Almost Illegal

Today makes one month since we arrived in Mexico and I can't believe how much we've done since then. Yesterday, just in the nick of time, we got our immigration sorted out, which was beyond an ordeal. Let me break it down: in order to get our residency cards, we had to make an appointment at the immigration office in the state capital of Pachuca, which is an hour and fifteen minutes from us by bus. I was told that you couldn't call to make an appointment, you just had to go. I sort of procrastinated dealing with it, then it turned out the day we'd planned to go was the only day our bed could be delivered, and, you know, priorities. But we headed off the next day, determined, though I had to take time off from teaching to do it. 

Nice and early we caught the bus in Tepatepec. The ride is not uninteresting. You go through a series of small towns until you reach Actopan, one of the largest cities in Hidalgo. I can't call it beautiful by any means, but I'm only viewing it from the main drag. After Actopan, you hit the open road as the bus climbs in elevation toward Pachuca. The scenery is of mountains and soaring rock formation, landscapes of green, dotted with cactus. It makes me think of Arizona except that it's so much more lush. Eventually, your ears pop. You've reached a summit of over 8,000 ft. Then you descend into a valley with Pachuca spread out below. It is not a beautiful city either, though the Universidad Autónoma del Estado de Hidalgo catches your eye on the right, modern and sleek with a very good reputation. 

Our Lady of the Bus Station

We had asked the bus driver to let us off near the immigration office, so at a certain point he waved us off the bus and in some vague direction. As we walked, we realized we would never find it on foot. We were hesitant to flag a taxi, as we were told never to do so, at least in Mexico City. And yet, Uber doesn't exist in Pachuca. Desperate, we waved at a few passing cabs until one stopped. He took us right to the office, no problem, for about two bucks.

 

There, we were asked if we had an appointment, which, of course, we did not. The lady behind the window glared at our documents, told us what we'd done wrong and what we were missing, and admonished us to return the following Tuesday at 2:00. Sigh. Another missed day of teaching and another long bus ride to and from Pachuca. We left the office, flagged a cab, and had driver take us to the Central de Autobuses, where we could get a ticket and hop a bus home. The Central is modern and clean, and you can get food there.

 

On our way home, we were treated to a half an hour performance by this random clown who got on the bus and proceeded to tell bad jokes (in Spanish of course, thus sparing Jon the agony) and then played a very loud song about a son who didn't appreciate his father - kind of like "Cat's in the Cradle," Mexican version. When this torture ended, he played more sappy songs and then collected money. Nuh-uh, this idiot wasn't getting a dime from me. Though this kind of busking is reminiscent of the NY subway, at least there it's quick and usually not bad. 

 

Ok. The following Tuesday we got the bus once again and endured the hour and fifteen minute ride.  I was very nervous because we were right up against the deadline for how long we could be in Mexico without having our residency card. The same lady glared at our documents again and said we were missing copies of our visas and pointed out errors in an online document I'd filled out and printed. I was like, um, what do I do? I can't go all the way back home and do it again. She was like no, go to the internet café down the street, fill it out again online, print it, and make the copies. Now, I'm genuinely freaking out. The correct page on the site is hard to find and I had no confidence I could do it under pressure. But I did. My hands shaking, I managed to fill out the form, get everything printed and copied, and make it back to the office before the time on our appointment had run out. This time, she didn't glare. She approved everything, we signed everything, and then she handed us a piece of paper each. "This is your temporary document. Keep it on you until you return on Friday, which is when we'll take your pictures and give you your permanent card." Wait, what? Return on Friday? Another bus ride to Pachuca? I didn't even bother objecting. What could we do?

 

On the bus ride home, we were again entertained, this time by some kid who got on with a karaoke machine and proceeded to sing loudly and badly for a half an hour. Is there no God? Well, at least we are "legal" now, even though we don't have our permanent cards yet. The process is basically completed and we won't be ejected from Mexico. Jon and I reflected on how much more heinous the process is for Mexicans wishing to obtain residency in the US. I know for a fact it can take months, and that's for those with documentation. We all know what happens to those without. As an American, with a scholarship that allows me to be in the country for nine months, I'm incredibly lucky. I swear that on that next bus ride to Pachuca, I won't complain. 

 

(Well, I did complain, but we got our cards! In my picture I look like Francis McDormand on her very worst day, and Jon looks like Brian Cranston in Breaking Bad.)

 

Miguel Hidalgo, Leader of the Mexican War of Independence,
As Seen From Our Cab Window