As you can see, the list of requirements is about a mile long. But I figured, it’s just tedious, but I can do it. Maybe I could spend a day or two gathering all the documents, and be ready for the initial assessment and interview the next day, or even Monday. A terse but helpful lady at the LCRO Table of Requirements pointed me to step 1, where I could fill up a form to request for the latest certified/local copies of Mom’s and my birth certificates. I filled up and submitted the request, and they told me to go to the next room and wait.

Apparently, all the miserable people, ehem, I mean, applicants, had to wait in this large room, and your name would be called over a sound system. Your request would be handed to you, and you would be directed to an available City Hall employee at the counters, who would tell you what to do next.

I made a mistake with my first attempt, and wrote my mother’s full name on the request for my birth certificate. Since the error was with her name to begin with, naturally they didn’t find the original/local copy of my birth certificate. It was at this point that the clerk told me I would have to go to the hospital where I was born, and ask the clerk there for a copy. I nodded politely, thanked her, and left the waiting room. Then I walked to the corridor near the LCRO Table of Requirements, called Oneal, and promptly started crying. “They couldn’t find my birth certificate *sniff* and now they said *heave* I have to go *sniff sniff* to Mary Chiles! *cough* How the hell am I supposed to know where the hell that is! *sob* I don’t know how to get there!” Around me, other applicants were walking, staring, looking at their own impossible lists.

Oneal did his best to reassure me that we could find the hospital, things would work out, we would find all the documents and make the correction and it would be fine. I’m sure he felt very helpless, sitting in the office while I was in the dusty, decrepit concrete jungle that is Manila City Hall, battling my way through the red tape. Oh hunny, I’m so sorry to have stressed you out.

When I put the phone down, I realized my mistake, and decided to try again. I got two more forms, and filled up one with all the same information that was on my actual birth certificate. I also filled out a request for a copy of my mom’s birth certificate. But by this time it was almost noon, and I feared I would have to wait an hour or two while the city hall employees went on their lunch breaks. To my surprise, a very enthusiastic man at the waiting room counters explained over the PA system that they would not close for lunch, that they would have lunch in shifts, and that they would still process the requests. Despite the fact that the city hall manangs were grumpy, it cheered me up a tad that this nice old man was trying to keep our hopes up.

Eventually my turn came, and thankfully it was a success. Another terse lady called me over, made some notes on my request forms, and told me to walk to the next building, pay the fees, then come back and submit the payment stub at Step 2. With a lighter heart I walked out of the LCRO (damn accursed place) and towards the Taxpayers Lounge. I was but a few feet from the lounge when I was accosted by a nice man, who asked where I was going.

I thought he was a city hall employee, since the other hallways seemed to have other staff whose sole duty was to direct people towards the right office. I said I was going to the Taxpayers Lounge, and he asked what my problem was. So I explained that I was having my birth certificate corrected, and he exclaimed that it was a long and arduous process that would take at least six months. But not to worry! He had a solution, and he beckoned me to follow him to his friend on the second floor, and the problem would be fixed in a week.

Gladly I went with him, complaining about the bureaucracy as we climbed the stairs. On the second floor he led me down the row of councilors’ offices. We stopped outside one such office, and he introduced me to this fat, middle-aged woman sitting by the window, talking to another fat, middle-aged woman. He explained my problem, and told me that this woman (I forget her name) could help me. So I sat beside her, and explained my problem in greater detail. I thought we would enter the councilor’s office and talk there, but the woman seemed perfectly content to hold office by the window. She said if I went the LCRO way, it would take months and months, plus a court hearing, to change my birth certificate.  If I did it her way, she would just write out a court order stating that I had submitted the petition for the correction three months ago, and my birth certificate was now fixed. It would only take a week, and P2,500.

It was while she was explaining the process to me that I noticed she wore no ID, and seemed to have worn a groove in the seat because she was just so comfortable there. She must have noticed the decline in my enthusiasm, because she said it could also be done for only P1,000, but it would take two weeks. It was at this point that I realized: I was actually talking to a fixer! Preparing for this wedding has certainly opened doors to totally new experiences.

When she was done explaining, I said I would have to think about it. She gave me her number, which I dutifully wrote down, and I said I would call her once I had the money. As soon as I was out of her line of sight, I ran downstairs and made a beeline for the Taxpayers Lounge, eager to avoid any other nice old men who would try to offer me the easy way out. Once I was in line to pay the fee, I called Oneal and told him about the whole debacle.

When I got off the phone with Oneal, the pregnant woman in front of me told me she had actually done exactly as Fixer Woman had said, but through a lawyer or something who actually worked at City Hall and was a family friend, someone her family knew and trusted. I think I just politely said I didn’t know anyone at city hall, so I’d just have to stick it out. I paid my fees (which took a comedic turn, because they opened up a Senior Citizen’s lane and one old lady protested when the clerk called her “lola”), went back to the LCRO, submitted my payment stub, and was told to come back on Monday to claim the birth certificates.

By this time it was past 1:00, and there was nothing more I could do at City Hall. I trudged to SM Manila, found myself some meager lunch fare–which I couldn’t even finish–and called Oneal for another update. Notice, by the way, that the day had been spent trying to obtain only items 1 and 2 from Manila City Hall. The other seven items are another story. Abangan!

We spent Tuesday night in Roseroland, then woke up bright and early on Wednesday to go to Parañaque City Hall. We applied for the marriage license, which only took an hour. The documents required were the CENOMARs (Certificates of No Previous Marriage, obtained from the NSO), our NSO-certified birth certificates, and Oneal’s barangay clearance, since he’s a resident of Parañaque.

We went to the office, where the nice lady gave us a form to fill up–in triplicate. Naturally Oneal made me fill them up–”Your handwriting’s much better than mine!”–while he went to have our CENOMARs and birth certificates photocopied. That form was pretty detailed. Not only did it ask for the bride and groom’s personal information, but also for our parents’ information. Good thing I’m 28–if I’d been anywhere from 18 to 25, I would need a parent’s permission to get the marriage license. Zoiks.

Upon completion of the form, we had to have it notarized. We went to a law office that the nice lady specified, and for P50 they notarized and signed the forms. Then we had to make a payment of P200 at a payment lounge. Then we returned to the nice lady (it helps to be there early, and to smile at them), who gave us a slip of paper and told us to go to the DSWD office on the second floor for counseling.

This is the funny part. The nice lady told us the counseling wouldn’t take long. So we went to the office with our slips of paper, and a secretary told us to sit down, fill up some forms and sign our names on some logbooks, while she typed up a form with our names and had it signed by some lady of authority. Upon signing our certificates, she called Oneal, gave us the certificates, and said we could go. Uhm. Yep, counseling! Oneal said, “Well, if they leave you alone for a few minutes and you don’t end up yelling at each other, then you don’t need counseling!” Haay.

Then back to nice lady, who gave us our receipt and told us to come back for the license on December 21. Done!

Up next: Oneal’s baptismal certificate! We were done at the city hall by 10, so we rushed to San Vicente de Paul church in Manila, near Adamson University and TUP. Traffic was getting congested, and it was 11:30 when we made it there. Fortunately the parish office didn’t close for lunch till noon, so we had time. Oneal got his baptismal certificate. Yay!

We hadn’t eaten anything since breakfast at 6:30 AM, so we went to Makati for lunch. By 3:00 we were on the way to Bulacan, to get our wedding rings and arrhae. Traffic was bad, and I was tired and full. I fell asleep somewhere in Mandaluyong; when I woke up, we were back on EDSA and approaching Cubao. The jewelry shop was closing at 5, so we had to hurry down NLEX to get to Meycauayan. It was a little past 4 when we made it there, and boy was the trip worth it. Our rings are beautiful! So beautiful that I didn’t want to take mine off na. It looked so lovely on my finger, next to my engagement ring. The jeweler said it was a really nice design, like something she saw from Bulgari. Sosyal!

After that, it was back south. We went to the Fort, and hopped into Make Room for our wedding registry. We started picking out a few things, while waiting for Aids to come over so we could go to the dress shop. It was fun to pick out things for our new home (wherever that may be). It must be noted that most of the things we picked out were kitchen items and serving dishes; we love having people over, and we expect that both our families will be coming over a lot, especially when we have our first baby!

Then Aids arrived, and we went to Tita Jenny’s. He got measured for his barong, and we discussed Oneal’s barong with Tita Jenny. Also, good news for the lovely ladies of the entourage: your dresses will be ready for first fitting by next week. Mine too!

So in one day, we:

1. Applied for the marriage license
2. Got Oneal’s baptismal certificate
3. Got our wedding rings and arrhae
4. Picked out things for our wedding registry
5. Designed Oneal’s barong

That’s a lot for one day! And WE’RE NOT DONE! *faint*

One of the things that’s been bugging us are the church requirements for couples who want to marry. Specifically, we’ve been trying to remember where our confirmation certificates are! I knew I was received the rite of confirmation when we were in Saudi Arabia, but I couldn’t remember exactly when, and where my certificate was.

Our pursuit of Oneal’s confirmation certificate turned into an Intramuros field trip. His mom had said he and his cousins were all confirmed at Manila Cathedral in 1975, so Oneal and I figured our search should start there. This would also be our opportunity to finall explore Intramuros on foot, camera in hand, something we’d been wanting to do for years.

We first headed to Manila Hotel for brunch with Oneal’s mom. Then the driver took us to Manila Cathedral, where we were just in time for the noon Mass. It was Ash Wednesday too, so it was lovely timing. The church was full, and we were able to receive the ash on our foreheads. After the Mass, the office was closed until 2:00, so we decided to go exploring first. We walked around Intramuros and on to San Agustin Church, took pictures of everything, and even found some pretty maritime offices and the Kaisa Filipino-Chinese Community Heritage Museum. One of these days we’ll go back and explore the museums.

At 2:00, we were back in Manila Cathedral, and the office was open. Oneal inquired at the window, and was promptly told that all records for rties performed prior to 1976 were stored in San Agustin. Oops. So we had to trudge back in the afternoon heat and the dust of the city, back to the office at San Agustin.

You can imagine our relief when the girl at the office found the certificate. She was using a slow old computer, and to search their database she used a DOS program, filling in the blanks with the information Oneal provided on the form. It was a slow search, and we had to take a seat while waiting, but at least the records are computerized! The results told her not only that Oneal was confirmed in the Manila Cathedral in 1975, but also told her the ledger and line number where the original record could be found! We were really happy and relieved.

Unfortunately, the certificate would only be valid for 6 months, so if we got a copy then, it would be expired well before our wedding day. Nevertheless, it’s a relief to know exactly where the certificate is, and how to get it when we need it.

Next: my confirmation certificate! Seeing as how I can’t exactly go back to Saudi Arabia and I wasn’t confirmed in an actual church, I’m not sure how the Mount Carmel parish will react to my confirmation story. Still, Mom found my certificate and gave it to me today, so I can at least consult a priest and ask if that’s acceptable, or if I need to be confirmed again.

Wish me luck!

– rej