Today was the day I was going to ease myself into my Mexico move.
I have decided to apply for an FM3 visa to live in Mexico. It is effectively a resident visa that will allow me to stay in Mexico for a year, and is renewable for a total of five years. The visa is designed for retirees (among others) who intend to stay in Mexico longer than the six months allowed by a tourist card (FMT).
There are two primary ways to obtain an FM3: enter Mexico on an FMT and convert it to an FM3 in Mexico -- or get an FM3 at a Mexican consulate before entering Mexico.
I have heard enough tales about the frustrations of getting or renewing an FM3 in Mexico that I decided to at least initiate the process at a consulate -- because the bureaucracy would certainly be easier to deal with in the States -- that was my presumption.
The Mexican consulate in Portland has a helpful web site in Spanish -- and an even more helpful bilingual telephone recording. From the recording I learned that the consulate provides FM3 services on limited weekdays from 12 non to 1:30 PM.
On Monday, I started my day leisurely and arrived at the consulate. There was no missing the place. In addition to the national symbols of the seal and flag of Mexico, a large number of Mexican nationals were milling around the entrance.
I soon found out why so many people were outside. What I took for the lobby was packed with people holding piles of papers. And there was absolutely no order to the mass of people.
I have decided to apply for an FM3 visa to live in Mexico. It is effectively a resident visa that will allow me to stay in Mexico for a year, and is renewable for a total of five years. The visa is designed for retirees (among others) who intend to stay in Mexico longer than the six months allowed by a tourist card (FMT).
There are two primary ways to obtain an FM3: enter Mexico on an FMT and convert it to an FM3 in Mexico -- or get an FM3 at a Mexican consulate before entering Mexico.
I have heard enough tales about the frustrations of getting or renewing an FM3 in Mexico that I decided to at least initiate the process at a consulate -- because the bureaucracy would certainly be easier to deal with in the States -- that was my presumption.
The Mexican consulate in Portland has a helpful web site in Spanish -- and an even more helpful bilingual telephone recording. From the recording I learned that the consulate provides FM3 services on limited weekdays from 12 non to 1:30 PM.
On Monday, I started my day leisurely and arrived at the consulate. There was no missing the place. In addition to the national symbols of the seal and flag of Mexico, a large number of Mexican nationals were milling around the entrance.
I soon found out why so many people were outside. What I took for the lobby was packed with people holding piles of papers. And there was absolutely no order to the mass of people.
I did a quick room scan and found a counter with three signs: "Información," "Uno," and "Dos." Even with my limited Spanish, I knew what the signs meant, but I had no idea what I was supposed to do.
I asked several people in the lobby where I should start. They pointed to the "Información" sign (that made sense) and then pointed to a queue that snaked into another waiting room.
Waiting in the queue would be futile. The "Información" counter was the closet to the door. Each new arrival simply squeezed into the line right there. And the people who made it to the front of the line continued to stand there after being helped.
Because I had arrived at noon, I thought I had hit a busy period. So, I wandered off to lunch.
Two blocks from the consulate, I had my choice of Lebanese, Indian, Persian, or Japenese. (At moments like this, I wish I worked in Portland.) I chose the Lebanese -- and had a great meal. (When the bill came, I realized why I enjoy living in Salem, instead of Portland).
Refreshed, I went back to the consulate around 1:00 PM. The crowds were worse. Some of the people who were blocking up the queue on my initial visit were still blocking it.
Like William Wallace, I conducted a tactical withdrawal knowing I could fight another day.
On the drive home, I ran it all through my head. How could the process have beat me down? I was merely seeking information to apply for the visa. The fact that I could not even get near the information counter -- nor figure out a way to get there -- was the problem.
I have decided to give it another try later in the week. Maybe Mondays are simply busy days.
Or I could wait until I get to Mexico. I have my passport (and copies), my passport photos, my application, and my monthly bank statements (for a full year -- and copies). According to the web site, that should be all I need.
I have learned, though, that I am certainly not ready to deal with the vagaries of Mexican bureaucracy. I still have no idea what the "uno" and "dos" counters were supposed to be. Maybe I will find out later this week. (I can hear several of you now: "What makes you think they stand for anything at all?")
I asked several people in the lobby where I should start. They pointed to the "Información" sign (that made sense) and then pointed to a queue that snaked into another waiting room.
Waiting in the queue would be futile. The "Información" counter was the closet to the door. Each new arrival simply squeezed into the line right there. And the people who made it to the front of the line continued to stand there after being helped.
Because I had arrived at noon, I thought I had hit a busy period. So, I wandered off to lunch.
Two blocks from the consulate, I had my choice of Lebanese, Indian, Persian, or Japenese. (At moments like this, I wish I worked in Portland.) I chose the Lebanese -- and had a great meal. (When the bill came, I realized why I enjoy living in Salem, instead of Portland).
Refreshed, I went back to the consulate around 1:00 PM. The crowds were worse. Some of the people who were blocking up the queue on my initial visit were still blocking it.
Like William Wallace, I conducted a tactical withdrawal knowing I could fight another day.
On the drive home, I ran it all through my head. How could the process have beat me down? I was merely seeking information to apply for the visa. The fact that I could not even get near the information counter -- nor figure out a way to get there -- was the problem.
I have decided to give it another try later in the week. Maybe Mondays are simply busy days.
Or I could wait until I get to Mexico. I have my passport (and copies), my passport photos, my application, and my monthly bank statements (for a full year -- and copies). According to the web site, that should be all I need.
I have learned, though, that I am certainly not ready to deal with the vagaries of Mexican bureaucracy. I still have no idea what the "uno" and "dos" counters were supposed to be. Maybe I will find out later this week. (I can hear several of you now: "What makes you think they stand for anything at all?")
