Christmas, the one thing that arrives early in Colombia

@wwaycorrigan

[Listen to an audio version of this blog entry here.]

Back in my largely innocent childhood days one of the most depressing times was when Christmas came to an end. In fact, the painful comedown started to kick in shortly after the 25th of December.

Decking out the place for Christmas ... in October.

Everything was building up to the giddy excitement of early on Christmas morning, discovering all the goodies Santa had delivered — they were never in doubt, seeing how I was such a little angel all year.

Quick-fire Christmas

So, while the afterglow lasted for a period, the sad realisation that I'd have to wait another year for Mr Claus' arrival didn't take long to set in. Within a couple of days, the spectre of a return to school and 'normal' times began to play on my mind.

Now, I do recall the official — that is to say, putting up the decorations — Corrigan run-in to Christmas being fairly short. 

Amongst my village friends, our household would invariably be one of the last to be decked out. It wasn't unusual for some frantic decorating to still be happening on the 24th. 'Time enough for it', was the thinking, I guess. I'm pretty sure if it was left to my father, decorations wouldn't go up at all.

At the height of the Celtic Tiger years as Ireland embraced US-style flashiness, or superficiality you might say, and as I moved on from Santa, it pretty much became unacceptable for any respected family not to have their house 'Christmas ready' by mid-December. (At about the same time, again mimicking our Yankee cousins, Halloween decorations appeared to have become mandatory in many households.)

That being so, for what I assume is the majority of Irish people, rolling out the Christmas decorations before December is still a no-no. Five weeks of Christmas is enough, almost one-tenth of the year as it is. The fact that most radio stations hold off on playing festive tunes until at least 01 December is a sign of that.

'As a sufferer of depression, I can't help but think of her state of mind when she has to take down all these Christmas decorations, in mid-January at the earliest as it most likely will be.'

For a fair number of Colombian families, in contrast, the Yuletide yearning tends to show itself in earnest in October. While some might follow the 'let's at least get Halloween out of the way first' mantra — do note, the 'night of the dead' is a lively affair here — others have their sights set on Christmas.

Radio stations are complicit. The end-of-year hits are being banged out as soon as September ends.

In my current house share, the landlady is very much in this bring-on-Christmas brigade. For the last week, she's been, slowly but surely, kitting out the place. By the looks of things, not one inch of the house, the ground floor anyway, will be free from a festive covering.

Emotional moment

It doesn't bother me, as long as I don't have to do any of the decorating. I'm kind of indifferent to Christmas at this stage.

I do, however, slightly worry for the landlady herself. As somebody who appears to suffer from depression, I can't help but think of her state of mind when she has to take down all these decorations, in mid-January at the earliest as it most likely will be.

Of course, we all have downers after highs, it's natural. 'What goes up' and all that.

Yet, the lady of my current 'manor', considering her condition, seems to be putting herself through an unnecessary emotional high. I just hope she can manage the inevitable comedown when it's all over, when everything from the Santa dolls to the glittery balls has to be packed away.

You might say I'm being a bit of a curmudgeon, a Grinch even. I beg to differ. I like a party as much as the next person.

It's just that experience has taught me to try to not get too lost in the moment when surfing the high waves. That way, you'll generally be in a better position to manage the crash when it envelops you, you'll be able to avoid being drowned by emotions.

That's the theory, anyway. As ever, executing it in practice is usually much more difficult. At least we've covid-19 to keep us all in check this year.
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Colombia's tough love

@wwaycorrigan

[Listen to an audio version of this blog entry here.]

'Sure this lad will clearly do anything to stay in Colombia. Just look at his record. Nine visa applications in the last seven years plus three salvoconductos. We could ask him to submit a big, juicy papaya next time, and no doubt he'd do it.'

Alas, it appears to be unrequited love. (Image from Facebook.)

Social media diplomacy
It's stretching it somewhat to think that officials at La Cancillería Colombia have actually ever uttered words similar to the above. 

It's highly unlikely that there's a red line under my name at the country's visa-issuing authority — well, I'm pretty sure there wasn't, that might have changed now in light of recent, unsolicited media coverage.

Nonetheless, and at the risk of coming across as a "victim" here, I'd wager that throughout these seven years since getting my first Colombian visa few other independent foreigners based here have handed over as much hard-earned cash as I have in terms of visa applications and related processes.

Events of the last few weeks have reminded us that obediently and quietly following the visa/immigration rules in Colombia, especially if you're having difficulties in obtaining exactly what you want, doesn't always work in your favour.

No. The more advantageous route, for certain individuals, is to kick up a public fuss, rally the masses to your cause — if you can, that is — and Colombian officialdom will cave in to your needs. You do this while at the same time repeatedly say how much you love and respect the country.

You could equate it to a man telling a woman everything she wants to hear in order to sleep with her. In truth, with just the gentlest of scratching below the surface, his actions show how he cares little for her. She is no more than an object to be used and abused.

Yet, mesmerise your target with public displays of affection that conceal a threat, appear as a caring, loving, selfless individual and in no time the putty shapes itself exactly how you want it.

'No serious foreigner thinking about visiting or living in the country would seek out the advice of these Colombia-can-do-no-wrong types.'

Dishonesty is the best policy. Respect is only forthcoming if the other party loses respect for itself. It's not a relationship of equals, it's one of domination, built largely on false premises.

Forbidden fruit
In the specific case of Colombia's love affair with its foreign-born influencers — influencers whose business model is to say practically nothing negative about their adopted place — submissive Colombia believes it is getting something in return: The positive promotion of the country abroad.

The reality is more a case of Colombia being sold to Colombians. No serious foreigner thinking about visiting or living in the country would seek out the advice of these Colombia-can-do-no-wrong types.

Again, you're telling your sleeping partner exactly what she wants to hear yet both you and her know it's an act, a fantasy. And what you tell her doesn't really go any further than the bedroom. 

If it does happen to reach a wider audience, most observers are intelligent enough to understand it's little more than sweet nothings whispered at the moment of passion.

I've never been great at these exaggerated displays of affection — not too many Irish people are really, it's safe to assume. 

However, my attempts to stay in Colombia since the independent visa application became more complicated in 2018 have, it could be argued, smacked of desperation.

It reminds one of the old saying here, 'Él que muestra el hambre, no come,' 'He who shows hunger, doesn't eat.' It's time I started devouring that life-giving papaya myself rather than foolishly giving it away.
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Colombia's Migración mess

@wwaycorrigan

[Listen to an audio version of this blog entry here.]

In September, Migración Colombia, the body responsible for granting extensions to temporary tourist passes, announced that the grace period for foreign visitors who found themselves stranded in the country was coming to an end.

Opening on Saturdays is a help, but is it enough? (Image from Facebook.)

Escape from limbo land

From the 21st of the month, days spent here would, in effect, start to be counted again, having been frozen when lockdown was introduced in March. 

For tourists, the deadline is 01 November to either apply for another 90-day permit or leave. 

If you're leaving within the time period, well that's straightforward enough. However, it gets trickier if you're looking for an extension as this requires an in-person meeting at a Migración office.

The initial communication from the government body stated that all appointments must be booked online. Those who turned up at Migración without one would be turned away. 

However, facing into a six-month backlog and reopening at only 30 per cent capacity, securing an appointment any time this year quickly became next to impossible for many. 

You see, it's not only tourists Migración deals with. All foreigners based here who aren't currently residents or citizens have to use its services at least once a year. 

Those who, during lockdown, were granted a visa or residency — a fully online process done with a different entity, La Cancillería — are expected to have these registered at Migración. This is one side of the same coin for the issuing of an ID card — cédula extranjería — corresponding to said visa/residency.

As far as I'm aware, this process must be begun on or before 21 October. (In old-normal times you had 15 days to register a newly-issued visa.)

'I've been told of incidents where people with such emergencies were refused entry to a Migración office because they didn't have an appointment reserved online. This is completely at odds with the official line.'

That deadline also applies to foreigners living here who had a visa/residency application deemed inadmissible or whose visas have expired or who find themselves in the country as an "irregular" for whatever reason. 

How I initially understood it was that those in such a position had only to register their intent to legalise their status, which in most instances means applying for an emergency stay called a salvoconducto. (Another option is to leave the country at the earliest possible opportunity — that usually means no more than 30 days after a visa expiry date.) 

If these people in limbo can't get an actual in-person appointment before 21 October because the system is overwhelmed, surely they can't be held responsible for that?

It now appears, however, Migración expects such cases to have reached a conclusion by the deadline. 

The latest advice on its website states that if your appointment is after the date your document expires or you simply can't get an appointment and yours is a case that needs urgent attention, you should go immediately to one of its offices, preferably, I'm guessing, the one closest to you. 

But for the grace of Duque?

That's the official line. As is often the case with such things, though, what's happening on the ground is different. I've been told of incidents where people in such dilemmas were refused entry because they didn't have an appointment reserved online. 

I'm also aware of a number of Bogotá-based foreigners being forced to travel to Migración offices in cities hundreds of kilometres away to resolve their situation before they became irregular. Great in these coronavirus times, isn't it?

One of these was somebody applying for residency. A day before his latest visa expired he received notification from La Cancillería that his application was deemed inadmissible — something that seems to be happening to a lot of folk requesting visas or residency these days.

Thus, faced with losing the continuity of five years of visas, the most crucial, time-consuming requirement for a residency bid, he had to hightail it from the capital to Neiva in order to seek a salvoconducto from the Migración office there, effectively buying time to sort out the issue with his original residency application. 

It worked out for him, he got what he needed. However, this is the exact type of case where I would have thought flexibility would be forthcoming from both La Cancillería and Migración. 

The applicant didn't want to test that, hence his last-minute dash south to Neiva. It must be said, the fact these processes involve two different government entities doesn't help.

The chief press officer at Migración did tell me in a WhatsApp message that they were being flexible. I've no reason to doubt that. I must also state that I've always found officials at that body reasonable and informative. 

Nonetheless, potential arbitrary flexibility and understanding aside, one immediate solution to all of this would be an extension to the grace period. We're still in the middle of this pandemic after all. Forcing people into unplanned travel in such times doesn't seem like best practice. 

So, President Duque, you have it in your power to tidy up this messy situation. Or are the conspiracy theorists on to something? Is Colombia systematically forcing foreigners out? Surely not. _______________________________________________________________
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Caveat emptor with Localiza

@wwaycorrigan

[Listen to an audio version of this blog here.]

One of the biggest annoyances for foreigners from higher-income countries settled here in Colombia is the constant risk of being charged the 'gringo tax'.

Not worth the paper it's written on? Apparently not.

Basically, there's a belief, not without foundation in some cases, that we have more money and greater access to resources than the locals, thus it's fine to charge us more when the opportunity arises. 

Going loco with Localiza

This plays out in many different ways across a range of sectors. However, in my own experience, I find it happens more so in smaller, family-run type businesses than in bigger companies. 

This is not to say, though, that those larger operators are more honest — it's just a reflection of where the majority of my interactions occur.

A friend's recent experience with an apparently reputable car hire company suggests the "big boys" will also try to extract as much as they can from you if they feel they can get away with it. 

Of course, this is not exclusive to Colombia, it happens the world over. Nonetheless, I tend to find that the culture here means there is, unfortunately, little pushback against such practices. 

It's why I feel the need to share my friend's woes with the aptly named Localiza (my emphasis, but perhaps they'll consider it in future marketing campaigns — always here to help, guys). A buyer, nay renter, beware cautionary tale.

On hiring a car from the company for a few days, the employee who delivered it to him wrote down on the receipt that the return time was between 15:00 and 16:00, and not the official 14:00 owing to the time of day he was receiving it (see photo above). 

So it was to my friend's unpleasant surprise that when he dropped back the car around 15:00, he was told he was an hour late and would be charged accordingly. 

'There's a general rule in Colombia that if you feel you've been hard done by, the last thing you should do is get angry with the source of your ire.'

He argued the point all the way to the office, leaving the car parked up without doing a final check with Localiza staff (never a wise move). 

He was then told there was a scratch on the windscreen which happened under his watch. My friend says it was there the day he picked up the car but because it was so minor (see below) he let it go. 

The company charged him 1,400,000 COP — about 310 euros — for that defect. Following the lodging of an official complaint, Localiza has agreed to give back 600,000 COP of that fine, inside the next 30 to 60 days. No rush, lads. 

A lost cause

A cynic might say that because he protested over the return-hour discrepancy — this set him back a mere 16,000 COP (3.50 euros) but it was the principle of it that annoyed him — Localiza staff decided to 'go after the cheeky gringo' for much more. 

(There's a general rule in Colombia that if you feel you've been hard done by, the last thing you should do is get angry with the source of your ire. Try, as difficult as it might be, to play it cool, even bring humour into it, and you might get a more satisfactory result.)

The offending scratch.

Whatever the case, considering how the company behaved over the return time, one can't rule anything in or out over the windscreen-scratch debacle. Also, that they've now decided to refund almost half of what they charged for that damage, it appears they were more than covering any potential additional costs on their part.

The whole episode is an apt reminder to always be on your guard when entering into a lease or sale. This is even more so the case in these straitened times.

One can never be too careful on such matters, especially as a foreigner who may be out of his/her comfort zone and ripe for the picking. Caveat emptor indeed. 
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Beware of the (Dominic) Wolf warrior, Cancillería

Listen to an audio version of this blog entry here.

And so it continues. The grave injustices perpetrated by the Colombian state show no signs of abating. Those who were thinking that the pandemic would result in a fairer country, think again.

Dominic Wolf: More Colombian than the Colombians? (From Dominic's Facebook page.)

Each time it seems as if we've had a watershed moment, we're met with news of a new low but on the same trajectory.

A wolf in sheep's clothing
The killing of unarmed civilians by police is one thing, but the country's Foreign Affairs Office, La Cancillería, failing to give residency to Dominic Wolf, a 26-year-old German-Russian who has managed to sell the many great things Colombia has to offer back to Colombians, that's an absolute travesty. Something must be done, and quickly.

Never mind the fact that his application for residency was deemed inadmissible for valid reasons — if you don't do the time and all that. They're silly requirements anyway. Dominic's a German-Russian for goodness sake, he's above these trivial things. '¡Qué vergüenza!' for Colombia to even consider subjecting him to such conditions. 

Let's not focus, either, on the fact that he erroneously thinks he is the only one who has been singled out for harsh treatment by the big bad boys at La Cancillería. 

For the record, Dominic, not every foreigner who is granted an M visa gets it for the maximum permitted time of three years. The first M visa I got, after having had four consecutive TP 7 visas under the old system, was for one year. The second, two years. Anecdotally, it would seem getting a three-year M visa is the exception, not the rule.

'Should Dominic get his way, the door will fling open to the rest of us with even greater grounds for unfair treatment, to the point of it possibly being unconstitutional, to take on Colombian officialdom.'

Also, as Dominic pleads for 'fair treatment', we shouldn't say too much about the change.org campaign launched following his public protestations via his YouTube channel, recorded thousands of miles away from the country he loves dearly (that's Colombia by the way, in case you haven't picked up on that). 

Sure don't all of us currently struggling to get visas or residency here have recourse to such tools? Dominic's just our trailblazer. What a champ.

Due to the consternation his case has caused here, there's every chance La Cancillería will do an about-turn and grant him at least residency. There's a precedent to this. Another influencer who has been pulling the wool over the eyes of many gullible Colombians, US native Zach Morris, was given citizenship a couple of years back after experiencing a similar episode to Dominic's.

The initial response from La Cancillería has been to stand firm, reminding Dominic that he can apply for another visa, that it is just his request for residency that has been deemed inadmissible. The visa office might just find, however, that the less stressful solution is to give in to public pressure.

Should Dominic get his way, the door will fling open to the rest of us with even greater grounds for unfair treatment, to the point of it possibly being unconstitutional, to take on Colombian officialdom.

At least we can rely on Dominic to fight our corner, the justice warrior that he is. Mayor of Bucaramanga in 2024 perhaps? Why not? Nobody knows Colombia better than he does. It's why he's not even here right now, he doesn't need to be.
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No and behold

[Listen to an audio blog of this entry here.]
'Say "yes" and think of a way to do it after.' That was the advice of an Israeli acquaintance a few years back as doubts about my suitability held me back from committing to a project on which I'd been asked to collaborate.

A rare 'no' in Colombia. Do they mean it?

Years later, I can't even remember what the work was and whether I got involved or not — it clearly wasn't that life-changing — but it was the advice from my friend that stuck.

Know your limits
You see, at times I have — or certainly had, in any case — this tendency to think about all that could go wrong, to focus on my unsuitability for new tasks, rather than look to my existing skill set and see how I could adapt it to meet new challenges.

Other, perhaps even less-qualified people would just jump in without hesitation.

Both approaches do have their downsides. It is prudent to give some proper thought before committing. Yet the overly defensive, negative if you will, reaction is probably, in the majority of cases, the most damaging for the responder. Nothing ventured and all that.

Of course, there are times when you just know that what's on offer isn't for you. It might be a case that it's not the right time — 'not now, but not never' — or you're simply not interested. 

In these instances, a swift 'no' is the best course of action. All parties involved can then move on with no harm done (as long as, to paraphrase Don Corleone in The Godfather, the other's interests don't conflict with yours).

Saying no, however, appears to be a very hard word for many to utter (eh, sorry Sir Elton, but I wager it's even harder to say than 'sorry'!).

'The Dutch generally have no problem in giving a blunt "no" when needs be.'

Now, the natural course to take here for a foreigner living in Colombia is to highlight that the inability to say no is particularly acute in these parts. That might be so — I've frustratingly experienced it many times over — but I'm not sure if folk in my home country, Ireland, are much better on this, to name just one other nationality.

As I've written about oft-times before, I do notice some cultural similarities between Colombia and Ireland. Perhaps we can add to this the practice of saying yes when we really mean no. (In fairness, my own "weakness" on this is being non-committal, giving neither a yes nor a no.)

Yes means no
Others, such as the Dutch, generally have no problem in giving a blunt no when needs be. For those of us used to a more softly-softly approach, hearing such a response might seem rude. 

For the most part, however, it's the best way forward, clear and unequivocal. What's more, it doesn't need to be followed up by a raft of excuses or mitigating factors. As the old drug slogan went, 'just say no'. Full stop.

I must mention another aspect to this equivocalness: when somebody wants to keep all options open. It's understandable. 

Again, though, it's best to be upfront with those awaiting a response. For example, 'I can't commit right now, but in a month's time I may be in a position to do it.' At least it gives some clarity.

This is where Colombians — yes, I am generalising — tend to score badly. Many will give what seems like a definitive yes when their subsequent actions clearly show that this wasn't exactly what they had in mind. Time, energy and, at times, money is wasted in finally reaching this conclusion.

That Colombian yes is quite distinct from my Israeli friend's suggestion. His referred to a situation where there was an interest and an honest intention to do something, it just came with some doubts and fears. A case of 'give it a lash and see how it goes'.

If that's not where your mind is at, it's best to give a Dutch no — qualified if needs be — allowing us to get on with our respective businesses with little harm done or time wasted.
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