My visa was set to expire the 29th of January. Obviously, that sort of interferes with my plan to live in Ecuador for my whole life. However, the procedure was simple. You just go to immigration about 2 days before your visa expires and ask for an extension. They can give you up to three months. Or so we thought.
The 27th of January, two days before my visa is set to expire, we go to immigration, just like we’re supposed to. We get there and the man at the desk kindly informs us that they no longer do extensions, but that they might be able to help us in Foreign Affairs across town. I’m starting to feel nervous.
We go to Foreign Affairs. We read a sign on the door that has their hours listed. We’re too late, by minutes. We’ll just come back tomorrow. No big deal. Wait. What day is tomorrow? Wednesday? They’re closed on Wednesday. And Thursday my visa officially expires. I’m starting to cry.
We go back to immigration. Explain our situation. The man at the desk says as long as we get the extension on Friday before midnight it’s no big deal. Ok. Deep breath. There’s still a chance.
Wednesday I’m worried. Very worried. I just got married. I don’t want to leave my husband. What will I even do in the US? My life is here now. I want to stay. I need to stay! I’m praying a lot.
Thursday morning, very early, we get up and head across town to Foreign Affairs, in bus. It takes over an hour. Now we’re both nervous. No one’s saying much. We get in to the office, take a number. Number 77. They finally call our number and we go talk to the man at the first window. He says Ecuador no longer gives extensions to American citizens, however they do give tourist visas, which take only a week to process. ONLY a week? I need it today!
We explain what happened, the bad information we were given in immigration. He says, ok no big deal. The visa only costs $230 and the late fee is only $200. Gee, what a relief. Because the next step after my visa is applying for dual nationality, which only costs $300! Only! I start to cry. Do you blame me?
Ok, he tells us to go to the next window and talk to Jaime. He knows more about the tourist visa. He probably can’t do anything to help us, but he’s our only shot. Once again we explain the situation. He’s sorry, there’s nothing he can do. Well, up until this point I had my tears held back, but not anymore. We don’t have $730 to burn.
A change of heart. Ok, he says. You have to get the visa if you want to stay. No way around that. But the late fee may not apply if we can get the paperwork in today. We close in one hour. Here’s a list of what you need: Two visa applications filled out, two passport-size photos, a bank statement for all bank accounts, a copy of your marriage license, a copy of your passport, and a letter to the director of immigration typed on the computer in Spanish explaining why I need the visa. Good luck!
We leave the office at warp speed, determined to get everything done. It’s our only chance! Right outside the office of Foreign Affairs there’s a business that offers passport-size photos. Apparently they realized that it would be a good opportunity for cash since a lot of people who have business in Foreign Affairs need these. I love Ecuador. We get the pictures. He has a copy machine, too. Great! Let’s get the copy of my passport, too. Two things done already. This is good! But I forgot a fundamental rule of all Ecuadorian businesses. No one has change for a twenty. He wants to know if I have any smaller bills. This time I honestly don’t. He goes to get change from a neighbor. Fifteen minutes pass. No change. Ok, no big deal. I’ll borrow a pen and get the applications filled out. I have to do that anyway. Another five minutes, and we’re in business. I take my change and we run to the nearest internet café...which isn’t that close by. I get into my account in Maine and print my statement. Yes! Now to print my Illinois account. The website is down. Crap. Ok, well we’re here anyway, let’s write the letter to the director. Actually, it would be easier for Jairo to write it, right? A few minutes of trying to sound as official as possible, and we’re off. The ATMs at Banco Pichincha give you your balance when you make a transaction, and we need to take out $230. So I just use my card from Illinois to take out the money and I get my balance. Nice! Back to Foreign Affairs with fifteen minutes to spare.
Take a number and wait. We’re out of breath. I’m still nervous. We go up to Jaime’s window. He looks over the papers and finds all but one. Our marriage license. Which we left in Puyo. Five hours from here. He wants to know why he should believe that we’re married. We tell him we can give it to him tomorrow. He says to be sure that we do.
We call the pastor in Puyo who has the license and he says he’ll send it to us by bus, and we’ll get it first thing tomorrow morning. Good. Friday morning we go to the terminal to get the paper and they don’t want to give it to us. More than a half hour of talking gets us nowhere until they decide to let us talk to the manager, finally. She says it’s fine, take the paper. We get to Foreign Affairs later than we planned, but they’re still open. Jaime says he believed us and approved the paperwork yesterday. It’s all set. My passport will be ready on Tuesday. We leave much happier than when we came in.
What did I learn? Don’t ever stop having faith. So many times I’ve seen God pull through at the last possible moment. He doesn’t always rescue us at what seems to be the opportune moment, but He is always in control, and He’s on our side. For God, all things are possible.
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