As we’ve now lived here more than four years (how time flies under a facemask!), Judy and I have experienced most of the peculiarities of expat life in Mexico. And by peculiarities, I mean those little distractions, annoyances, or absurdities that make you go “what the . . . ” before shrugging your shoulders and finishing the thought with “solo en México” (only in Mexico).
There was the driver’s test–on computer–wherein it didn’t matter how we answered, we still passed. The time that we got a red light at customs and got to unpack our entire luggage, one item at a time, and explain what it is and why we have it, which of course coincided with my wife importing a year’s supply of make-up. The time the government refused to reimburse the temporary importation visa for my US car, and wanted me to prove I still had the car in the US, when it had never entered Mexico.
As you may have noticed, these events all involve government bureaucracy. Now, we have had many good stories to tell about visas approved, licenses renewed, taxes paid. But those stories are boring; the fun ones involve the trouble. So many went smoothly, some went poorly . . . and then there was SIMAPA.
SIMAPA stands for the Sistema Municipal de Agua Potable y Alcantarillado (de Chapala), that is the municipal water and sanitation authority. And in my opinion, they are the gold medalist in the bureaucratic olympiad. Before I explain why, it is fair to note that water has a history in Mexico, and that history plays a part. Being an arid country, water has always been a scarce resource. Those who had access to water often used it to control the poor, to seek advantage over rivals, or simply to lord it over those without access.
So as Mexico went through its various wars of independence and revolution, access to water came to be seen by the people as a fundamental right: and so it is, in the Mexican constitution. It is so fundamental that access to water cannot be totally shut off even if the recipient does not pay for it. Water bills are sometimes paid collectively by a home-owners association, and talk to any HOA board and you’ll find stories of owners who haven’t paid water dues for years. You can reduce the flow to some small amount, but you can’t shut it off; and that goes for the government, as well.
Likewise for sewage. If you’re hooked into municipal sewer lines, there’s an initial fee for accessing, and a yearly fee. But here’s the rub: there’s no way to shut the sewage flow off. So again, non-payment is a problem.
Our condominio (roughly, our development) has its own well, so we don’t use SIMAPA for fresh water. But we are hooked up to the municipal sewer lines. Our house was built in 2012, and round about late 2019 our condominio received notice from SIMAPA that, “hey, y’all are hooked up to the sewer lines, but you haven’t paid anything, so please do so.” My wife dutifully took a copy of the e-mail down to the local SIMAPA office, where she explained (in Spanish) that we needed to pay. The ladies working there looked at the e-mail (in English), looked at our address, then explained we didn’t have an account, so we could not pay. At that, they went back to their busy desks. One might assume a municipal authority would be interested in receiving seven years of back payments; one would be wrong (in Mexico).
Time passed and the quarantine hit, and since our sewage kept flowing away, we sort of forgot all about it. Finally we talked with a neighbor who reminded us we were supposed to go to the SIMAPA office and ask to “start an account.” The magic words (in Spanish) were not “pay a bill” but “start an account” and we needed a copy of our identification papers and a copy of our deed. We collected the pesos (in cash, naturally) and all the documents and copies and went back to SIMAPA.
Round Two began as a replay of Round One. We said we needed to start an account, but the SIMAPA ladies checked their online records and assured us we didn’t have an account. Yes, we knew that, but we produced our documentation and they threw up their hands and called the supervisor, who spoke English–up to that point, we had engaged in Spanish. The supervisor reviewed our deed copy and explained it was not an official copy, so we would have to return with an official copy in order to start an account. One might assume a municipal authority would be more interested in collecting now nine years of back payments, and was there really a problem in Mexico with people showing up to fraudulently pay OTHER PEOPLE’S DELINQUENT SEWAGE BILLS? One would be mistaken.
Weeks later, we collected an official deed copy, the pesos, copies of every bill and identification we could muster, extra copies of all these, and went back to SIMAPA for Round Three. We entered the office and cheerfully greeted the SIMAPA ladies; Judy even complimented one woman on her embroidered blouse (smiles all around). We explained that we did not have an account, but we needed to start one and pay our arrears. The SIMAPA ladies quickly checked online and confirmed we did not have an account (*sigh*–an unsettling déjà vu descended on us).
The supervisor reviewed our official deed, then used it just to provide our address to the woman at the keyboard. She began the (apparently) laborious process of opening a new account. Now everybody should have an account, but one felt like this was the first time an account had ever been opened. There was discussion about how to enter the address, how to print the bill, and even (no kidding) how much to charge us. The supervisor even asked us if we had an e-mail from the condominio stating what the charges were for this year! Wasn’t SIMAPA the ones who determined the charges, I thought? I told him “no” initially, but Judy checked her account and did find it.
They proceeded to develop a receipt, but I could see the supervisor and the lady on the keyboard were a little concerned by the size of the bill. It was, after all, for many years, and I am sure they have had some surly customers come in and go ballistic over a large bill. I told them they had approximated the bill for us once before, so we were ready for it, which seemed to alleviate their concerns. I even joked that we only wanted to pay our bill, not purchase all of SIMAPA (I got a little smile for that Dad-joke).
Finally, we paid the bill, got signed originals of the account statement, and went on our way, safe in the knowledge we were no longer sewage outlaws.
Solo en México.