I wanted to share with you a story that happened to me yesterday. (Please read the below email first before you continue to read this). Okay, now that you're up-to-date with my visa process I can tell you about my new interpreter who can't speak English.
Marcial is my new best friend. He is in his late 60's, is a father of three and has two grandchildren. He and I drive around Lima all day taking care of all my paperwork. He doesn't speak English but I can speak a little Spanish so we get by okay. Tuesday morning I had to be at the Peruvian Work Minister at 7am to accomplish one of the scavenger hunt tasks on my list. Marcial picks me up and we go to the Minister. The doors are closed to the office and there is a line of people going around the building, similar to people waiting outside a homeless shelter for the doors to open for breakfast. Marcial looks at me and says, "Dios mio, mira a todos los gentes." Which just means... Oh my god, look at all the people.
So, I get in line as Marcial patiently waits in the car for me. I ask some people in front of me when the doors open and they said 7:30. Not bad, only 30 minute wait I guess. Around 7:30 a security guard comes out of the front door and one by one asks people why they are there and asks them to show proof of why they are there. I am not quite sure what he is doing, but by the time he gets to me he has kicked out 30 people for being in the wrong place and now I am standing fourth from the door. He gets to me, I show him my scavenger hunt list and tell him I'm here to pick up a couple things for my work visa. He gives me the okay and I feel like one of the lucky ones. Marcial actually got out of the car and walked over to make sure everything was okay. Then I ask the security guard when the doors will open and he says 8:30. I look at Marcial and he gives me the you've-got-to-be-kidding-look.
Finally, 8:30 comes and the doors open. We walk into the office, which looks more similar to a sweat shop than a work minister - but hell, I've never been in an office of a work minister (whatever that means) so I guess this is okay. There are many small desks everywhere, with workers behind them looking at their computers... I walked by one of the workers and she was looking at her Windows screen saver move around on her desktop - seriously. I am officially in the twighlight zone. I have my taxi driver/interpreter who is helping me ask who I need to talk to. We finally find the correct person and I give her all my information. She asks me several questions that I don't understand, so I do the natural thing and turn to my trusty interpreter standing next to me and give him a confused look. He says the exact same thing to me that the woman had just said... still in spanish.
I feel like I'm on Mars... my Spanish is at best primitive, like a 4 year old. I can communicate and get around the city okay, but when it comes to specific details about specific forms I am lost. So I look at Marcial with the same confused look that I gave the lady. At this point the lady is laughing at me because I brought someone with me that doesn't speak my language and really doesn't know much about what I'm doing... he's my taxi driver. After I get her to stop laughing at the two of us - Abbot and Costello comes to mind at this time - I hand her a form that I received from Santa Maria. She says that this form is for foreigners who are married to Peruvians. Since I'm not married I must fill out another form. I get the next form and it has another long list of things for me to do. I say thanks and we leave, but before we can go, the lady tells me something that makes me laugh... she says that I need a new interpreter.
At this point everyone in the office is laughing at us so I'm happy that I could make their morning a little brighter.
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