Breaking Good

So yesterday, Judy and I went from “in-process” to owners of genuine Mexican government-issued visas, aka green cards. We were notified by Francisco, who we retained to shepherd us through the immigration process, that our cards were ready for pick up. We dutifully headed to the nondescript INM office in nearby Chapala and joined a gaggle of expats queuing up out front before the 9:00 opening time.

When the office opened, we all shuffled in; we were #16/17 in line. The queue was established by writing your name in a giant notebook at the front of the small office, which looked like every other bureaucracy waiting room in the world. Queue discipline was enforced by a stern-looking gentleman in a guard uniform who called out the names one at a time, kept a stray dog from entering the building, controlled the remote for the waiting room TV (we watched “Hoy!”…you guessed it, “Today!”), and occasionally shouted “Silencio!” when the crowd got too rowdy. We were out in under an hour, after signing for receipt of our cards in another giant notebook. The women who processed our applications did have and use a computer terminal on the counter, but the queue process and receipt were pure analog.

As I mentioned in a previous post, I applied for a residente temporal visa and Judy for a residente permanente visa.  Let’s start with the latter. As the title “permanente” implies, Judy has permanent status in Mexico as a resident alien. She never has to apply for, pay for, or further adjust her status in Mexico (unless they change their laws, but in general, when they do, they grandfather your existing residency status).  She can freely leave and return to Mexico as often as she likes, and whenever she crosses its borders she uses the same lanes that Mexican citizens use.  She cannot vote in Mexico, and she remains a United States citizen. She cannot engage in Mexican political activity (a big no-no), although she could remain politically-active in US politics (but why would she?). She could work in Mexico (but why would she?). She can get a Mexican driver’s license (in addition to her US/Ohio license), buy/sell property, own and register a Mexican car, and buy/keep a (single) gun (but why would she?). One note: as a permanente, she cannot drive a foreign-plated (i.e., US) car in Mexico, so my FJ is off-limits.

I applied for the residente temporal, which has mostly the same privileges and restrictions, except it is only good for a set duration (annual up to four years) and has to be renewed.  I have a one-year visa. One advantage of the temporal is it has lower income/resource requirements (i.e., you have to show you will not be a drag on the Mexican economy if you apply for a temporal or permanente, but the latter has higher minimums). The application costs almost as much as a permanente, but the permanente is a one-time cost, while the temporal is recurring. Probably the biggest single difference is since a temporal visa holder is theoretically only visiting Mexico, the temporal can own/drive a foreign-plated car while in the country. This was the main reason driving us (pun intended) to choose the mixed visa route: I could load/drive down the FJ and take it back to the States later for sale.  I cannot sell the FJ in Mexico: but why would I, as the resale market for FJs is pretty hot back in the States.

So with our newly-minted green cards, we’ll next undertake our single largest purchase since arriving in Mexico: a new car.  I will update y’all on how that compares to the “thrill” of car-buying in the States in a future post.