Utila – Week 7, Day 6: The Illegal Immigrant
UTILA
Week 7
Day 6: The Illegal Immigrant
December 30, 2022
PART I
I woke up pumped and ready for a productive morning, wanting to run some errands and sort some stuff out before leaving Utila. I cut my hair, bought some medical supplies, and then made my way to the shuttle service to confirm my booking for the following week.
Jessica, the attendant I was now on first-name terms with – mainly because she’d changed my tickets twice – told me she didn’t think the day I’d leave would ever come. After saying that, a lightbulb went off in her head. “Did you stay for longer than ninety days?” she asked. I panicked for a second, then sighed with relief after realising it had only been around two months. “Two months in Honduras or C4?” she asked again. I had no idea what the hell she was referring to. “C4 – you know: Honduras, Guatemala, El Salvador and Nicaragua. The ninety-day visa applies to all those countries.”
My eyes nearly popped out of their sockets at this point as I stood there in pure disbelief, unable to understand how I’d never heard of such a thing. I checked my Guatemala itinerary (my first stop in the C4) and did the math real quick. Ninety-two days. Ninety-friggin’-two days. I had elapsed my visa by two measly days and I was now officially an illegal immigrant.
My head started spinning. I’ve always been one of the most organised people I know. I have spreadsheets for every single aspect of my life and use at least three calendars to make sure nothing falls through the cracks. The worst part is that I had done my research before travelling here – yet somehow, this tiny detail did fall through the cracks. And because of that, I was suddenly an illegal immigrant.
Between my neurotic noises and grunts, Jessica kindly let me know that since my visa had elapsed, I’d have to pay a $200 fine and that I wouldn’t be allowed to enter Nicaragua. She also added that without applying for an extension, if I tried to cross the border I wouldn’t be allowed into Nicaragua and I wouldn’t be allowed back into Honduras either. The way she explained it made it sound like I’d be stuck at the border for the rest of my life if I did just that.
I wanted to just die right there. She told me the only real option was to fly out of the C4 zone and then come back to re-extend my visa – a process called a visa run. She said it like it was no big deal, like I wouldn’t have to splurge big-time on two-way flight tickets or worry that it would screw up my itinerary completely. She gave me the same look I give a dying patient’s relative and told me to go to the immigration office to sort it out as soon as possible.
A Criminal and a Lawyer
I needed some clarity. We had only a couple of days left in Utila and I damn well didn’t wanna spend them flying around the continent just to renew my visa. Talk about the crappiest of timing!
I made my way back to Underwater Vision and, luckily, found Rachel – the nicest person you could ever meet and a lawyer! She’d helped Omar out of a similar sticky situation – something, as it so happens, that’s pretty common in Utila, since paying the fine is often cheaper than a visa run. She told me to go to the immigration office and look out for this guy she knew, at which point I could call her and she’d join me. If, instead, I’d encounter a lady at the desk, she warned me to just flee and count my blessings. Turns out, while the guy is super nice and always tries to help out, the woman is a sassy, unhelpful hag who thrives on peoples’ suffering. The problem was they worked on a fifteen-day rotation, so it’d be purely down to luck.
With that in mind, I rushed to the immigration office, Miguel giving me a lift on his motorbike. As soon as I got there, my eyes lit up – there a the guy at the desk. I texted Rachel straight away, and, having forgotten my passport, had Amelia bring it to her before she left. At this point I felt like Underwater Vision’s very own charity case – everyone pitching in to help the remorseful criminal. The second I saw Rachel climbing the stairs I felt relief unlike any other – she looked like a fairy godmother, ready to grant me anything I’d ever want.
She told me she only had an hour before she had to head back, and the line before me looked endless. I prayed for it to move quickly, but, much to my dismay, that only seemed to slow things down even more. I was dying on the inside (and a bit on the outside) – my body tremulous and my eyes twitching from stress.
Rachel, being the amazing person she is, noticed that and quickly changed the subject to distract me. She told me how she’d fallen for Carlos – a local who flirts with anything that has two legs and moves (and who’d managed to swoop in and steal the girl I’d been flirting with at least three times). I warned her to be careful, having heard about the sleazy stuff he gets up to. She said she wasn’t too attached, that they weren’t exclusive, and that when he was with someone else it hurt though she understood the situation (even though she felt committed to him).
As we were chatting, she spotted him wakeboarding a few hundred metres away – her eyes dilated, her cheeks rosy, her brain in the clouds. Needless to say, I chastised her using one of my favourite lines from Grey’s Anatomy.
C4 Madness
As fate would have it, by the time I was next in line, it was time for Rachel to go back to Underwater Vision and run a course. Even though she couldn’t help in the office, I appreciated her presence – the emotional support was exactly what I needed. I hugged her tight, took a deep breath, recomposed myself as best I could, and walked into the office.
With tears in my eyes, I explained to the immigration officer that even though ignorance of the law is not an excuse, I genuinely hadn’t known about the C4 rule and that I’m usually an upright citizen. I asked right away if this would go on my criminal record – something that would probably ruin my career. He told me it wasn’t a big deal and that it happens all the time – I wasn’t the first and I certainly wouldn’t be the last. He said I’d have to pay a fine, and that there was a possibility for me to extend my visa right there and then.
The problem was it might not be accepted until the following Monday – in three days’ time – with New Year’s Day and a Sunday smack right in the middle. In that case, he said, I’d probably get away with showing immigration officers at the Nicaraguan border the receipt for my extension payment. I wasn’t fully convinced – mostly cause neither Jessica nor Rachel hadn’t mentioned any form of extension – but at least I could see a light at the end of the prison I’d imagined myself in.
He gave me a paper listing everything I’d need to do. I’d have to go to a stationery shop and find Moises, who would print the forms for the fine payment and the extension. With those forms, I’d have to go to the bank and pay the hefty $200 sum, then return to him with the invoice in order to apply for the extension.
It took me a couple of hours, but at the end I managed to sort everything out and felt some relief. When I returned to Underwater Vision, Rachel seemed quite baffled they’d let me pay for my extension – given that it is usually applied for before the visa expires, and that late applications are almost inevitably rejected. She added that if it were indeed rejected, Nicaraguan immigration officers might give me five days to enter and exit Nicaragua – which would totally mess with my itinerary, not to mention that I’d have to part ways with Amelia way before our planned farewell.
But fret not – Rachel to the rescue once again! Turns out, a lot of people overstay and then pay another fine on exiting Nicaragua – usually some $2 per day. That said, she warned me, border control laws tend to be arbitrary and random, depending on the immigration officers. With that, I decided to give up on stressing myself out and decided to leave it up to fate and figure it out at the border.
PART II
Plans in Ruins
As if my mood wasn’t already at rock bottom, the second I got to my dorm to rest and forget about the day’s happenings, I opened my email to find out that my carefully laid out plans for my upcoming destinations were in tatters.
Usually, I simply love planning and figuring out logistical nightmares that would drive any travel agent nuts. Seeing things falling into place fills me with this kind of deep satisfaction unlike anything else – especially when I get to do everything I want even when it seems impossible. This time round however, it seemed like I wouldn’t be able to do just that. I’d be going to some places without being able to visit all the main highlights – kinda like going to Rome and not visiting the Colosseum. With my worsening depression, I decided to spend the rest of my day wallowing in bed, refusing to go out.
Contrary to my expectations, that didn’t last long. Amelia and Dr Marius dragged me out of bed forcefully, refusing to let me give into the blackhole that was now my best friend. “Food will make you feel better!” they insisted. Just then, I felt so incredibly grateful to have stumbled upon these two random people on this random trip who cared so much about me. In the span of a couple of months, they had become family – people I would forever treasure and cherish.
Three Minutes of Regret
We went to Mango Tango – one of the fanciest restaurants in Utila. I do have to admit the food was good for my soul – my mouth drooling over the lionfish fillet and sushi, and my heart full of love and warmth, surrounded by two incredible people I’d grown to love.
That said, friendship can only get you so far. Fuelled by all the stress and anxiety that had piled on during the day, I found myself chatting with a guy on Tinder. Ever since I had arrived in Utila, my sex drive seemed to be at an all-time low, but now I felt like I needed some release. And so, after dinner I decided to meet up with Kane – a divemaster from the States who had just arrived on the island.
I rode a tuk-tuk to his place, got lost in the middle of nowhere, and somehow stumbled upon his house. When he came out to greet me, I just stood there – still, unmoving, speechless. He looked nothing like his photos: an unshaven slob with a stained white tee, some 45 kilograms heavier, and the hairiest chest I’ve ever seen (probably karma for making so much fun of Amelia and her phobia of chest hair). Oh, and let’s not forget the stench of alcohol and weed. In fact, “I’m so stoned…” was literally the first thing he said to me – his eyes rolling backwards as he stumbled forward for a hug which I skilfully evaded.
But, as I figured, I had gotten a tuk-tuk, I was there, and I needed to blow off some steam – badly. I shrugged and just went with it. It couldn’t be that bad, right? Wrong. It lasted some three minutes, and let’s just say it wasn’t from my end. All happy and satisfied, he asked me to spend the night, at which point I immediately ran out the door, stating I’d have to wake up super early for the morning boat the following day.
My twenty-minute walk of shame back to Underwater Vision featured some really sketchy dark roads, a Demi Lovato album, and me stumbling upon Eli, with whom I had a full-on nervous breakdown about one of my worst days here in Utila – and possibly the worst experience in my entire life, second only to when I dropped the tank (or the weight belt, or the reel). The poor guy!
Stay wild,
Marius
Post-Scriptum
As bad as my day had been, Amelia lost her third hairbrush. To this day, I have no idea how she manages to do it. I swear, she’s the most forgetful person I’ve ever met. We joke about her having early-onset Alzheimer’s, but at this rate, I’m starting to actually believe it!