I don't think Colombia wants me to stay. That's the impression I am getting just now, as I sit in the DAS office on Calle 100 in Bogotá, waiting for my application for a VISA extension to be processes. They told me it would only take 40 minutes when they took my passport, three hours ago.
My belly thinks my throat has been cut. It was just before lunchtime when I arrived, and at this rate, it will be just after dinner time by the time I leave. My stomach is already rumbling and there is still no sign of me being told I am allowed to stay longer in the country. Perhaps the Colombian immigration officials don't want Scottish people in their country. That seems to be the only explanation as they have already processed several people that came into the DAS office after me.
Do they not realise that all the Russians that they just gave visa extensions to are probably only here to start a Mafia. Do they not realise that the mixed-race family that they just processed are actually Mexican, and are probably only here to shoot someone from a rival drug gang? Do they not realise that the Guatemalan looking couple are probably selling hand-made braid bracelets on the streets of Zona Rosa, and not declaring any taxable income? Do they not realise that the loud Gringo that speaks no Spanish and likes the sound of his own voice a lot more than I do, is actually American and should therefore be deported immediately. Do they not realise I have been waiting for more than three hours, and am Hank Marvin starving? Can the bored looking officials that are sitting behind their counters drinking coffee not just fast-track me through their shitty bureaucratic process, stamp whatever needs to be stamped, tick whatever needs to be ticked, and tell me I can stay in Colombia so I can go out and have some lunch?
Footnote: After four and half hours of waiting, they finally took my photo and fingerprints, gave me my passport back, and told me I can stay in Colombia until 31.12.2010. Lovely.
