After having settled down more or less in Cholula I happened to pick up one of our Mexican visas and read the fine print on the inside cover. To my horror it said that we needed to register with the Department of Immigration within 30 days of arriving in Mexico, it had been over two months since we had arrived. The cover letter that we received with our visas from the Mexican Consulate in Vacouver said only to "enjoy our stay". I checked with the immigration person at the University to see if I had read it right. I had, and we would all have to travel to Mexico City. We got the necessary forms and filled them out prior to our departure, though they would have to be "officially" typed at the office.
We did not yet own a car so we travelled by bus early in the morning from our appartment to the CAPU (Central de Autobuses de Puebla). Three different bus lines have busses that leave for Mexico City every 10 minutes and numerous others for other destinations. Bus stations are teaming with people coming and going and said to be full of thieves. Mexico City has four such stations, one for each cardinal direction of the compass. It took about 4 hours in all to get to the Immigration building and we needed to be there as close to 9:00 AM as possible as the office closed at 1:00 PM.
We arrived in Mexico City on schedule only to find ourselves in rush hour at the Metro. Wendy and I had to split the children between us and take separate trains to our destination. In hind sight it probably would have been worth the money to take a taxi but at the time I looked at it as being an even more dangerous way of travel. Canadian social myths had tourists being robbed by Mexican taxi drivers plus we would have had to battle our way through traffic and probably have arrived late.
We spent over three hours in the Immigration Office while they fussed over our paperwork and deciding how big a fine we would have to pay for registering late. They decided that $100.00 Canadian was sufficient. Part of the process was to have mug shots taken: No glasses, hair had to be slicked back. We went outside of the office to a "recommended" studio in the basement of what looked like a bombed-out building. It was probably one damaged by the 1985 earthquake. The photos were so bad that for a while it looked like the immigration officials weren't going to accept them. But it was already after closing time and the the lady looking after us must have took pity on our very bored and sobbing children.
Levi was especially upset about having to get his hair wet in the photo episode as can be seen in his mug shots. This would be our introduction to officialdom in Mexico. A photo of a certain size is needed for everything, you never know exactly what else is needed until you get there: the procedure seems to be arbitrarily decided by the person you are dealing with. I would spend what seemed an eternity in this same office each year negotiating to renew our visas.
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updated April 21, 1999