Immigration

Did I tell you I have to reapply to the Immigration AUTHORITIES every two months to stay here? That's another experience. I keep getting there after my Visa has expired, but in all honesty, last week I wasn't in shape to trust sitting around for hours without a ready comfort room, if you get the drift! So I resigned myself to the fact that it would cost more yet again. I was only about three weeks late the last time! I guess it's really only about $60 a month all total for the extensions. But Monday was Bataan day, closed. Since I was late, what the heck?

What is Bataan day? Thanks to the web: "On April 9, 1942, 12,000 American soldiers surrendered to the Japanese at the tip of the Bataan Peninsula, which juts into Manila Bay in the Philippines. For nearly five months, the troops had fought ferociously against overwhelming odds until they ran out of food, medical supplies and ammunition. As prisoners of war (POWs), they and thousands of Filipinos were taken to a camp run by the Japanese army. This grueling series of marches are now known as the Bataan Death March." For me, holidays mean no traffic! Malls are open, of course!

Tuesday I had an appointment to see my new heart doctor, so I finally got to Immigration by noon, just when they take their lunch break, of course,. Back at 1 p.m. I found out I couldn't enter Immigration wearing shorts and sandals! "WHAT?!! You mean I just spent almost P200 for a taxi from Quezon City to here and I can't get in the building?" "Sorry." Well when you're facing someone who is carrying a rifle, you don't argue, do you?

But then someone shoved a paper in front of me to fill out, and someone else pointed over to a tree where a couple people were renting pants! LOL. So for P50 I rented a pair of polyester dark blue pants with elastic for waste and ankles, which I slipped over my bermuda shorts. What a crazy world! I still laugh at the absurdity of the whole situation. Then, because I was a few days late, there was a fine. So when I went back at five o'clock to pick up my stamped and approved passport, the guy says, "oh, sorry, you didn't pay the fine, you have to go over to window 28." So I did, and there I stood in line with five minutes to go before he closed up his window, and behind these other people who obviously do this for a living for others (packs of visas in hand as well as thousands of pesos in wads). You guessed it, he closed shop. Oh, come on! Back to the other window, obviously looking very weary and feeling like s....t (after all I was still kinda sick), someone finally appeared to help. More "you have to go to window..." "But I was just there and he said to come back here!" So back I go, someone finally came, but he wanted P1000! The last time I paid only P500 so I complained! I'm finally learning to just not put up with that crap!
"Well, if you don't need a receipt then it'll cost you P500." "Fine with me!"

I walked out, greatly relieved, to find the owner of the pants waiting patiently for me. I wonder how much money she's made off that pair of quickly sown together material? And how did she know when I'd appear?

I did have a nice conversation, while waiting in line, with an Irish lad who was there volunteering in an orphanage. We agreed on how inefficient the system is here. But he went back home to get pants! No one told him he could rent them! I guess my sandals were ok. What a hoot!