Although the SEGOB website told me that I should report to the office on the 10th of the month, we had to delay this trip. First, we had to get a new battery for the truck (see Getting Legal–Trip 3). Then we had to repair the piece of the undercarriage that was damaged on the last trip (See Getting Legal–Trip 4) and we also had to obtain another verification sticker (See Getting Legal–Trip 1) to avoid multas (fines) or mordidas (bribes). But finally, on the 18th of the month, we were ready to go.
My husband began his marching about very early the next morning and shooed us out of the house before my son and I were quite awake. We said our prayers or crossed ourselves asking for a safe and successful journey there and back and started out.
We arrived in San Miguel de Allende very early, it was just after 8 a.m. As the office didn’t open until 9 a.m. and there wasn’t a soul in sight, we parked and walked a block to the Bodega for a second breakfast. We were only gone about 10 minutes, but when we returned, there was a line from the door to the street. I got in line with the rest and waited. I felt a little odd next to the gringos with their carrot juice and granola bars with my canned coffee and a huge chocolate doughnut bigger than my hand, but what can I say? The doughnut ended up being more than I could comfortably eat, but I didn’t want to risk my place in line to throw it in the trash, so I choked it down.
Then I waiting for the window ticket. It wasn’t exceptionally long, under an hour. I got to the counter, my husband right there with me in case he had to soothe my nerves (See Getting Legal–Trip 3) and the clerk asked what I was there for. I said, hopefully, to pick up my residency. He asked what the website said, and when I said just to come and present myself at the office, he said then my residency probably wasn’t ready yet, but that he’d look anyway. So for a heart lurching moment, I waited, fingers crossed, but it was there after all. I signed saying that I received my document and at my husband’s urging, checked it right then, to make sure it was in the envelope. Ironically, or perhaps intentionally, the card for Mexican permanent residency is green. So now I have my “green card”–get it? Even my photo (no bangs, no glasses, no earrings) wasn’t too bad. I floated out to the truck.
We were stopped in Celaya even with our two verification stickers prominently displayed on the windshield. The transito (traffic cop) asked to see my husband’s driver’s license and permiso de circular (permission to circulate the vehicle). He had both documents, so there was no problem and we continued on down the road.
We stopped in Yuriria for lunch and had tacos de tripa (tripe tacos) to celebrate a successful conclusion to this process.