Living in a third world country has it's advantages (well, it is cheap ! ) and disadvantages ( well, like living in a third world country). When my management company fails to pay the water bill, or the gas bill, or their electric (which controls the pump for water) all I can do is scream and yell. When there is a problem with my own utilities, I also scream and yell, but think I have more control ( I don't).
A new tenant moved into our building. I caught up with his Realtor and told him that he was doing his client no favor, for all of us were leaving. He claimed to have no knowledge of the problems with this building and of course his client moved in anyway. The first thing he did was to install a "Dish Network". For some unexplained reason, it eliminated all my English speaking channels. I either had a black screen or a notice from Dish to select "one or two". Since I did not have the Dish equipment, I could do nothing. There was also an "800" number to call. I did, but even though I was speaking with an American, they had a hard time understanding for I was not a "Dish" customer. They claim they had never heard of such a thing (just because something has never happened before, doesn't mean it won't happen to me). Finally they came to the conclusion that I would have to have the new tenant call under his contract for a repair man.
Even though he is next door (one floor above) His building has a separate entrance. I had no way to reach him other than standing in front of his door to wait for him to emerge. In the meanwhile I decided to call my own cable net work. Surprisingly, they offer a choice of "Spanish" or English". First they said, "We are having a problem, but we are working on it" This is a standard line just to put you off. I said, "No YOU are not having a problem, I am having a problem" After going through three people trying my best to understand their version of English, they agreed to send someone out. When??? Well, maybe this afternoon, maybe tomorrow. You will call? I asked. Yes, Yes she said. Miraculously the following day I had all my channels.
Except during an electric storm (which happens most nights now) when the channels just disappear. As usual, I will never know why.
My electric bill arrives every two months. I have made a mental note of when it is due for they only give you ten days to pay it. As I explained earlier, they do not use the post office, but send an employee to every household and hand deliver the bill. In my case this means it is slipped under the front door downstairs (we have no mail box). But they do not even bother to put it into an envelope. It is just a small green piece of paper. I never got my bill. Who knows, someone could have stepped on it during a rain storm and it would look like a piece of trash. After it was more than a week late, I knew I had to do something,.
I went to the office where I pay the bills and used the code from my previous bill. Sure enough, my name came up and it said I owed $3,262 pesos ( about $260.00) This would be a lot of money for two months, but it covered the month that I was gone, so it was really only a one month bill. I knew something was wrong and besides I did not have that much cash on me. For those of you who have followed my blog, you will know that this is not my first fight with the electric company. From my previous experience, I decided to do some investigation myself; a call to complain would do no good. I noticed that my meter was spinning out of control, while the other meters were barely moving. I went back to my apartment and unplugged everything. Sure enough it was still spinning out of control. It made me think that there may be another reason no one will connect to the underground wires that the City spent millions installing. If the wires were underground it would be almost impossible to steal someone's electricity.
Because of my previous calls to the electric company, there was no way I would have made myself understood, so I had Jose call. Finally they agreed to send someone out, but they had no idea when.
They never showed up at all. I decided to have Jose call again on Monday and this time get the number of the complaint order and with that I would go to the main office. I was afraid it would be cut off for lack of payment. Again Jose offered to break it with a rock.
The first girl spoke not a word of English and she didn't know anyone who did. Some how I got across that I had a huge electric bill that I would only pay, if I could speak to someone in English. They found another girl in the back. Even when they speak some English, it is very hard to understand. Anyway I explained that something was wrong with my meter. OH NO! she exclaimed, it is not the meter, it is the wiring in your building. I would never admit it to her, but considering that I live in the "Little House of Horrors" this was a possibility. I insisted someone come out and look at it. Reluctantly she gave me a number to call to set up an appointment. I thought I had won a round. I was wrong. Jose called and they said, they do not make appointments and would send someone out within 5 days, but they would call first. They did not call, whether they ever showed up or not I will never know.
The situation seemed hopeless until one day when I was talking to one of the guys who hangs out at my morning coffee shop. He gave me the telephone number of an electrician who would fix my problem. I could not see how, but set up an appointment and to my amazement he showed up on time. I did find out something I did not know. There is an air conditioning control panel on the wall. I ignore it other than to make sure it is turned on when I need air (it goes off during every electric storm). I thought that as long as I did not have one of my three units on that the air was off. It is not. As long as that little light is on the control box, the compressor is still working on the roof. That might explain the high electric bill.
His solution was to "hot wire" my meter. Really!! He proceed to dismantle my meter. I told him that the manager would be arriving in 30 minutes and to hurry up. He finished just as her little red car pulled up. He explained to her that he was just checking it for me. He tells me that I will now never have a bill of more than 200 to 300 pesos (maybe $20.00) but that I should never call the electric company again. I must always pay my bill on time and to be sure to call him before I move so that he can remove his wiring. HEY! Don't look at me like that. This is Mexico, it is the way things are done here. You gotta love a country where for a few hundred pesos you can fix almost anything.
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Tuesday, July 24, 2012
Thursday, July 12, 2012
NEVER BE LATE !!
Anyone who has ever spent any time at all in Mexico, must think that is a pretty stupid statement. Everyone is always late in Mexico (sometimes by hours, sometimes by days) I really don't think they even bother to teach kids how to tell time in school. Only Gringos wear a watch. No, what I am talking about is late for an official document. My FM3 card expired! (my permanent residency card)
I knew before I left for Japan that I had less than two weeks to renew it. But when I got back I was faced with that mountain of furniture that needed to be unpacked and placed. The apartment was filthy. To complicate matters my air conditioner did not work. It took me four days to get it repaired (at my expense) and then the water was off for two days. It just slipped my mind. A friend of mine reminded me the day after it had expired.
First I got the four pass port photos at Guadalaja Pharmacy that night, then got up early the following morning. So far, it has only rained at night, but this morning God decided to make an exception (just for me). My closest bus stop is four blocks away. Now I don't mind getting a little wet walking in the rain, but wading across rivers of mud is really unpleasant.
When I got to the former immigration office, I found it had moved. Fortunately it was now located in a very nice new large office just around the corner. The building has no signs of any kind indicating a governmental office or Immigration. No, on the door a hand painted sign read "Push" That is all. Because of the rain, I had no wait at all for the first girl (I remembered her from the last time) After scolding me about being late, she told me I would owe an additional fine (they love fines here) and I would have to write a letter explaining why I was late in renewing it (apparently just being stupid was not enough). She also handed me the application form which was not only in Spanish, but had to be filled out in Spanish. I don't know if it was the pained look on my face, or just my old age, but she took pity on me. She filled out the form and wrote the letter. But we are not done.
She also told me that I now needed to download a form from my computer and I needed some photos of my right profile as well (I guess so it will more resemble a mug shot) plus 3 months of bank statements and my electric bill. I told her I would be back the following day, but for some reason she did not like that idea. She said something about "10 days" but I do not know if that is how long the permit takes, or how long I wait before returning. The bus ride back was another experience. Again the bus stop was about four blocks away and now it is really pouring rain. When the bus screeched to a stop in front of me, it splashed muddy water up to my knees. When I got on I noticed that everyone was seated on one side of the bus. Then I noticed all the wet seats on the other side. The roof leaked (these buses would not pass inspection in Afghanistan).
Now to the other form that must be downloaded from the internet. No, it is not available anywhere else, she told me. I don't know how many of you have tried to navigate any governmental web site, but try it in Spanish. Well, armed with my Spanish dictionary I began. There were some areas that even with the dictionary I had no clue what they wanted, so I just left them blank and then printed out the form (how one exists here without a computer and printer, I do not know). A few days later (with my profile photos) I went back to the office. The same girl told me that I had printed out the wrong form. She pointed to something on the form about "Adobe Reader". I figured that I would have to download it, and then print out the form. But back at home, I discovered that my printer already had the latest version of Adobe Reader, so I tried it again. The same form came up. I printed it out and headed back to immigration. Again she refused the form and suggested I go to an internet shop down the street (a 15 minute walk).
There the nice man set me up at a computer and brought up the correct web site, but I got the same page. He insisted it would be all right and asked me to fill out the form (for the third time) Well, of course my reading glasses were left next to my computer at home. I did the best I could and the nice man showed me that at the bottom of the page there are two little icons. One said "limpiar" ( knew that meant clean or erase) the other said, "guardar" I had ignored it, but all he had to do was to click there and up pops the correct form.
I went back again to the girl at the desk and presented her with the correct form. She then went through all my documents and discovered that I only had 3 passport photos from the front side. I gave her my pained expression again and explained that I had 4 photos, but in shuffling back and forth three times, I must have lost one. She said that the 3 would do (why, if 3 would do, did they ask for 4?) Then she gave me a new number. I had been number 4 in the morning, now I was number 33 with 6 people ahead of me.
Finally my number came up and I handed him all my stuff. He carefully went over every line of every page. He was particularly fascinated with my bank statement, carefully reading every debit charge (I have no idea why). Then he discovered that while filling out the last form without my glasses, I had missed the expiration date on my passport by one day. He said I would need a new form! The pained expression on my face was real this time. I told him that I had already filled out the form three times and made three trips there. He did something on the computer and left the room. A few minutes later he came out with the form correctly printed with the right date. If they had the form there all along, then WHY...??? Oh well, it is Mexico. He told me to come back on Monday at 11:00 and they would have printed out an explanation of why I was late. I would have to sign that, take it to a bank (another 15 minute walk) and get a receipt for paying the fine. Then I would have to wait 10 days, download another form off the computer and come back and pay the real fee.
That morning it rained (the first morning since the last time I went to immigration). By the time I left the rain had stopped. I explained that I had an appointment at 11:00, but NO ! I had to sign in and get a number. When I was called up, I got the same man I had last week. He looked over the paper he had given me on Friday, pulled out my file and had me sign a paper that I had already signed. Then he handed me back the same paper I gave him and told me to wait 10 days and then go into the computer and download another document and then I could come in and pay the fine. I told him that he said I could pay the fine today. NO! You must wait 10 days, pay the fine, then wait another 10 days to pick up the card.
When I went back, I got a different girl that did give me the paper work for my fine. It was 1,558 pesos (more than the permit costs), but I could not pay the fine for two more days. "NO" she said, you cannot pay the fine until Thursday and the receipt (in duplicate) must be presented to the office on the same day. I play bridge on Thursday, so I was at the bank when it opened. I got the receipt duplicated at the internet office I visited before and when to Immigration. I had to take a number and wait. The same lady took the paper work and disappeared behind the wall again. Maybe they have coffee breaks there, but they are always disappearing behind that wall. She reappeared and told me to come back in a week (but not before) At that time I would be given the bill for the permit, go back to the bank to get a receipt, duplicate it and return to the office and the FM3 card would be issued.
I am going to assume that everything will go smoothly and this sage will be over (always the optimist!). Besides I am tired of writing about it so I am going to post this anyway. I have to get back to my problems with the cable company, the electric company, and finding a new apartment. There is always something to occupy my old mind.
I know what you are thinking "Why would anyone want to live in Mexico" Well, there are compensations (like the 48 hours of no booze) and the people are basically really nice. Dealing with anything to do with a governmental agency is very, very difficult. But, as I have said before, these "little problems" keeps my mind active (this is important at my age). My life here is never dull, sometimes very frustrating, but never boring.
********************************************
I knew before I left for Japan that I had less than two weeks to renew it. But when I got back I was faced with that mountain of furniture that needed to be unpacked and placed. The apartment was filthy. To complicate matters my air conditioner did not work. It took me four days to get it repaired (at my expense) and then the water was off for two days. It just slipped my mind. A friend of mine reminded me the day after it had expired.
First I got the four pass port photos at Guadalaja Pharmacy that night, then got up early the following morning. So far, it has only rained at night, but this morning God decided to make an exception (just for me). My closest bus stop is four blocks away. Now I don't mind getting a little wet walking in the rain, but wading across rivers of mud is really unpleasant.
When I got to the former immigration office, I found it had moved. Fortunately it was now located in a very nice new large office just around the corner. The building has no signs of any kind indicating a governmental office or Immigration. No, on the door a hand painted sign read "Push" That is all. Because of the rain, I had no wait at all for the first girl (I remembered her from the last time) After scolding me about being late, she told me I would owe an additional fine (they love fines here) and I would have to write a letter explaining why I was late in renewing it (apparently just being stupid was not enough). She also handed me the application form which was not only in Spanish, but had to be filled out in Spanish. I don't know if it was the pained look on my face, or just my old age, but she took pity on me. She filled out the form and wrote the letter. But we are not done.
She also told me that I now needed to download a form from my computer and I needed some photos of my right profile as well (I guess so it will more resemble a mug shot) plus 3 months of bank statements and my electric bill. I told her I would be back the following day, but for some reason she did not like that idea. She said something about "10 days" but I do not know if that is how long the permit takes, or how long I wait before returning. The bus ride back was another experience. Again the bus stop was about four blocks away and now it is really pouring rain. When the bus screeched to a stop in front of me, it splashed muddy water up to my knees. When I got on I noticed that everyone was seated on one side of the bus. Then I noticed all the wet seats on the other side. The roof leaked (these buses would not pass inspection in Afghanistan).
Now to the other form that must be downloaded from the internet. No, it is not available anywhere else, she told me. I don't know how many of you have tried to navigate any governmental web site, but try it in Spanish. Well, armed with my Spanish dictionary I began. There were some areas that even with the dictionary I had no clue what they wanted, so I just left them blank and then printed out the form (how one exists here without a computer and printer, I do not know). A few days later (with my profile photos) I went back to the office. The same girl told me that I had printed out the wrong form. She pointed to something on the form about "Adobe Reader". I figured that I would have to download it, and then print out the form. But back at home, I discovered that my printer already had the latest version of Adobe Reader, so I tried it again. The same form came up. I printed it out and headed back to immigration. Again she refused the form and suggested I go to an internet shop down the street (a 15 minute walk).
There the nice man set me up at a computer and brought up the correct web site, but I got the same page. He insisted it would be all right and asked me to fill out the form (for the third time) Well, of course my reading glasses were left next to my computer at home. I did the best I could and the nice man showed me that at the bottom of the page there are two little icons. One said "limpiar" ( knew that meant clean or erase) the other said, "guardar" I had ignored it, but all he had to do was to click there and up pops the correct form.
I went back again to the girl at the desk and presented her with the correct form. She then went through all my documents and discovered that I only had 3 passport photos from the front side. I gave her my pained expression again and explained that I had 4 photos, but in shuffling back and forth three times, I must have lost one. She said that the 3 would do (why, if 3 would do, did they ask for 4?) Then she gave me a new number. I had been number 4 in the morning, now I was number 33 with 6 people ahead of me.
Finally my number came up and I handed him all my stuff. He carefully went over every line of every page. He was particularly fascinated with my bank statement, carefully reading every debit charge (I have no idea why). Then he discovered that while filling out the last form without my glasses, I had missed the expiration date on my passport by one day. He said I would need a new form! The pained expression on my face was real this time. I told him that I had already filled out the form three times and made three trips there. He did something on the computer and left the room. A few minutes later he came out with the form correctly printed with the right date. If they had the form there all along, then WHY...??? Oh well, it is Mexico. He told me to come back on Monday at 11:00 and they would have printed out an explanation of why I was late. I would have to sign that, take it to a bank (another 15 minute walk) and get a receipt for paying the fine. Then I would have to wait 10 days, download another form off the computer and come back and pay the real fee.
That morning it rained (the first morning since the last time I went to immigration). By the time I left the rain had stopped. I explained that I had an appointment at 11:00, but NO ! I had to sign in and get a number. When I was called up, I got the same man I had last week. He looked over the paper he had given me on Friday, pulled out my file and had me sign a paper that I had already signed. Then he handed me back the same paper I gave him and told me to wait 10 days and then go into the computer and download another document and then I could come in and pay the fine. I told him that he said I could pay the fine today. NO! You must wait 10 days, pay the fine, then wait another 10 days to pick up the card.
When I went back, I got a different girl that did give me the paper work for my fine. It was 1,558 pesos (more than the permit costs), but I could not pay the fine for two more days. "NO" she said, you cannot pay the fine until Thursday and the receipt (in duplicate) must be presented to the office on the same day. I play bridge on Thursday, so I was at the bank when it opened. I got the receipt duplicated at the internet office I visited before and when to Immigration. I had to take a number and wait. The same lady took the paper work and disappeared behind the wall again. Maybe they have coffee breaks there, but they are always disappearing behind that wall. She reappeared and told me to come back in a week (but not before) At that time I would be given the bill for the permit, go back to the bank to get a receipt, duplicate it and return to the office and the FM3 card would be issued.
I am going to assume that everything will go smoothly and this sage will be over (always the optimist!). Besides I am tired of writing about it so I am going to post this anyway. I have to get back to my problems with the cable company, the electric company, and finding a new apartment. There is always something to occupy my old mind.
I know what you are thinking "Why would anyone want to live in Mexico" Well, there are compensations (like the 48 hours of no booze) and the people are basically really nice. Dealing with anything to do with a governmental agency is very, very difficult. But, as I have said before, these "little problems" keeps my mind active (this is important at my age). My life here is never dull, sometimes very frustrating, but never boring.
********************************************
Monday, July 2, 2012
THE WORST 48 HOURS IN MEXICO
Luckily it only happens only once every six years. People had been talking about it for six months, as if it was the real Dooms Day. Everyone was worried about it. Election day was approaching ! They close all the bars, and all sales of alcohol are prohibited from Friday at midnight until midnight Sunday. Why do they close on Friday, when the election isn't until Sunday? Well ... because it is Mexico.
I had bought plenty of beer and checked to make sure I still had a few wine bottles left, so I was prepared. Or, so I thought. Saturday Jose (with the stand below my balcony) stopped and asked if he could borrow six beers to get him through the week end. I said, "Sure! for I stocked up" He answered that he had too, but his brother-in-law had drank it all that morning.
It was nice not to have the drunk that sleeps on the stairs to my building. I don't know why he decided to live under my balcony, maybe because he can panhandle the tourists getting off the buses. When he isn't talking to himself he sings. He has the loudest booming voice I have ever heard. He could have been a tenor at the opera (if he knew what that was). He just disappeared. I have no idea if he stayed home (assuming he actually has a home) or they locked him up. Anyway it was much quieter with out him.
Sunday morning after watering my plants, hosing the patio and moping the floors I took off for my morning latte. Of course all the bars and liquor stores were closed, but also a lot of restaurants decided not to open. It was like a ghost town. They have to return to their home states to vote, so I lot of the people who work here went home for the week end. I was happy to find my coffee house still open. There were almost no cars on the streets. Then I noticed that the pick ups packed with kids and boom boxes weren't going up and down the streets blasting away.
On the way back, Jose stopped me with a pleading look on his face. Could he have more beer? His brother in law had ..... Yeah, Yeah! Mexicans never plan ahead for anything, even 48 hours with no booze. I told him I would have to count what was left and he followed me to my apartment. Then, I remembered that my neighbor upstairs had invited me for Sunday dinner the night before. I had eagerly
accepted as I normally spent every night in a bar and had nothing to do. Checking my stock, I decided that since I wasn't going to be home anyway, he could have another six pack. It was around 7:00 (just before I was invited for dinner) that my neighbor came down to ask if I had any wine. Did she really forget about the elections, or was this dinner just a ruse for booze.
The dinner turned out to be quite nice. She had barbequed and set up a table on her terrace. Because her terrace has no cover, I was afraid it would rain any moment, but it did not. After we finished my bottle of wine, it turned out she did have some wine. Well sort of ... it was in a little carton container about the size of a small box of crackers. I was tired anyway and excused myself. When I got home I found I still had two bottles of beer left and one bottle of wine, so I survived the 48 hours.
All in all, I would say that I rather enjoyed it. The town was extremely quiet. The people getting on and off the buses made no noise. Mexicans really have no idea what to do or how to behave when they are sober. So mark down the date of the first Sunday in July, in 2018. But if you bring your own booze, it is really not that bad.
****************************************
I had bought plenty of beer and checked to make sure I still had a few wine bottles left, so I was prepared. Or, so I thought. Saturday Jose (with the stand below my balcony) stopped and asked if he could borrow six beers to get him through the week end. I said, "Sure! for I stocked up" He answered that he had too, but his brother-in-law had drank it all that morning.
It was nice not to have the drunk that sleeps on the stairs to my building. I don't know why he decided to live under my balcony, maybe because he can panhandle the tourists getting off the buses. When he isn't talking to himself he sings. He has the loudest booming voice I have ever heard. He could have been a tenor at the opera (if he knew what that was). He just disappeared. I have no idea if he stayed home (assuming he actually has a home) or they locked him up. Anyway it was much quieter with out him.
Sunday morning after watering my plants, hosing the patio and moping the floors I took off for my morning latte. Of course all the bars and liquor stores were closed, but also a lot of restaurants decided not to open. It was like a ghost town. They have to return to their home states to vote, so I lot of the people who work here went home for the week end. I was happy to find my coffee house still open. There were almost no cars on the streets. Then I noticed that the pick ups packed with kids and boom boxes weren't going up and down the streets blasting away.
On the way back, Jose stopped me with a pleading look on his face. Could he have more beer? His brother in law had ..... Yeah, Yeah! Mexicans never plan ahead for anything, even 48 hours with no booze. I told him I would have to count what was left and he followed me to my apartment. Then, I remembered that my neighbor upstairs had invited me for Sunday dinner the night before. I had eagerly
accepted as I normally spent every night in a bar and had nothing to do. Checking my stock, I decided that since I wasn't going to be home anyway, he could have another six pack. It was around 7:00 (just before I was invited for dinner) that my neighbor came down to ask if I had any wine. Did she really forget about the elections, or was this dinner just a ruse for booze.
The dinner turned out to be quite nice. She had barbequed and set up a table on her terrace. Because her terrace has no cover, I was afraid it would rain any moment, but it did not. After we finished my bottle of wine, it turned out she did have some wine. Well sort of ... it was in a little carton container about the size of a small box of crackers. I was tired anyway and excused myself. When I got home I found I still had two bottles of beer left and one bottle of wine, so I survived the 48 hours.
All in all, I would say that I rather enjoyed it. The town was extremely quiet. The people getting on and off the buses made no noise. Mexicans really have no idea what to do or how to behave when they are sober. So mark down the date of the first Sunday in July, in 2018. But if you bring your own booze, it is really not that bad.
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