Some days just don’t go as planned.
Some things are a little more time consuming than you thought they would be.
Welcome to a day in the life of cross-cultural living, a life that, despite its occasional frustrations and misunderstandings, I wouldn’t trade for anything.
Monday. Time to renew my visa, something I must do every year in order to stay in the country. Should be easy enough – go to the notary, stop at the bookstore to buy an envelope, deposit money at the bank, mail the forms.
Any guesses as to how my morning is gonna go? Go ahead, take a gander.
The morning rain had just come to a pause leaving the clouds hanging low, nestled between the staggered mountain peaks. The air was cool (well, as cool as air gets in the jungle), the opportune time to get the visa renewal process started.
By the time I arrived at the notary, only a couple of blocks away, the humidity had already gotten the best of me. Although the air temperature wasn’t as hot as normal, the rains left the air heavy with moisture provoking the quick evaporation of all the water I had drank that morning.
Seeking refuge in the still cool office of the notary, I waited patiently as the two young women behind the counter attended to other customers. Just as one was finishing up, a gentleman comes in, walks right up to the counter, and starts asking questions. The young woman shifts her gaze in my direction, smiles slightly, and kindly says, “Sir, I’m going to help the lady behind you first.”
He looks at me, as if seeing me for the first time, and obliges, stepping back from the counter. I step forward, thanking her for speaking up for me (most of the time that doesn’t happen!), and hand her my paper to be notarized.
Cross-cultural living moment number one.
Now, a bit of a backstory. The last time I went to the notary, when I was first applying for my visa, I signed the form wrong. You see, I always sign my first name, middle initial, last name. I don’t know why. Too lazy to write my whole middle name, I guess. But, for some reason, in my passport, I decided to sign my whole middle name. Why, I have no idea because honestly (now don’t laugh), I have to think really hard to even remember how to sign my middle name in cursive (haven’t written in cursive since the fifth grade). So, that first time I went to the notary, I signed my name like I always do – first name, middle initial, last name, which of course was wrong, and I had to do it again. The correct, but for me wrong, way.
So, this time I was determined to get it right. I confidently signed the form like I should have signed it the last time I was there – the wrong way that was actually the right way – first name, middle name, and last name. Can you guess where this is going?
“Está mal su firma (Your signatures wrong)”, says the women helping me.
I’m standing there, I’m sure with a look of pure disbelief on my face, thinking, “You’ve got to be kidding. I was positive I did it right this time.”
Apparently, when I signed my visa card, I was eager to do it the right way so I wouldn’t sign important forms (like those at the notary) incorrectly again. So much for that theory.
I now look like the foreigner who doesn’t even know how to sign her own name. Wonderful.
What I thought was right was wrong. Again. The consequence of my mistake, walking to my team leaders house so she could print me another sheet, go back to the notary again, wait in line, and try not to commit the same error for a third time.
Cross-cultural living moment number two.
Although I had only been at the notary office less than half an hour, the sun had already come out and the clouds had disappeared. The moment I stepped outside, the warmth of the sun hit with brunt force. It was going to be a warm walk.
Upon arriving at their house, we discovered that the date for the renewal on my visa was March 25th. Today’s date, March 25th, meaning my visa was supposed to have been renewed by today to avoid paying a fine. Whoops. We call and inquire, asking what we should do. Come to find out, the rules have changed once again and there’s no fine! Dodged a bullet there.
Cross-cultural living moment number three.
New form in hand, still sweating from the walk to their house, I head back to the notary office. The sun is now directly overhead, offering little shade on the sidewalk to escape from it’s furry. I arrive at the notary, hair plastered to my neck, sweat running down my face, my shirt under my purse strap a slightly darker shade of green from, you guessed it, sweat. At least I managed to sign the form correctly this time.
One hour after leaving home, I had my form notarized. And they even gave me a manila envelope to mail the form in, eliminating my stop at the local book store to buy one.
Next step, deposit money. This can be done at a local “agente”, otherwise known as a neighborhood store that offers basic banking services like paying your phone bill and depositing money into an account. A little strange, but incredibly convenient when the nearest bank requires a 20-minute taxi ride plus a wait in the visitors’ line.
So, I walked to the nearest one. Closed. The next one, couldn’t do it. The one on the other side of town, furthest from the post office I needed to go to next, they could do it.
Cross-cultural living moment number four.
I addressed the envelop, put all my papers inside, sealed it up, and headed back across town to the post office. By this time, it was scorching hot. Noon. The warmest part of the day. So much for being the opportune time to go. No shade. Sun blazing. You try to walk slow, but no matter the pace you’re gonna sweat. It was just that kind of day. I arrive at the post office looking like I had just run ten miles during a heat advisory. Hair is soaked. Sweat running down my face and back. I stand up from sitting in a chair, sweat runs down the back of my legs. Unfold my crossed arms, sweat runs from the crook of my elbow. Sweat pooled under the nose pads of my sunglasses. Another lake under the face of my watch. Fingers swelling. Face a nice post-suntanning shade of pink that will unfortunately never turn into a tan. Hot.
Praise the Lord there was no wait to mail the letter. 10 minutes later, it was sent, and I was on my way home. The coolest place I could think to go when I got home (besides inside my fridge) was to lay on the tile floor.
And that’s exactly what I did. For the next half an hour. Moving every couple of minutes to find a fresh, cool spot.
Cross-cultural living moment number five.
Things I learned today:
1) Always check identification document before signing important forms.
2) Cross-cultural living isn’t always easy, but there are patient and gracious people who are willing to help you along the way and bless you in ways you didn’t expect.
3) Life requires patience and the ability to roll your eyes and laugh at your own mistakes.
4) Every day is an opportunity to learn and grow.
5) ALWAYS carry a ponytail with you. It was the wrong day to wear my hair down.