Trámites: Elusive Carrots on Strings (Part 2)

Carrot on string

I have finally procured residency.

As you’ll remember from Part 1, we went in circles for quite some time before we figured out what was required for me to get residency as the spouse of a Chilean.

This post is about the second round of blunders, which eventually results in obtaining residency.

First stop…

Departamento de Legalizaciones del Ministerio de Relaciones Exteriores

After a couple of phone calls, we were told that these folks could do all the paperwork to get our marriage certified for us.  So we headed to Agustinas 1320.

The woman we talked to first told us that it wasn’t possible to do what we were trying to do.  But we had already confirmed that this department could do all the paperwork to legalize our marriage in Chile.

She then told us, “Well, yes, you can; but it is a complicated process and will take between two and four months.”

We opted to do it on our own and called up…

Uncle Paul and Phil at the Chilean Consulate in Boston

Paul and Phil Garber are honorary consuls that operate out of their house’s basement in Brighton, Massachusetts.

I called and explained my situation.

“Let me get this straight,” came the snarky Bostonian voice, “you just showed up in Chile without a visa and hoped for the best?”

I paused and muttered some sheepish affirmation.

“That was a good idea.”

He went on to explain that I needed to get the certificate signed by my state and then brought in—in person—for them to sign the certificate.

Vermont’s Secretary of State Continue reading

Trámites: Bureaucracy’s Blue Screen of Death (Part 1)

Don't Enter: Residents OnlyWarning: This post should be used mostly for entertainment.  If you want to know more about the right way to marry a Chilean, I will soon post more information.

I have returned to Santiago and want nothing more than to begin my life as a professional.  Unfortunately, I still don’t have residency.

I know, we all thought it would be much simpler—I am a gringa, after all.  And I married a Chilean.  Isn’t there some privilege that goes along with being a white, American professional that magically ushers me into all things good?

My many privileges aside, it turns out that paperwork is still paperwork.  Bureaucracy remains the same.

Registro Civil sign in Rapa Nui

Translated into Rapanui for your enjoyment

Fortunately, there exists in Spanish a word that very aptly describes what I’m going through: trámites.  (For you newcomers, check out Intro to Trámites.)  And I’m not really surprised that such a succinct way of putting it doesn’t exist in English.  It means you’re in the process of something, the formalities; it means you reel about from one building to the next, waiting in line after line, taking number after number, filling out form after form, and always thinking the end could be just one little slip of paper away.

The process that we’ve been through so far is longer than was necessary because we didn’t have the right information before moving to Chile.

So here is what we have done so far:

1.  I showed up to the country and paid $160 for a three-month tourist visa.

2.  We headed to the Departament of Foreign Affairs and Immigration.  We thought we had all the necessary documentation to be considered married and to apply for residency. Turns out our marriage was not valid in Chile (kind of obvious, I know).

After waiting in a line that extended down six flights of stairs just to take a number, we waited three or four hours in the waiting room for our number to be called.  The woman who assisted us told us not to worry!  We could get married again here in Chile.  Simple.

Window at the Civil Registry

Graffiti at the Civil Registry

3.  We braved our first attempts at getting a marriage appointment.  There was a three-month waiting period.  That wasn’t going to work.  I had a job offer, and my visa expired in three months.

4.  We decided to take a trip with my in-laws to see Edwin’s grandfather in the south of Chile (See also: From Lake to Sea and Tractor Crossing).

We would take advantage of a pituto, which is Chilean for a connection or an “in” with someone, in the registro civil in Valdivia; we’d be married by the time we got back to Santiago.  Unfortunately, the pituto was on vacation.  And the waiting period was too long for us to tie the knot before returning home.

Looks promising...5.  Back in Santiago, we decided that we simply had to make an appointment at the registro civil in Maipú.

After waiting in the wrong line for an hour, as there were virtually no signs or indications of where we needed to be, we were directed upstairs.  There were a couple of people there staring at an empty number dispenser.  (The dispenser has since been removed, as shown in the picture to the right.)  The frosted glass doors were closed and unlabeled.

A woman would periodically pop out of the door to hand us numbers, but then she proceeded to call numbers out of order, asking people, “What are you here for?  Oh, no; you have to wait.”

Broken windows

A little run-down, I guess…

When it was finally our turn, we explained our situation and what we had been told to do.  Her response was, “What?  You can’t get married again.  You’re already married.  Someone will find out, and it will get back to me.  They’ll come asking why I married two people who were already married.”

But just to make sure, she called someone else and put us on the phone with them.

Finally, we had some of the information we needed.

Stay tuned for the thrilling details of the actual process we needed to go through…