FM3, Finally

I showed up at Immigration at 9.30 AM.  The man attending to me looked up my case on the computer then as me if I had paid the money for the tourist visa.  I dropped my head and shoulders in exasperation. Si, pagado hace once dias   Si,  recibo hace once dias  I said in a bored here-we-go-again monotone.  He understood: I had dealt with this 11 days ago.  Fortunately the guy who I had given the "high seven" two days previously was in the next cage and leaned over and told my attendant about my case.  The man went away for 10 minutes then returned and asked me to return at 1 PM.  He said something about "firma" which suggested to me that a signature was required.  He actually looked apologetic when he asked me to return.

I peddled my way back in the heat of the day and hallelujah, the FM3 procedure had been completed.  The man took my thumb prints, pasted my photos on the various forms, and produced my laminated FM3 card.

Then I asked him for my U.S. passport.

He replied that they never keep passports.  They may have looked at my passport but would have given it back.  He was so emphatic that I figured that he must be correct because he would be enunciating organizational policy, and I must have forgotten that I had put it safely away.  ... Except that I couldn't find it either in the apartment or on the boat.  I looked in every likely place.  I couldn't understand how I could have lost it because I handle my passports with great care and respect verging on reverence.  Let's just say that I wouldn't stick one in my back pocket and go shopping at WalMart.

I decided to take the big step of alerting the U.S. consulate of the situation.  Fortunately I looked in my blog to establish first day of the FM3 process and that's what saved me. In the entry for 12 July was the statement " I am to return in 10 days to pick up my new FM3 card - and my US passport!" I knew then that Immigration had - or was supposed to have - my passport.  It was 4 PM so I got on the bike and raced to the immigration office hoping that they were indeed open until 6 PM, otherwise I would have to wait until Monday to deal with it.  I found the place open, sort of.  The door was open, there were a few men talking in the waiting area, but all of the computer terminals had been removed from the counter.  The place was functionally closed.  Soon I saw the same guy who had gotten a face full of my 7 fingers two days earlier and told him  that I needed my passport, it was very important, and they had it.  He looked under the counter then shook his head saying that they didn't have it.

Let's think about this.  They've just moved into the new premises, so why would my passport be under the counter?  I told him that I needed to speak with someone in English because this was very important.  He went away for 5 minutes and returned with my passport in hand, explaining that it had been separated from my file.   So much for the earlier very emphatic statement that they never keep passports.  Had they not found the passport I would not have had a leg to stand on because they do not give a receipt when one hands in this most important document.

It left me thinking that Immigration is an organization driven not by policy and procedures and protocols, but rather by the whim of whomever happens to be at the counter at the time.  Bob has told me that he has gotten an adverse answer from them, returned the next day, and received the desired answer from somebody else. 

I peddled back from my 9th visit to Immigration - 3 on this day - hot and tired but satisfied that I finally had both my FM3 and passport.