Thursday, Jan 10 – Day 22
So, it’s time to get that tourist visa for Brazil. Everyone I’ve talked to says it’s a bitch, and it can take up to 3 weeks. Americans weren’t required to have a visa to enter Brazil until after the Sept. 11 attacks. After that, the US imposed a visa requirement on the Brazilians, so the Brazilians now require us to have a visa to enter their country. They call this recipricocity.
Before I Ieft California, I called the Brazilian Consulate in LA. They said that I needed to come to their office in person, bring my passport, a separate 2x2 color passport photo, and my airplane tickets to show evidence of my transportation into and out of their country. Then, they told me, I’d have to come back to their office in 10 days to pick the visa up in person. They don’t mail them.
Well, at this point, I wasn’t even sure how long I wanted to stay in Brazil, let alone what dates. I just knew that I wanted to go to Rio for Carnaval, and play it by ear after that. And I certainly couldn’t wait for 10 business days to for them to process the visa. I knew I’d be in Buenos Aires for about a month, and they said that I could apply for the visa at the Brazilian consulate there. Cool.
While in Houston, I settled up on some of my plans. I bought a one-way plane ticket to Rio and paid for a week at the Intercontinental Hotel in Rio, including a few days before and after Carnival. Knowing that I’d need to show how I was leaving Brazil, my travel agent made a reservation for a flight from Rio back to Houston, printed the itinerary, then he cancelled the reservation. I sure hope this works!
The other day, I looked at the BA consulate’s web page to get the address and review the process. They only take applications from 10:00 am until 1:00 pm, Monday through Friday, and the process can take up to 15 business days. However, in addition to all the other stuff that I knew about from talking to the consulate in LA, this location requires a copy of my credit card, AND a copy of my bank statements for the last three months! Are you kidding me?
I talked to a couple of other guys at my school, and they said “yes, you need the bank statements”. They also said that they especially like to screw with the Americans, and that several of their friends (not just US citizens) had to go back 3 or 4 times. Each time they thought they were finished, the consulate would ask for more stuff. They said that nobody gets through on the first try. Great.
I have my laptop, so I downloaded my bank statements, but I don’t have access to a printer. So, I e-mailed them to an address that I can access from a locutorio (one of the local internet and telephone access shops). I go there to print them, but the only way to do this is to first download them onto the hard-drive of the computer at the shop. I guess I can erase the files after I print them, but I can’t say that I’m real comfortable having the electronic remnants of my banks statements floating around on the C:\ drive of a 10 year old computer that’s available to any one of the city’s 14 million inhabitants. So I go and buy a little thumb-drive and download the statements from my computer to that. I take the thumb-rive to the locutorio and print the statements off the thumb-drive for 12 pesos. It’s probably not any safer, but I feel a little better.
So I’m ready for the Brazilian consulate. I leave class early, at about 12:00, and get the consulate at 12:30. Up to the 5th floor and through the metal detector, but the security guard won’t let me through without turning off my cell phone. I tell him that I don’t have one on me, but since he doesn’t believe me, he searches my bag. Not a good start. I fill out the visa form on a computer kiosk, and then wait in line. All around me are small groups of people from a bunch of different countries quietly whispering about the problems they are having. Sure enough, most have been here 3 or 4 times. As I begin talking to these people, I realize that they are all morons. Most are twenty-something knuckleheads that just don’t believe that rules apply to them. One guy doesn’t have a passport – hello! Another doesn’t have a photo. Few of these people probably even have a bank account, let alone a bank statement. I appear to be the only one that actually showed up with all the stuff the consulate was asking for.
The guy in front of me is from India, and has been there before. They call his name, and he goes over to another line. When I finally get my turn at bat, the lady looks at my bank statement first, and asks me to point out the address, the statement date, and the balance. BofA provides a statement that shows the combined balance of all your accounts, so that’s the number I point to. She looks up at me and says “is that in American dollars?” I give a quick nod; she stamps my application and says “your visa will be ready on Monday”. She keeps my passport and the other stuff, but I’m not quite finished yet. She gives me a piece of paper and says that I have to take this to a bank that’s three blocks away, and pay the $431.25 peso fee. And, I have to do it today. That’s OK, I knew about this. As I walked away, the people around me were in awe. I actually thought that some were going to start clapping for me.
It’s 2:00, and as I leave, the guy that was originally in front of me is pleading with the security guard, who won’t let him back in the room. They called him out of line because they rejected his photo. He went and had another one made, but it’s now past 1:00 - the office is closed. He’ll have to come back tomorrow. At the elevator, I’m cracking up at this whole experience. When the door opens, a guy inside actually puts his hands up to stop me from getting on. The seven other people in the elevator all point to a sign that says “Limit 8 Passengers”. Are you kidding me? This happens 3 more times before I can get on, and once I do get on, we refuse others twice on the way down. Weird.
At Itau, the Brazilian bank, I’m feeling pretty good. There’s a separate window for people doing business with the consulate. I give the guy my receipt and $150.00 US (a little more than the peso equivalent of the fee). He looks at me and says that the fee can only be paid in pesos. OK, I say, how about we convert the dollars to pesos – this is a bank, right? He smiles and says that to convert currency at the bank, he needs to see my passport, which he knows is at the consulate. I have cash dollars and want to convert them to cash Pesos, but need a passport to do this? Nice.
He refers me to a Cambio Touristo across the street, which is apparently a little more lenient on the passport requirement when exchanging cash for cash. I’ll bet the exchange rate is pretty good too. When I walk in, there are 5 windows, but only one of them is attended. The line is short, but I notice there are a bunch of people just sitting around. I’m sure that I look confused. Turns out, you need to pull a number, like being at the meat counter of the supermarket or a deli. I’m number 89. Now serving - number 56.
