To catch you up, in case all the details of tangocherie's struggle for legality have slipped your mind, after seven years of trying, I finally received my first DNI (I.D. card) last June, two months ago. It expires this month.
Yesterday Ruben and I went back to Migraciones to ask what to do. We took a number from the machine, #457, and took seats, well I did, as there was only one. They called #31. I saw Ruben in the middle of a tightly pressed group crowded around someone too short to be seen at the side of the room, everyone waving their arms. I read my book. Then a lady in front of me vomited and fainted dead away. Security rushed over with a drink of water, a doctor came, and her tramite was hand-carried to her, who by now thankfully had recovered. The atmosphere in there was terrible; I completely understand anyone being overcome by the crowds, overheating, screaming babies.
We finally were called, got the information that I had to re-collect new editions of the many official papers that I already had--police report, bank statements, photos, certificado de domicilio--and $600 pesos to apply for the renewal next week. As in any government red-tape in any country, it's all about ways to collect fees. Woe to me if I apply after the expiration date.
If you watch this video you'll know exactly how I felt.
Off we went on a Mr Toad's Wild Ride to smog-filled Calle Tucuman where there was no parking. I had forgotten my inhaler, and I begged to forget it for today. (I was tempted to say forget it forever!!) But Ruben was doing his best, and that's the way it is in the Paris of South America. (At least the ride didn't end in Hell like Mr Toad's!) Stay tuned.