanly and stopped to ask the traffic enforcers for directions many times. This process was not aided by my driver always asking for the American Embassy, which we had found many times, while I shouted "Bureau of Immigration" over and over from the back seat.

An hour after I had reached my maximum frustration level, compounded by 90 F heat in a small suv, we found it. I was almost ready to do my crazy American thing.

It this point there are a number of things that happened that I don't understand. The driver (drayber) grabbed me by the arm and marched me into the building like he was about to arraign me or something. He picked up a form from the front desk and I did my best to fill it out. Then he took if and my passport from me and presented it to the first available clerk. After a few seconds this clerk starts laughing uncontrollably. He passes it around to at least a dozen people, each of whom is overcome with mirth. I finally got Julius to let me in on the joke. It turns out that the immigration guy at the airport had stamped on my passport that I was a returning filipina.

This means 1) I am a native resident of the Philippines returning from travel and 2) I am a girl.

Because my passport and visa were now defective I was sent to the infamous floor 3 to get it fixed. After another round of merriment, the clerk said I could get a 21 day extension to give me time to fix it. When I asked what I should do to fix it. he shrugged. He explained that because of the error I would have to renew it every 21 days for up to a year.

At this point, I think things happened that were not official policy. Julius asked for an additional $50 and he and the clerk went into a back room. In a few minutes they came out and Julius handed me the Passport and proudly announced "good for one year now." I will leave the analysis of this transaction to the gentle reader.

Then ol' Julius takes me in that "perp walk" grip and hustles me out of the building and back to his car.

At least that mission has been accomplished and is no longer a worry.

Now, since we are in the area, it's time to look for the US VA Clinic. You remember how hard it was to find the Bureau of Immigration? Multiply that by 10 for the clinic.

I had the street address (lol) and a description of "about a kilometer south of the embassy." We went up and back several times before we finally located it. Literally another hour.

The clinic here is a little different. Filipinos seem to have an affinity for chrome pump shotguns.,
They let us in the guard shack and Julius was allowed to go with me. I went in to the main desk and they had me fill out a form and take it to Mercy in room 3. I thought a little mercy would be good about now.

After a wait another clerk started entering me into the computer not using any of the information on the form I had filled out. Lots and lots of questions about my address (why is there a number before your street name?).

It didn't help that Julius was helping with the answers.

After an hour or so I was all registered and my files electronically sent here and an appointment made for my initial visit.

So how was your day?