Your Papers, por favor?

Exit Strategy:  As we rolled out of John's van with our massive amounts of luggage and carry-ons, Gavin, Rudy and I said goodbye to Los Angeles and our suburban life--at least for a year or so.

We should have known something was wrong: the first warning sign came when the Aeromexico ticket counter clerk asked for Rudy's health permit. He told us the documents were not original, but after conferring with his supervisor, they decided they were okay (a mistake as you will see later).
  

We were told by everyone (the vet, Diane, people who have dogs, the internet--that's everyone) that you should give Rudy the "pill" to calm him down about an hour before the flight. But we had to get him into that little doggie carrier for the flight.

Okay, so how many of you have had to drug a cute, fluffy white dog at 5:30 in the morning in a TSA line? Not many, I bet. But there we were--trying everything. First, we tried putting the half a pill into the doggie treats. That didn't work. Then, we took one of our turkey sandwiches, and rolled the turkey around the pill. That didn't work. Finally, somehow, Rudy took the pill and we could sail through TSA with no problem.

But we had to wait about 30 minutes for the pill to take effect, then Rudy happily went into the carrier.

The flight to Mexico City was uneventful. The food was good, the flight attendants were courteous, and we thought everything would be perfect in Mexico. Even Rudy was well-behaved. He whimpered a bit, and at times he snuck out of his carrier. We got excited about the upcoming adventure. Well, at least Rudy did.

Mexico City Airport Food

When we got to Mexico City airport, everything seemed so clean. Gavin and I chowed down our first food in Mexico--focaccia pizza, which was rather expensive (about 270 pesos ($12) for 2 small pies and sodas)--as we ran to get our connecting flight to Queretaro. I marveled at the irony that we had just flown from the U.S. to Mexico and were now eating Italian food. We thought this food was a safe bet and had been warned not to eat anything strange. Plus, we didn't understand the Spanish of the other dinners. Little did we know that all kinds of mystery meats would be awaiting us in Mexico.

Spanish/English signs

We both noticed that Mexico had a lot of signs in Spanish. Wow. A minor culture shock. Most were bilingual, but most everyone was speaking Spanish, even some pilots.

Then there were the bags. 11 of them. I had to have my camera bag and Gavin wanted his pillow. We had 4 massive bags of luggage. Customs seemed to be a breeze: we just answered some questions, filled out the form in Spanish (with help from several agents) and we thought we were done.
Nope.

Do You Know a Good Vet in Mexico City?
"Sir, your dog needs to be cleared for Mexico through the health inspector," one of the agents told me.
Okay, no problem. I walked over to the health inspector and had my papers.
Inspector: May I see your papers, please?
Me: Sure, they are right here (handing him the $130 health certificate from Agoura and Rudy's vaccination records).
Inspector: No (this was not a mean "no"--it was matter-of-fact, as if to say there was a small mistake for a big problem)
Me: What?
Inspector: Where is the original?
Me: Huh. That is the original. From Agoura, er, California.
Inspector: No. We cannot let your dog in with these papers. You need new ones.
Me: What? What do you want me to do?
At that, he just walked in the back, and asked his colleagues for something.
Me: Sir, what do I need to do? These papers are fine? They are from the United States (I learned later you should never try pulling the "U.S. card" with Mexican officials).
Another inspector: No.
Me: But they are the original (not telling him that I had made 4 copies and the inked one was sitting on my desk in Agoura). I paid U.S. dollars for this.
Inspector: You need another one.
I was quickly becoming super-frustrated. Gavin was waiting by the carousel with our horde of luggage and I had the dog in his carrier. We schlepped our bags in a cart over to the inspector's office and Gavin helped out.

Gavin at Mexico City Airport waiting...waiting...

Gavin: So, if we get an inspector, we can pass through Customs?
Inspector: Si.
Me: How do I do that? How much? How long will it take? We have a plane to catch.
Inspector: Ok.
He went into the back and plopped down a massive yellow pages with pages of veterinarians. I was shocked that 1) people still had "yellow pages" and 2) there were so many vets in Mexico. Exasperated, I asked him which one, and he immediately pointed to one.
Me: Could you call him for me?

He called and within 10 minutes a phone rang to signal the arrival of the vet. Rudy and I were escorted to a shady room on the side of the airport (Gavin was not permitted because they said only one person could be with the pet). The vet took out his stethoscope and heard Rudy's heart, looked at his eyes and said, "Ok, he's good. "
Me: What now?
Vet: When you pay me the 820 pesos($41), I will sign the health certificate.
I immediately took out my iphone and tried to figure out how much U.S. cash that would be. I only had a $20 bill and gave it to him.
Vet: No.
Me: That's all I have. Do you take credit cards?
Vet: (laughing). Well, we will just have to....
Me: Wait, let me ask my son.
So I ran across the baggage claim area, asking Gavin for another $21. He only had $15 total.
Me: This is all I have. Please. Please...
Vet. Ok. That is okay.
Me: Are you sure? Is that okay?
Vet: Sure. Enjoy your stay.
He signed the health certificate, then he said something in Spanish to his friends and laughed. I am sure it was about Americans not having enough money. We're still not sure if it was a scam between the vet and the inspectors. Maybe. Maybe not. A rude awakening to the policies in Mexico!

Helpful Tip: When traveling with pets, make sure you have originals and copies.

Viaje a Queretaro:
The plane trip to Queretaro went through a thunderstorm, so the ride was very bumpy. I don't think Rudy noticed as he was in his little doggie bag.
We got in at Queretaro about 10 p.m. in pouring rain. We walked down onto the tarmac but the Aeromexico attendants held out umbrellas for us. A nice touch.

Diane and Rudy at the airport (not really)

At baggage claim, we had to claim our 6 bags (minus carry-ons). Outside, Diane was waiting for us, with her colleague Jake, who would later drive Gavin to our apartment in Queretaro.
Knowing my wife, I immediately went up to her, gave her a big kiss, and handed the dog to her.

Then, I tried to go back inside to help Gavin gather the luggage. A security attendant was at the gate.
"No."
Me: What? My son is in there. Please let me back in.
Attendant: No hablo Ingles.
So, we tried to speak to him, but the rules in Mexico are rules (except when they are not followed). After a couple minutes, Gavin got all the bags, Diane and I called an Uber and we drove through the rain to our glistening, slippery new city.

We were ready to start our new adventure in Queretaro.