I’ve had a few beers and decided to write a blog post because why not? It’s nine thirty and Cesia’s sleeping. She’s feeling ill and has been in bed for two hours, poor thing. She kept trying to clean up after dinner, or put clothes away. I had to wrestle her in to bed.
We’ve been married for about six weeks now. I’ve been an illegal immigrant for two days. My tourist visa expired two days ago, when I hit my six-month mark, and the local government people have yet to return my papers, making me legal.
As it stands, even though we are married, we technically can’t live together. For Cesia and I to live together in England I would need a huge amount of money in my account to support her as a dependent immigrant or something. I think it’s £85,000, which, for those of you who are unfamiliar with the conversion rate, is more money than I will ever see. They might as well ask me to make a deposit of my beating heart.
In Mexico, I can be here for six months before I either have to leave the country for a few days, or get my immigration status changed. We opted for the latter, but may not have given ourselves enough time. I’m currently living in Limbo, not sure whether I’m here legally or not.
A few days ago, an app on my phone told me I could check in to my flight back to England. I had bought a return ticket before I came here, and it felt weird to ignore that notification. There were hundreds of pounds that would fly away in that empty seat, money we need, that we can’t get back. And it just feels weird knowing that some member of staff, somewhere, is going to be looking for you, to see if you’re coming. It was like ignoring a Tamagotchi.
Cesia worked from home today, taking pain killers when she needed them, and eating oranges for vitamin C. I worked for an hour and a half today. My morning class was cancelled, my lunchtime class held, and I was on standby for another class, but I wasn’t needed.
I don’t know the technical term for what my immigration status will be. I won’t be a resident. I won’t be a citizen. I’ll be an FF112M or something. And I want to be. It means I can find a legal job and open a bank account. It means, with my shiny new bank account, I can buy Cesia flowers, instead of us buying them together. I can get her a gift, or treat her to dinner, instead of us paying for it together, which is really her paying 70% of it.
So, if any Mexican officials are reading this, then to you I say Hola, quiero estar un Mexicano. Puede ayudarme, por favor?