Who would have thought that getting a passport renewed would prove to be an adventure. It started out so innocently. We were in Guatemala City picking up Cindy's parents and needed to renew Cynthia's passport.
Up early for a continental breakfast and then the 5 block walk to the US Embassy. Getting past all the Guatemaltecos to the gate was the first hurdle. The second was security. No one spoke English. The first thing security did was take Cindy's purse and two officers began their search. After removing her translator, cellphone, and workman tool ( OK that did have a knife ) they let us thru to American Services. There was not another Gringo in sight! Get the papers and then back out the Embassy and down the street to get photos taken. Oh, and yes a quick call to the marina to have Debi go on our boat and get Cynthia's social security number. Mission accomplished...photos and social security in hand we once again pass to security. Again the purse is searched. Only this time 3 officers are searching. They remove the translator, cellphone, the workman tool and yes 2 count them 2 pairs of tweezers.
Up to the window in American Services. Yes, you have everything you need. Now go around the corner and pay and then come back here to wait and we will call you. Paid and in our seats we notice that the windows are now closed. Yes, it is lunch time! Did I mention that Michael is ill and getting very nauseated. So Cindy goes to the window and knocks. The woman mouths, "we are closed" I explain that my husband is about to lose his cookies all over the waiting room and do you really need both of us. She asks the Consulate and yes indeed both of us are required as Cynthia is only 11 years old. She hopes to get to us in 5 minutes. 20 minutes later we have the receipt in hand and are now making our way back to the hotel. Michael makes it to our room and collapses.
What a drill! But we did it and Cynthia can now leave the country!
Now we are in the dry season on the river with visiting parents and it is raining every day. Not talking about a little rain, we are talking gully washers. Oh well there is always Mah Jongg to be played.
Up early for a continental breakfast and then the 5 block walk to the US Embassy. Getting past all the Guatemaltecos to the gate was the first hurdle. The second was security. No one spoke English. The first thing security did was take Cindy's purse and two officers began their search. After removing her translator, cellphone, and workman tool ( OK that did have a knife ) they let us thru to American Services. There was not another Gringo in sight! Get the papers and then back out the Embassy and down the street to get photos taken. Oh, and yes a quick call to the marina to have Debi go on our boat and get Cynthia's social security number. Mission accomplished...photos and social security in hand we once again pass to security. Again the purse is searched. Only this time 3 officers are searching. They remove the translator, cellphone, the workman tool and yes 2 count them 2 pairs of tweezers.
Up to the window in American Services. Yes, you have everything you need. Now go around the corner and pay and then come back here to wait and we will call you. Paid and in our seats we notice that the windows are now closed. Yes, it is lunch time! Did I mention that Michael is ill and getting very nauseated. So Cindy goes to the window and knocks. The woman mouths, "we are closed" I explain that my husband is about to lose his cookies all over the waiting room and do you really need both of us. She asks the Consulate and yes indeed both of us are required as Cynthia is only 11 years old. She hopes to get to us in 5 minutes. 20 minutes later we have the receipt in hand and are now making our way back to the hotel. Michael makes it to our room and collapses.
What a drill! But we did it and Cynthia can now leave the country!
Now we are in the dry season on the river with visiting parents and it is raining every day. Not talking about a little rain, we are talking gully washers. Oh well there is always Mah Jongg to be played.
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