I took the Subte (subway) to a stop approximately 4 blocks away from the Migrations Office, and started to walk in what I thought was the right direction. Streets are rather difficult to navigate in Buenos Aires because half of the time there is no sign indicating which street or streets you are on at a given corner. But, some of the signs are really helpful and actually tell you which block of the street you are on (aka 3100-3200, etc). I found the street the office is on and started walking to the 1300 block, because the address was 1351. I saw nothing that looked like a Migrations building and a nice parking attendant noticed I looked lost and asked what I was looking for. Actually, he guessed it—it must happen often. He told me to turn around and go four blocks in the opposite direction...aka the 1000 block. What?!?! I will never understand this city, or their method of assigning addresses.
I managed to find the "Migrations Office," which was not just one office but an entire complex of different buildings labeled with numbers. After asking several people, I was able to figure out which building I needed to go to, #4, which was apparently half of a building containing both #3 and #4. The door to #4 said "Salida" ("Exit"), so I went to the door that said "Entrada" ("Enter"), which was labeled #3 but in the same building. Already, I had no idea what was going on.
I walked inside and saw a couple of booths that said "Information," and I thought they looked promising and told the man behind one of the booths the name of the office I was looking for. He handed me a number and pointed in a vague direction, and I wandered back to a waiting area in which other people possessed similar numbers, and had a sign displaying which number was being served at which window.
It was exactly like going to the DMV. Supposedly I had an "appointment," but I'm not sure what that did for me, because I feel like I could have done the exact same thing without it.
So, I waited for my number to appear and walked to the appropriate window. Might I add, these windows were literally windows, made of solid glass, with tiny slits at the bottom for exchanging paperwork and apparently for hearing through, essentially forcing people like me to bend down like idiots to hear what the people behind the glass were saying.
I told the lady who was supposed to be helping me that I was there to get my visa. She leafed through my passport, said one thing which I was unable to hear through the impenetrable shield between us, saw the confused look on my face, and without ANY attempt at further conversation said "I'm going to get somebody who speaks English." I told her I could speak some Spanish, but she was apparently uninterested in giving me further direction. She told me to sit down and wait.
So, I sat down and waited a further 20 minutes, when a lady finally came and asked what I needed. I said, "I'm here to get my visa. Am I in the right place?"
"You have an appointment today?"
"Yes."
My helpful English speaker apparently found this situation very hilarious, and laughed as she took me into the other half of the building...aka #4...the building I thought I needed to go to in the first place. Awesome.
There, I was fingerprinted (for the second time since I've been here; the first was when I got a background check to obtain the criminal records necessary for the visa. You think they'd have them on file?), given another piece of paper, and pointed towards yet another series of booths. There, a lady who actually tried to speak to me in Spanish I could understand took all of my accumulated documents and paperwork and gave me some papers to sign, then told me to go pay my 300 peso fee and come back. After this, I had to sign more papers and wait a short while more.
After all of that, I was given a piece of paper and told to come back in 15 days for the visa.
All I could think was, "What just happened?"
Long story short: getting your visa is like going to the DMV. And to call it an "appointment" is a joke. I'm pretty sure they just tell people to come on certain days to regulate the amount of people they have to deal with.
Oh, life abroad...what an experience.
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