By noon on Thursday we have called the agent twice today. He sent a text to give him some time, and that he would call us. We are watching TV (not much to do here). We are sighing from time to time, and our stomachs frequently gurgle in unison. We have been managing with one meal a day, in the afternoon, with leftovers for later in the evening, or the next morning. We are getting hungry, and naturally we are irritable.
We want the agent to freaking return our money, and the title, so we can make some kind of alternative plan. The waiting has become excruciating, and it’s hard to see the humor in the situation any more. We say all kinds of brave things to each other, but still, we are pretty much stuck here. Now the agent says he’ll come here talk over the situation. But when will he come? Just like every other day, that is the question. When? Cuando? Cuando? Cuando?
The hotel manager called his friend who still works at the agency. He says that today, January 6, is the first day of something called Amparo, which changes the fees for importation; that yesterday it would have cost about $4,000 to import Foxy (because it is a commercial vehicle? because of its weight? he didn’t make it clear). He says that today the fees will be much lower. We wonder – why didn’t our agent give us this information?