Hitting the High Notes

I apologize for the delay between posts. Apparently, moving to another country takes up more time than I anticipated. Settling into life here in Uruguay has definitely slowed my writing schedule. We haven’t exactly been scaling mountains or discovering lost civilizations, so there hasn’t been much to report. I’ll try to do better — but I promise not to bore you with updates like, “Today we successfully bought bananas.”

Here’s what has been happening.

We received notice that Mikey’s application for permanent residence was approved as of Friday. Cue the confetti! He now needs to visit the cédula office to get a shiny new card that says “permanent” instead of “temporary.” It’s not uncommon for one spouse to be approved before the other, so now we wait for mine. Hopefully mine is simply fashionably late. Just like this post.

Mikey joined the Montevideo Gay Men’s Chorus. He auditioned on Monday, February 23, and had his first rehearsal that very night. No easing into it — just “Welcome! Here’s your music. Start singing.”

Except… it’s not really music.

Most members receive only the lyrics — no printed musical notes. None. Zero. Mikey is someone who reads music the way most of us read a menu. Taking away the notes is like handing a chef a recipe without measurements and saying, “You’ve got this.” Waite a minute, that is like several of my mom’s receipts (a dash of this a pinch of that). It will take some adjusting. But if anyone can adapt, it’s him. After all, he was Rookie of the Year for the Hartford Gay Men’s Chorus for the 2024–2025 season. I’m confident Uruguay is ready.

Now let’s talk about banking in Uruguay. Go ahead. Take a deep breath.

During Uruguay’s dictatorship, corruption was widespread and banks were used for money laundering. When democracy was restored in 1985, the government essentially told banks, “Never again.” So now, as a non-Uruguayan trying to open an account, you provide enough paperwork to qualify for a small moon landing.

Before arriving in November, we gathered documents like overachieving students: marriage certificate, two years of tax returns, six months of bank statements, passports, proof of income — and probably a partridge in a pear tree. I’ve blocked out the rest.

Shortly after arriving, we met with our Immigration Specialist at Itaú (yes, that’s really the name) to begin the banking process. A representative reviewed our perfectly organized documents. Everything was in order.

Then she asked how much money we bring in each month.

Mikey shared his retirement income. I explained I’m currently job hunting. She chuckled — CHUCKLED! — and informed us the amount was not enough to live on in Uruguay.

Let’s rewind.

Our Immigration Specialist had previously told us that a couple could live very comfortably on $3,000 a month. We meet that standard. Apparently, the bank representative did not get that memo.

Mikey tried to explain that another retirement payment would begin in a few weeks. She interrupted to advise him not to touch his savings. In a tone that suggested we might next ask her for bus fare. She never asked if we had a mortgage in the States, car payments, or other major expenses. (We don’t.) Details, apparently, were unnecessary.

When we left the bank, I had homework: obtain letters from my retirement accounts stating how much I had invested and how much I could withdraw if I started today. Thanks to career twists and turns, I had six different accounts. Because why make anything simple?

When I contacted one company, I was told that if I moved out of the U.S. and didn’t maintain a U.S. address, I would need to close the account — with significant penalties. That seemed… dramatic.

Enter a financial manager in the U.S. I consolidated everything into one IRA, which he now manages. He drafted the letter the bank requested. We sent it to our Immigration Specialist, who forwarded it to the bank.

On Friday, we received an email: application rejected. No reason given. Just… no. FINE - I didn’t like the bank colors anyway!

It feels like the decision may have been made before we ever walked in the door. But on the bright side, consolidating my accounts was something I needed to do anyway. So I’ll call that a productive side quest.

We are now attempting Bank Number Two. Why is this so important? Because in Uruguay, many bills are paid via bank transfers. People here, throw out there bank numbers like men throw out their on OnlyFans address (if you want my OnlyFans address information please contact me directly). Without a local account, you either pay cash at an Abitab (a payment center for nearly everything) or transfer money from the U.S., which costs $45 per transfer. Also, every time we use our international debit card, there’s a 22% VAT. Yes, twenty-two percent. Apparently convenience is taxable.

So yes — we need a bank account.

Hopefully this saga resolves next week. If not, stay tuned for our GoFundMe launch. (Kidding. Mostly.)

As always, thank you for sticking with me to the end.

Remember — be KIND to yourself and be KIND to others.