Immigration Hijinks

In an attempt to save money, I booked all of my travel in round trip segments, thinking myself pretty sly and that I would get into Buenos Aires in time to have a little asado. I planned my trip to catch my flight back to the states from BA by coordinating a round trip, BA—Lima—BA. I would get into BA with about 5 hours to spare plenty of time to go into town, eat and get back to the airport.

It all seemed to be going swimmingly and then the radicals in Peru decided to put on a transportation strike but that just meant that I had to go to Lima a few days extra to be there in time to take my flight to BA. The strikes did not affect Lima. They are still going on, by the way.

I did need to be back by Saturday to give my High Council talk in Albuquerque. Not a problem the way things looked. I froze in Lima because of the humid cold about like San Francisco in February. I just bundled up and wore my long johns the whole time I was there.

On Friday morning, the 13th, when I had scheduled the beginning of my odyssey, I went to the airport, with plenty of time to catch my flight. I don’t place any stock in bad or good luck stuff and never think about it, but perhaps my thoughts have changed.

I had no problem with the airline, LAN and got my boarding pass. Then I paid my airport tax and wandered up to the immigration/security area. Full of confidence, because I had all of my papers in order, I made my way in and stood in line. I looked around and the place was practically empty and then I got to the counter. Now, nothing says officious bureaucratic nonsense like Peruvian Immigrations. The agent said, "You have not paid your foreign residence tax.”

Now there is a lengthy explanation to make about this. Peru has no work visa only a residence visa that says I am a Peruvian resident who can work (No matter that I don’t live there, it works that way) and every year we have to pay about $400US to keep that visa up. We also have to pay my work taxes in Peru and show documentation that I am up to date on that payment every time I leave Peru in order to get out.

The payment of airport taxes in Peru has to do with the inherent schizophrenic lack of trust that the government has developed thanks to years of internal corruption and everyone’s attitude about it. The government doesn’t trust the airlines to collect the taxes and pass them up the line like they do in the states so they make you stand in another line to get a little sticker that two people check on your way through security to make sure that you paid the tax to get the little sticker. Back to my problem, this foreigner’s visa tax is one that costs $20US and is due before the end of March but no one had mentioned it to me including our lawyers who pay the taxes for us.

The immigration personnel including the boss insisted that I could not leave. They said it was impossible that I didn’t know. I responded that it was impossible that no one ever said a thing until then, this was my third time to leave since March. In short, they were your basic knot heads and despite my talking like a Peruvian uncle, I could not change their attitude. They told me that I would have to pay the tax before I could leave and that the bank where I would have to pay it would not open for three more hours, meaning that I would miss the flight. I gathered my things and left. I withdrew myself from the flight and found the American agents to get them to re-schedule me which they kindly did. Then I went back to my hotel who had not given away my room! Then I napped until the bank opened. This is one of those public banks and I called the lawyer first. She averted me to the fact that there would likely be a fine of $40US because of late payment. Then she said, paying the bank is only half way, you have to go to immigration to get the little sticker that goes on the back of the visa… More little stickers!

The Spanish word for this is, “Engorroso,”…I love that word because it just is such an onomatopoeia, like the big tolling bells and the little tinkling ones in the Poe poem. You can put so much feeling into saying, “¡Puchaaaa! ¡Ayyyy, queee Engorrrrossso!” and it feels just as good as swearing and you didn’t have to say anything bad.

In the end, it took all day and then I called the airline to verify that I could get out and they told me that for changing the route, it was going to cost me $1,900US! I asked him if it made sense to him that a $20 tax should result in a change fee that was more than the original round trip ticket… and he responded, “Yes sir, it makes perfect sense to me. I do these kinds of things all day long…” He kind of reminded me of John Candy in Planes Trains and Automobiles, "Yes officer, I really do..." when he gets pulled over in the burned out car so I let it ride. Yet another innocent soul who got in my face but I chose to wait and talk to a real person in the airport… I had some concern but in the end the agent at the counter had much more on the ball than the chap on the phone and I didn't pay the change fee. I don’t know how to explain this but when male telephone agents with the airlines help you…well, they don’t really help you... It is a kind of reverse sexism I guess but the women always seem to know what they are doing, inspire confidence etc. and the menrarely do.

Anyway, my new little sticker worked and I managed to escape the grasping clutches of the little Latino pencil pushers with their petty adherence to bureaucratic nonsense. I managed to get home to the lovely dry heat of New Mexico and the tastes of green chili and the comforts of my home…