Costa Rican Driver's License

So, last week, I decided to tag along with three friends (Jeni, Eric, and Jeana), who were headed to San Jose (the City) to take on one of the most difficult feats here in Costa Rica... obtaining a legal local driver's license.  When it comes down to it, there really isn't much at all... if you have a valid driver's license from the states and a passport with an up-to-date stamp, they give you a driver's license.  It's JUST THAT EASY.  But is it?

Adam, another friend, traveled TWICE to San Jose, returning with nothing.  By the way, San Jose is a 2.5 hour drive, which isn't much, except very few of us have cars that can make it that far, and so we're generally going at someone else's leisure, or we're taking the bus.  And the bus doesn't take 2.5 hours.  If it shows, it generally takes, well, more.  So, on his third and final try, Adam finally returned with a license.  (Of course it was his final... why would he return AFTER receiving his license?) (Actually, there might be good reason.  I'll explain later.)

So, what is it about getting the license that is so difficult?  In the states, it may take 30 minutes if you have to wait at that place on Classen where nobody seems to know who's next, or even next for what.  But for the most part, it's easy... go, show ID, get a picture, pay $10, get a license.  Well, here's the skinny...

FIRST, and it's hard to know that this is first without taking a poll and going with the majority, you must go to the doctor.  And AT the doctor's office, you have to pay money.  10 THOUSAND colones (only $20, but still).  Then you go and sit next to a doctor, who asks you if you can use both your arms, and if you're an alcoholic, your sexual preference (not true), and if you can see.  He believes you for the most part, except for the vision thing, which he requires you to read line seven on the chart across the room (FTLGMZ).  If you can, you pass.  EXCEPT, he needs to know your blood type, and they DON'T just take your word for it.  You have to go to the "laboratory", right next door, where you pay 5 THOUSAND more colones, a person take some blood, puts it in a vial, right next to everyone else's blood that was there before you, and tells you to wait.  So you do.  Eventually he comes out with a very serious looking half sheet of white paper that says on one side a letter, and on the other a mathematical symbol that modifies that letter.  Only after returning this magical paper to the doctor who preformed his thorough evaluation to ensure you were safe to drive a motorized vehicle, does the doctor give you an official looking white piece of paper with his SIGNATURE on it, verifying that he, as a professional, believes you should be given a license to drive in this fair country.  

But why the blood test?  As it turns out, they put it on your license.  Right next to where they show whether or not you are an organ donor.  In case you haven't visited Costa and experienced the magnificent driving styles of locals and tourists alike, there is damn good reason to put these in bold red right next to your name, which seems unimportant, really.  (Did you know magnificent was spelled with an "e" towards the end and not an "a"?  Huh.)

So, to avoid making this blog take longer to read or write than it takes to get a driver's license here, I'll make it quick.  After you have your medical slip, you take it and your passport, your driver's license, and a COPY of your passport and of your driver's license (if you don't have the copy, I kid you not, they shoot you) to a magical fortress called Cosevi, which is right next door to many doctor's offices.  You talk to the guard, who tells you to skip the line at the door at the back of the facility, go straight to the guard at that door, tell him you need to see Dona Forget-Her-Name, who is on the second floor.  I'm really not kidding about this.  If you don't talk to that guard, you will waste a lot of time.  You must go see Dona Forget-Her-Name first.  Oh!  And she only works until noon.  Seriously.  So, you go to the second guard, and he pretends he has no idea what you are talking about.  Actually, he probably doesn't.  So you ignore him, walk through, and go the second floor, where you sit in a chair.  And wait.  You're not sure if you should be waiting.  But you do.  And you wait.  Finally, Dona FHN comes out of an office, after a couple of men have already checked to make sure you have your copies and your health certificate and what-not, and she says "Pase!"  Which means enter.  So you do.  She doesn't say anything, just looks at it, signs your copies, puts some squiggly lines, and motions for you to leave.  

You then go back to guard 2, who gives you a "ficha" (not sure what those little papers with numbers are called in the states), and then you wait.  My number was three, and they were on number 51, and it takes a long time to go from number 51 to number 3.  So, when your number comes up, you go to a guy (or girl), who asks you where you live (and he trusts you), and he enters in all your paperwork, and gives you another very small white piece of paper that you must then take all the way to the BANK where you must pay 4 THOUSAND colones, and then return, snake the line, return to the SAME guy who gave you the slip of paper, wait for him to finish with whoever he might be dealing with at the time, quickly slip in, give him the receipt that proves you paid, get your picture taken, and get your license.  Of course, that's if you're lucky.  By the time I got back from the bank, my little guy was gone.  Perhaps to lunch.  So I had to snake some other guy, who couldn't find my records, and sent me to some other girl, who also could not find my records, and so made them up (without my medical sheet), and gave me a license with no organ donor information AND no blood type.  Which brings us to the reason why you MIGHT go back even after receiving a license.  But I won't.  Cause, honestly, I'm pretty sure they don't bother with that information anyway.  

But, now I got my license.  And WHY, you may ask?  Why pay, in the end, 19 THOUSAND colones, when my Oklahoma license is perfectly valid as long as my passport stamp is up to date?  Well, I could argue that it's better when the cops pull you over (which they do, at random stops, all the time).  But that's not really why.  I could say I didn't like my OK license picture, which is true.  But not really a good enough reason.  It's because it's cool.  I have a Costa Rican driver's license.  And I think that's pretty neat.  

Maybe I need a hobby.