Tag: migration

I’ve spoken till I’m blue in the face at this point on instagram and whatsapp and messenger voicenotes, but I figure why not add to the chronicles with a blog post?

I am the living, breathing example that not everything is rainbows and beautiful instagram shots when you travel. In fact, a great many things can stress you out, leaving you drained and frustrated.

I woke up feeling tired but optimistic. The internet signal was too weak in my last hotel to teach my classes, and surprise: it was raining. I got here at the beginning of “winter” as the locals call rainy season. I knew that I would, but I didn’t think it would end up affecting me this much. I had to reschedule my first class of the day as a result.

With nothing else to do, I decided to check out quickly and use that hour to try to get things sorted out with immigration as fast as possible. To cover myself from the rain, the receptionist at the Tapir hotel gave me a plastic rain poncho. That was an act of kindness I really do appreciate. And with that, I hurried to the office around the corner.

Well, as was to be expected, more complications were waiting for me. Lisbeth, the migration lady, printed out an invoice I was to take to efecty to pay. (Efecty, for the uninitiated, is a Colombian company similar to Western Union) Second “surprise” of the day: I have to pay with cash. Like the rain, this wasn’t really a surprise, I mean, I figured as much, but I still wanted to believe there might be another way. I wanted to be wrong, basically.

What’s a girl to do? Thank Buddha for good friends. One was able and willing to transfer the money I needed to my Colombian account. I just needed to take care of my preply classes first so that I could go take out the money to pay the fine. At my next hotel, which is further out of the way than I expected or would like, the internet was just strong enough for me to have 3 lessons. With the camera off, of course, because it was pouring all day, which meant even starlink’s signal wasn’t strong enough.

Words can’t express the gratitude I feel for my students’ patience with me. I did the best I could, and once I was finished, I headed out searching for an ATM or corresponsal (shop that partners with a bank where you can withdrawal money). Good thing this capital city is small — smaller than Valledupar, more like a town (Fonseca, La Guajira comes to mind). Walking around in the rain would have been worse if I couldn’t have oriented myself as well as I did. Plus, on the bright side, no taxis needed!

Once I got to the efecty, I was hit with my 3rd “surprise” of the day: no service! The people working in the shop with the efecty sign were blunt: there are no efecty’s working in the city. This floored me, but of course I wasn’t going to take their word for it.

Like a game of cat and mouse where the mouse is always a bit faster…or is it like a dog chasing its own tail? Similes aside, I turned around and headed straight for the migration office around the corner. First I asked the guard about what I had heard about efecty, and he immediately pointed me to Lisbeth.

When I told her what had happened, her face froze. According to her, if they said that efecty was down in the city, then there were no other options. She made it clear as day to me that the only way I could pay my fine was at an efecty — there was no longer a bank with a government connection. I could not — still cannot — believe what I was hearing. I thought about those people that she had told me were also being fined in December. Apparently, there were more of us than usual. I tried to stay calm and asked her, “Do you have at least a list of efecty locations that I can check instead of going door to door trying to find one?” To be clear, I had not had much success looking on google maps.

Ultimately, she gave me this list, and the place that she recommended the most was not even listed on google maps. She apologized for everything, telling me she was embarrassed but unable to change the system. I get it. It has to suck just as much for her, being the bearer of bad news. I also apologized for my own frustration; it’s just nothing had prepared me for such a ridiculous conundrum. She claimed that most likely it was the rain that had caused the system to crash, and that it could be fine the next day.

When I walked outside, I noticed that just next door there was an efecty sign on the building. Huh? One right next door and she didn’t even mention it? As soon as I walked in, I also saw the sign saying there was no efecty service for the moment. I decided to ask the teller if she knew where I could find a working efecty.

The 4th (well 5th if we consider only being able to pay a government fine at an efecty that apparently isn’t available a “surprise”) gut-punch of a surprise I did not see coming. All efecty’s had been down, according to the lady, and that’s why the people at the first one had said what they did. And not only that, efecty had been unavailable for over a month. I felt stupified. How did the immigration officer not know in such a small town where she had had to charge so many people that the only form of payment was not available — for over a month?! How?!

The light at the end of the tunnel was that there was one “rumored” to work, the same one the officer had recommended to me saying that no one had any trouble using as far as she knew — but why not just tell me about it in the first place instead of sending me on a wild goose chase? We may never know.

So, I walked the 7 odd blocks to get to this place, my blisters growing by the moment, only to find it closed for the day. There was also not a single efecty sign on the building. Should I be worried?

Well, with my luck, I am more than a bit worried. I need to get out of this town. I’ve even started a gofundme because as I said in the migration office, all of this mess is costing me by the day just to stay and drag things out when all I want to do is pay the government what I owe it. The worst thing is I can’t even leave the town unless I want to be considered culpable and deported — which is to say, not allowed back into the country without a visa ever again.

A wise man on my instagram feed says that for something to be beautiful or strong, it had to be “burnt and battered and bent into shape.” Maybe that’s what I’m going through? Maybe I’m just an idiot? Maybe, but I hope this information prepares you in case you are ever unsure about your immigration status — don’t trust officers, do the math and be proactive. But also I guess the message is, don’t give up, because you never know when the answer might be waiting behind the next obstacle.

So, with that, I bid you all adieu and goodnight. I am exhausted, and all I can hope is that tomorrow will be a little bit less awful than today.

You guys can find my gofundme here: https://gofund.me/f4dabab1

Every little bit helps ❤