Impressed

So, this has long been the venue of bitching and complaining about the frustrations that I sometimes face living in a new culture. Today, that is going to change. I just had one of the most pleasant experiences in my life. And it just happened to be at a governmental entity that up until two days ago, was my worst nightmare. I have to share.

So my visa expired on Friday. In the rush of getting together paperwork to ask for my renewal, I mentally prepared myself for sitting in long lines, explaining my visa situation to at least 50 different people who would consequently send me down the line of the endless number of little windows where immigration workers decide your fate or just continue to pass you along like some sick game of immigration muscial chairs. I was prepared to treat everyone really nice and NOT get mad so that some offended immigration worker wouldn't just "lose" my file. I was prepared to pay for these stupid timbres ("official stamps") that you have to put on any kind of paper for the government to accept that it actually is a piece of paper, and I was ready to pay for a new birth certificate since they are only valid for three months, as if standing in front of them living, breathing, and exisiting wasn't enough proof that at some point in my life (the beginning) I WAS actually born. I was then prepared to pay for said stamps to be put on said birth certificate (so a process of getting a $2 document turns into a $7 document, only received after going to three different government buildings, located on opposite ends of the city, so count taxi fare, and a birth certificate turns into a $15 process).

But, Chris, I thought you said you weren't going to bitch.

Well, I go to immigration. I got there at about 12:15 and went to the first window that was available. After waiting a whole 2 seconds, and being actually greeted by the worker ("Hello, how can I help you?" is not yet a part of the Panamanian government worker's linguistic disposition) I was directed to another window. Accepting the inevitable, I made my way to the next little window, defeated by what I thought would be the start of another immigration down spirial worthy of gaining, for myself, automatic deportation.

But alas. Assumeth thy not! I was attended at the second window (and even with a smile, another rarity here among business people) and given the receipt to pay for my new carnét (ID Card). I didn't even have to explain my situation or fight and say that I had already paid that fee or filed that form. The lady simply looked up my case in the computer (another first for immigration, there was no digging through thousands of paper files trying to find mine) and knew exactly what I needed. When I got my receipt I went to the cashier to pay: and like mercy straight from heaven, there was no line. The lady attended me (this time not so good, but at least she didn't try to charge me extra) and I paid, and went on my way. I was immieaditly whisked away to a new office to get my picture taken, (and actually had a decent conversation with the lady that took me picture: before that, I though immigration workers weren't capable of conversation), and two minutes later, my newly laminated carnét was handed to me and I was kindly shown where the building's newly constructed exit was.

I renewed my carnét in a total of 15 minutes. This is a process that three months I took a whole half day off of work to complete.

And while you might say, well you got lucky, I have to say that the addition of technology was a lie saver. The computer system cut down on the time that I had to wait in line, so I was in a better mood when I got to the window. I wasn't angry, so the government worker wasn't defensive. They were actually friendly. And while getting a new ID Card may seem like something trivial, it is often those small trivial moments that can bring us the most joy or threating to ruin our entire day.

Walking out of immigration, holding my shiny new carnét, and basking in the fact that I was now able to travel this weekend (story coming in the next blog) without the thought of being pulled over and suddenly deported, and realizing that I still had 30 minutes of my lunch break left, I realized it was the first time in my two years here I walked away from that building and I wasn't inclined to strangle somebody. What a difference! I am very impressed.