casacollins

I started this blog 5 weeks ago and have been meaning to finish it. Finally, it's done. Hope you enjoy it.This first photo is of the famous Costa del Sol. We drove through there on our way back from being shut out of Gibraltar because of our visas. We had a fun weekend planned on the Rock, but alas it wasn't meant to be so we made the best of it by driving along the coast, stopping at an ice cream kiosk and a teleferico (gondola).

In the meantime, the saga of the visas continues...Here's the abbreviated version of the unfolding (present tense) drama: We were told it would take 6 weeks to get our visas approved. That is IF they are approved. After 6 MONTHS of hand-wringing and considering various scenarios of different levels of illegal alien-ness and possible legal consequences we were told that they had been approved. I (Mary) headed to Chicago to pick them up. The guy, Angel (ironic), behind the 3" thick security window at the consulate gives me a hard time trying to tell me (in a very insensitive way considering his name and what we've been through to this point to get the darn visas) that I canNOT pick Mark's visa up and that he has to come himself. (Minor setback, don't get discouraged.) I'm thinking, "We've only banked our whole year on Mark's project, job, etc. Mark is all the way in Spain, Angel. He CAN't pick his up. It costs a ton to fly here and even more to park near Michigan Avenue. What the heck? I have emailed with the Consulate General (Pepe) so please let me have his VISA!" Angel is thinking, " Momentito, Maria. I have the power now, chica. Let's see your stamina. Can you say that in Spanish?" I'm thinking, "Don't mess with me, hombre. My dermatologist is friends with THE consulate general. He and I can talk about moles (on your skin), zits, and fungus together. Besides he told me the name of a gal working on our file. You want to play hardball, okay, how about some name dropping?... Whew, I'm in." I meet the Consulate General and chat a bit. Really nice guy. Former embassador for Spain to Saudi Arabia and United Arab Emirates and somewhere else. Very diplomatic to say the least. He apologized for the ridiculously lengthy process. I chose NOT to complain at this time, but to graciously accept the situation now that I actually had all 5 passports newly adorned with our official permission slips to stay in Spain for the year. Then I'm gone. Thank God. I say "Hasta luego and nice to meet you (in Spanish)" to Angel on may way out of his power station for the last time. Finally!!! I carry the precious documents ever so carefully back to Granada.

What a relief. We can finally travel freely within the EU and back to the US if necessary! Yay! We can update our legal papers for our car, the school, etc. We can stay in Spain!!! We don't have to worry any more.

Not so fast.

Upon trying to get into Gibraltar (UK territory) we met Angel's double--this time a border policeman with a little more charm, but the same, "Wait a minute" m.o. We were told by this agent that if we left we wouldn't be allowed back into Spain. "WHAT," I'm thinking, "you can't be serious. The kids want to see the monkeys in Gibraltar. We were planning an afternoon of people watching and shopping in English. Besides all that, my dermatologist...Not worth the risk. This guy isn't gonna be any help. This is the much politicized border of Spain and Gibraltar. A pain in the neck for travelers, bigger pain for border patrol. Better to go--as frustrated and righteous as we are feeling at this moment--back to the drawing board. Back to emailing the Consulate General. Back to the police station in Granada. Back to the BACK of the "Immigrantes" line that takes 2 hours to do anything. So after more emails with our favorite bureaucrat (really-he was fabulous), several MORE hours in line at the dreary police station, three trips to the photo copy shop, and only one mention of the Consulate General, we finally got our Foreigners I.D. numbers! The kids even got fingerprinted. We were so excited(again), relieved(again) and exhausted(again) with the whole thing, but we were FINALLY (again) done with the process. Then, the lady in window number 7 said they will be ready for us in 3 MONTHS!!!! What???????? Yeah, we'll be sure to pick them up on our way to the airport in June.

Anyway, she was wrong (go figure). They called the next day and said they'd be ready at the end of March. So we finally have them (temporary resident id cards that are what are given to you once you show the police your visa and 8 kgs. of paperwork) and are thrilled. We'll get the permanent ones soon, so they say.




This is us up on an oceanside mountain where we rode a teleferico up and up for a great look at the coast. Very touristy and very fun. Not like Gibrlatar, I bet, but exciting just the same. We passed a lot of foreigners on the mountain trail to the top. The guy who took this picture was from Ireland.

The guy who took the next photo is from Evanston, conspicuously absent from the family photo. We were proud to have our visas even if nobody else valued them. If only we had realized that the resident cards were the ones to go for. That's the rock of Gibraltar behind us. I guess everybody wants to own it. The Brits want it, the Spaniards want it. The Gibraltarians are a unique bunch (so we've heard) that speak English and are basically English, but live in southern Spain on their rock. They don't want to become part of Spain and I think that makes the border patrol a little grouchy.

(Oops. I can't undo the font. Bear with me.) The eagle photo was coincidentally taken on our way back from Gibraltar at this aviary on the top of the teleferico ride. It is our tribute to America and the freedom we have being Americans--in America. We have definitely had some experience being foreigners with limited language and understanding of how things work. Can't imagine the frustration immigrants have in the U.S. trying to navigate Cook County or any other governmental body there. At least here they don't give you 40 pounds of papers filled with legalease and jibberish in order to get permission to do anything. Instead they require you to provide them with teh 40 pounds of documentation.This last picture is of Gibraltar. With some imagination you can see Africa (Morroco)--I think, off to the left. Now that I look at it, that may be Spain still. Anyway, you could see it on a clear day from the rock, we've been told. Hundreds of people illegally cross that strait every year from Africa seeking a better life in Spain. Notice I didn't say Gibraltar. No way they're getting in there. Not before us.