few days ago I was in Tijuana, to renew my visa. It's official (at least from the bureaucratic point of view, the U.S. side): write the thesis here. I already have a teacher who supports me, I have an idea of possibile argomento (non di estremo interesse, in verità), e ho un posto dove vivere per i prossimi sei mesi. Non sono convinto che sia la scelta migliore per il mio futuro, ma l'alternativa e` Bologna dove certe cose sono meglio, e certe altre sono peggio (specie lato Università).
L'esperienza a Tijuana e` stata allucinante. Quando son tornato, ho scritto una lettera a Severgnini che però non l'ha pubblicata. È un racconto, stringato ma ugualmente un po' prosaico, della mia avventura. Lo incollo qui, così almeno qualcuno (io?) lo legge.
La lettera (più or less)
The other day I went to the appointment for a new visa, and since I'm here, I went to Tijuana, San Diego who is poor across the line. To change the border to Mexico, no problem: I am in Italy where they speak a little English, traffic and rude, signs are collapsing, roads have rivers of people, hungry for fried cakes with cinnamon.
The consulate is efficient, and being Italian I have to thank: all smiling at me and say, "Ah Italy, I-TA-LIA", with fine grainy syllables, the $ 10 taxi drivers always ask me for any question and when to have given him a 20, that made me a smile as wide as a house. Burnished hues, actually.
and pass the board for the U.S. stock making by all parties. Here is the promise: http://www.cbp.gov/xp/cgov/travel/customerservice/pledge_to_travelers/ . Professionalism, Courtesy, Respect. And that's what I got: 7 hours standing, heat or cold (9 pm, with the ocean breeze, freschino ago!). Around me the human river, mostly done by Mexicans waiting with a work permit to enter the U.S.. All, like myself, to get an I-94, a slip, the heart of Homeland Security.
The truth is that United States, boasting of being the largest democracy in the world, exploiting the Mexican labor: is the market, although immoral. The heartbreaking part is that to enter the market, they are beyond all human rights treaties, forced to wait in silence. You use, and so they are there, treat you like a dog. No place to sit, no food, surly and rude officers, most of which even delayed: problems to beat on the keyboard, to communicate, repeated questions dozens of times.
While listening to the radio the hardworking Mexicans would exchange information, phone numbers, talking to Americans looking for work low cost, trying desperately to survive. The couple in front of me, in his forties, the skin burned black by fatigue, black nails, simple clothes, a suitcase, the largest they could find, and only their hands to hold.
7 hours for a piece of paper, most important, to be delivered assolutissimamente when you leave the USA. So important that my previous is still there, in the passport. In the end, he is made, I thought it my duty to protest, but when I asked him "to file a claim" no one knew what to do, and they all stiffened. An agent - the bully of the situation - has decided to once again ask the passport. And I spent, I said "no, they just checked. The links on the side said: "It is true." Upon leaving I said to that agent: "And then nobody has seen my backpack, I could have a bomb." Did not like, but he said "wait for it."
In fact released one agent asked me to pass the pack on the tape. I asked her: "I have to empty your pockets? No, there was no need. Good news for suicide bombers. And God Bless the Homeland Security.
-----------------------------------------
What I've left behind
My teacher Conducting decided to accompany me. This is because not guaranteed that the visa on it without a hitch. There are stories of people stuck in Tijuana for weeks, and people forced to return to their country of origin without going through the street. So I had prepared a plan B, packed all my possessions, alerted friends and acquaintances on how to handle my belongings and return in Italy, selling the marketable, and so on.
So my prof. decided to accompany me and to act as spokesman of the United States and Mexico. The barrier between the two countries exist, look here:
. Obviously I wanted to offer lunch, and so another 50 bucks. We shot a bit 'the city while we waited for the visas were printed, lunch, coffee, cakes. Then when it was time to pass the board he did in an instant, having a U.S. passport. To me it needed the fucking I-94 and go seven hours straight! He told me to wait until 19.30, then returning home. When he called me from home, I had just passed the board and I got on the trolley. I was black and very black. Nerissimissimo.
0 comments:
Post a Comment