Time to catch up

I've been neglectful of this blog lately. I've stayed pretty busy in January and February, but, too, there's be very little newsworthy too report. Mostly it's been downtime since the auction, the holidays, and Derek's visit; just getting back too normal.

I meet my friends Charly and Deb every other week or so to discuss books, but the three of us took the big step of joining a recently-formed book club. Deb had been agitating about starting one for some time, but I didn't want any more organizational responsibility--the garden club and Bid 4 Boquete are sufficiently exhausting--and I feared that our reading choices likely were too sophisticated for most casual readers. I was contacted by another friend, however, begging me to be part of a new book group and I decided to try it out. It looked good, so I begged the group to allow Deb and Charly to participate. So far so good, but the ultimate success remains to be seen. We've already lost one member who was out of her depth, and have acquired another member in her place. Doc was keen to join, but the women decided that a man would alter the group dynamics for the worse. Besides, we're trying to keep it to under 10 members.

I took a two-day road trip last week with some garden club members to Costa Rica to visit The Wilson Botanical Gardens at the Las Cruces Biological Station near San Vito. We hired a local man who runs a school transport van, as school is recessed during January and February, coffee-picking time. We exited the country at Rio Sereno, a remote immigration outpost not far from San Vito, rather than via Paso Canoas, the principal immigration station between Panama and Costa Rica. We sailed through in about 40 minutes (rather than the usual two or three hours reportedly required at Pasa Canoas) and made it to the gardens in time for lunch. We stayed on site and did a short botanical tour that afternoon, a slightly longer one that night under a full moon, and a long guided tour the next morning before setting on on our return. It was a lovely place, and I'm now armed with new gardening ideas and a long list of new plants to ferret out.

As you may recall from past blog posts, I, and every expat I know, live in perpetual dread of encounters with Panamanian bureaucracy. Unfortunately, both of our driver's licenses came up for renewal this month. Troublesome at the best of times, renewal promised to be downright daunting this time as a result of our having gotten new passports with new passport numbers since the original licenses were issued. All official documents of foreigners are tied to the passport number--the national i.d. card (carnet or cedula), motor vehicle registration, and driver's license--so when the passport number changes all bureaucracy (hell) breaks loose. I had already had my vehicle title changed to reflect the new passport number, but I nonetheless set out with trepidation for Migracion (Immigration) in David to ascertain what tortures had been devised. The reports were many and various, and I thought it best to leave Larry at home until I found out what was in store and how best to navigate it. He's inclined to go absolutely wild in Panamanian government offices, and for good reason. Personnel there are very clever about changing the rules from day to day and from employee to employee.

I set out at 8:15 on a Monday morning about three weeks ago and arrived in David (normally a 30 to 45 minute trip) at 10:00 due to interminable delays related to the road widening. As usual, it was approximately 110 degrees in David, the traffic downtown was frighteningly chaotic, and there was no parking anywhere near the Migracion office. Once I made it inside and fought my way to the front desk and explained what I needed, I was directed to a small side room with a sign saying "Visas." When I got there, I was taken back out to the front desk, where I surrendered both my old and new passports and my Panamanian cedula. Some computer work was done, and my new passport was stamped "Registrado." I was sent back to the Visa room, where I was directed back to the front, to the cashier, to pay $25. Returning with the receipt, I was told to fill out a form asking for all sorts of personal information unrelated to either my passport or driver's license. I was told that the form would be sent to Panama City and that I should return in two weeks before going to the driver's license office.

Two weeks later I returned to find the Migracion office closed for no ostensible or noticed reason. I elected to go straight to Sertracen (the private company contracted to issue driver licenses) far outside of town at the Chiriqui Mall, armed with all my documents of identification and two fat files of vehicle information and everything else that might, even unreasonably, be pertinent. There was a long line, of course. (Panamanians don't mind waiting in line; in fact, they consider it a social occasion.) Once having reached the front desk, I was asked for my passports, my cedula, and my current license and was told to take a seat. No mention of anything from Migracion or vehicle registration being needed. Some time and a couple of chapters in a novel later, I was recalled to the desk and told that everything was in order but that, unfortunately, I was not in the new "digital" system. They made copies of everything and filled out a form to be sent to Panama City for processing and said they would telephone or e-mail when everything was ready, in two weeks to a month. Right.

As it happens, my license tag also was expiring in February and, although I get the new tag in Boquete, one first must get a Revisado (inspection of sorts), which one can only get in David. The inspection facility we use is on the road to Boquete, on the edge of David, so I stopped off on the way home to accomplish that task. It's usually a simple and straightforward process (unless the computer system is down); you give them proof of insurance and vehicle registration (all brought up to date months earlier at great expense of time and money), they take a photo of the car, you pay them some nominal amount and you're on your way. Upon entering my info in the computer, however, the receptionist reported that I had an unpaid traffic fine which would have to be satisfied first. Having never gotten a ticket, I was bewildered and frustrated. No matter. I had to return to the Chiriqui Mall to the Transito office to straighten it out. Some twenty minutes later, plus another 20 minutes of standing in line, I was advised that I had incurred a parking violation (location unspecified) in June of 2009 (well before my last revisado in February 2010) and that I owed a $10 fine. Utterly defeated, I handed over $10, got a receipt, returned for my revisado, struggled through road construction back to Boquete, arrived about 4:30, and promptly consumed three gin and tonics. I consoled myself with the thought that at least I had had the foresight not to take Larry along on this reconnaissance mission. One or both of us doubtless would have ended up in jail: him for assaulting a bureaucrat and/or me for assaulting him. I was decidedly not consoled by the realization that, not only would I have to return, but I would have to go through the whole sorry mess with Larry to get his license renewed. And it would have to be soon.

Two days later, on Wednesday, Larry and I set out to accomplish just this. I explained to him what would transpire in Migracion and what would transpire at Sertracen, as our cases were identical, but that I knew exactly what steps to take so it shouldn't take nearly so long. Upon finally arriving at Migracion (road stoppages and parking problems again), I made straight for the Visa room and told them what I needed. The woman there looked at me like I had two heads and pointed back out to the front desk. There, I handed over the appropriate documents, the woman did the computer work, stamped his new passport, and told us we were ready to go. I asked about the form I had filled out for transmittal to Panama City. She knew of no such form. What about payment, I asked? I was advised 
that there was no charge for registering a new passport. I told her I had paid two days previously. The person who helped me then must have been new and didn't know what he was doing, she said, noting that she is the office supervisor. We left, thoroughly confused, and haltingly made our way through traffic to the Chiriqui Mall and Sertracen. There, everything was as it had been for me two days earlier. We both return sometime within the next month, allegedly, to get our new licenses. I'll believe it when I see them.

Larry's license plate isn't due to be renewed until next fall. I showed him on the way out of town where to go to get his Revisado and told him he would be on his own. I hope to hell that he, too, has a mysterious unpaid traffic infraction. I believe in equal opportunity for suffering. It is for that reason that I have burdened all of you with this tale of woe.