EL DIA DE LOS BANCOS

After a colonoscopy, my next least favorite procedure is talking to bank functionaries. Today we started the process of trying to open a bank account here. When you open an account, you give the bank your money, right? They do things with it to make more money for themselves, right?

Bank #1: We have to show passports, deposit a minimum of $1,000, prove we have a domicile, and produce an FM-3 (visitante rentista document which replaces our visitors' visas). We wanted to open an account before applying for the FM-3, but this bank said no.

Bank #2: Same deal except a $6,000 minimum to avoid fees. As we're getting all the same answers to our questions about how to prove we have a domicile (by showing gas, electric, phone bills, which we won't have for at least a month after we move into our casita), an imposing-looking jefe type comes to the desk at which the young funccionaria is giving us a hard time and announces, "all you need is passports [no FM-3] and proof of domicile." Does our lease, which we have in hand, prove that we have a domicile? Yes, he says. No need for the utility bills. I looked at him, looked at her, and asked, "Cómo se llama Ud.? What is your name?"

"Ivan, Ivan Mesa." I wrote it down. May you all have an Ivan Mesa in your life, and may he still be there when we go back with our passports and rental contract.