"Está en Trámite"

A word on bureaucracy here in old Mexico: Lilla and I discussed earlier today why there are so many rules and regulations here, but we didn’t really come to a consensus. Lilla thinks that there is a structural similarity between all third world countries where the (bloated) bureaucracy is not really about serving the consumer/citizen but more about creating service jobs and handing out patronage. Certainly, no one in either Romania or Mexico goes out of there way to make things easier for the poor fellow trapped in the middle of all that paperwork. I have theories. For instance, in Mexico (less so even than other Latin American countries) the military, in the nineteenth century at least, was the most effective mode of organizing society and has a lasting impact. I'm sure this is wrong and a stupid theory. But, at the gym it certainly seems there is a self-appointed caudillo running the place. The signs now say, “don’t use the machines if you weight more than 90kg,” “pick up a pass for the caminadora at the front desk.” Meanwhile, employees roam the gym asking for your pass and estimating your weight.

Everywhere there is paperwork, and rules and regulations that must be followed in order to move forward—or (as the guards say) “adelantar.” Today I registered at the hemeroteca at UNAM—and I followed the instructions to a tee; I brought a stamped letter of invitation from an institution on a “membrete,” an application, an application fee, a copy of my lease, two fotos de tamaño infantil, and a copy of my identidad vigente. Turns out I also needed a utility bill with my landlady’s name on it. Perhaps tomorrow if I take that last item I can at last look at newspapers (what is often refered to here in Mexico as “the patrimony”) from a hundred years ago on microfilm. I am affiliated at a highly-esteemed college here as well, but my paperwork is still going through—a month later. They say that the paperwork “está en trámite.” I think I have to turn in a project description now—and who knows what they ask for next. Meanwhile at the Archive of the Nation I have to use gloves and a surgical mask to touch the patrimony. Further, every time I see a security guard with a button-down guerrera at the archive on I have to show h/er the serial number on my computer. To make things easier, I just copied the number down on a sticker and affixed it to the back of my computer. That seems to work for some reason. But every batch of photocopies I carry away from the archives has to have at least three official stamps on it. The rubber stamp industry in Mexico is positively booming.

Perhaps the paperwork also serves the purpose of keeping the undesirables out.This is a constant concern in Mexico, the only place where I have ever seen an armed guard inside of a Starbucks. At the Sandborns (a local chain something like a Woolworths from the 1930s with the addition of a restaurant), I've seen three armed guards carrying what looked like AK-47s. I guess this is supposed to make the consumer feel special. At the bar we went to in Coyocan tonight, we drank behind a rope guarded by two or three bouncers. And when we left, we had to have the receipt stamped.

But I'm probably just bitter right now. I've been sick. I'll write something nice about the cathedrals next time.