Getting a driver’s license in the Yucatán is notoriously not for the faint of heart. It’s a cumbersome and daunting process, even for locals. I put this off for a long time, until the point where not being able to drive locally started to feel really restrictive. Even if I wasn’t ready to buy a car, I at least wanted the freedom to be able to rent one for weekend getaways, errand days, and vacations.

The procedure to get a license keeps evolving with the rules changing quickly, which happened to me, so I’m not going to go into all the details of the process as that won’t help anyone reading this post. I don’t know how many super detailed recaps I read before starting the process only to discover that most of the advice was obsolete.

One of my hurdles was that the SSP (state police) require a practical parallel parking test and I didn’t have access to a car. The solution was so obvious that I was embarrassed it had to be pointed out to me — take a course at a driving school and use their car for the exam. At the time I was told this, the school did both the theoretical and practical testing, which sounded so much easier and less stressful than doing the exam with the police.

But when I finally started the process in early December 2024, the police had changed their mind about schools doing testing, which was really frustrating as I was nervous about a timed theoretical test, never mind the parallel parking with very exacting criteria.

The first step was to gather all the documents that I needed. Residents have an extra hoop to get their license that actually feels punitive and ridiculous, not something I usually say about procedures here. There’s this law that you can’t drive on your country’s license when you become a resident here, fair enough, but then making people do three trips to immigration to get a license feels like it’s causing the problem they are trying to avoid, leading many expats I know to drive on quasi-legal out-of-state licenses or with no license at all.

Once I had gathered originals of the following documents, I had to make a trip to the SSP to get a letter to take to immigration:

• residency card
• passport
• water or power bill
• birth certificate (no need to have to have it translated)

The letter to immigration basically says “This person came to us wanting a license. Before we can consider giving her a license, we want to confirm her legal status and address in Yucatán.”

If I was a citizen, I could have shown up with a utility or bank statement showing my name and address, but as a permanent resident, even if I had such a thing, it wasn’t good enough, they needed immigration to confirm it. Which is laughable because all immigration did was check that I had a utility bill that matches the address I have on file. I could have moved ten times and just gone back to that original address and asked the current resident for the most recent bill.

At any rate, the first visit to SSP went quickly. Government processes run really smoothly in Yucatán; it’s very impressive. You arrive somewhere with throngs of people and it looks positively chaotic, but once you get in the right queue, getting things done is efficient. I went to a uniformed officer standing guard and told him I needed a letter from them to take to immigration so I could get my license. He told me to go right in through the gate and speak to a woman at a desk set up outside. There was no line to speak with her. I reiterated what I wanted and all she wanted was a copy of my residency card, not even the original. She then told me to sit on a bench, not the relatively comfy chairs that form the long queues for various services. I sat there for at most 15 minutes catching up on client emails when another lady came up to me, confirmed my name, and gave me the letter. She had me check that the information was correct and discussed next steps and how long I had to complete the process.

The next day I went to immigration. I went up to an attendant and said what I wanted, then was directed to a chair in the queue for folks without appointments, which they called the information queue. I waited about 30 minutes and was let inside, where I had to register and get into another brief queue. When it was finally my turn, the agent didn’t want to see any documents, just gave me a fill-in-the-blanks document to complete that would become my request for the letter (“constancia de domicilio”) and also a form to take to the bank to pay. He told me that they close this part of the office at 1PM, so since it was just past noon, I was best to come back the next business day to continue the process.

The following week, I returned to immigration with the proof of payment and it was much of the same process, but this time my documents got a very cursory review to make sure I had everything, then I was sent to yet another queue for a desk deeper into the building. This next agent did the complete review of my documents and to my relief said, “Muy bien,” signalling that she was satisfied and would issue the letter, which I was told to pick up in about 10 calendar days.

On the date in question, I returned a third time to immigration, this time earlier in the day, and the line was huge and not moving. After perhaps 30 minutes and calculating that I was going to be there at least three hours I heard “Can the lady who is here picking up her constancia de domicilio please come inside.” That was me! I went in, got to skip the inside queue, and was handed my letter and told to review it to make sure everything was accurate. This was a good example of how government offices are keeping track of who is present and get the quick and easy transactions out of the way ahead of potentially lengthier ones. They’re not making people wait just to make people wait.

Next up was driving school, but we were firmly into the Christmas season at this point and work is always heavy that this time. I’d been told driving school was two hours a day for a week, then half a weekend for theoretical, so I wanted to make sure I had plenty of free time.

January 8th of this year, I went to the driving school near my house, Escuela de Manejo del Sureste (which happens to be the top-rated driving school in the city) to ask about the process. Once they knew I have 30 years of extensive driving experience, I was told I did not need to take a full course. They suggested I do an intensive weekend class that consisted of 2.5 hours of theory on a Saturday morning, followed by 2.5 hours of driving, then 2.5 more hours of driving the Sunday. Then I could schedule the school to take me to the police to do my exams, but this could take months! I was bummed as I have vacation at the end of February and was hoping to rent a car, but at least I’d be getting the ball rolling. I enrolled in class for the following weekend so as to not interfere with my Pilates schedule that week.

Driving school weekend finally rolled around. I couldn’t believe how stressed I was about it. The theory class went well and I understood the instructor, but I felt a little slow. We did a practice theory exam at the end that convinced me I would not pass the theory exam at the police since it was timed and you couldn’t go back and review your answers. My Spanish comprehension is good, but I need enough time. But I didn’t want to do the exam in English because I would still be translating. The tests were graded right then and I had two mistakes, with a pass being no more than five. Phew!

(I’ll do a parenthetical here to say that I wrote about the process on a local expats Facebook group and was met with a lot of derision about going back to driving school when I am so experienced. I wanted to make sure I knew local laws. Expats frequently express frustration that “locals can’t drive” and I wanted to see if some of the common scenarios were just a case of the expats not knowing local laws. Yep. The big one is the roundabouts. Here, the interior lane can exit straight, effectively cutting off the middle lane. It’s the single biggest complaint I see from expats and proof of their superiority over locals. But it’s right there in black and white that it’s okay to exit straight from a roundabout interior lane in Yucatán. This discussion was the only time I found the courage to speak up in class and ask for clarification, saying I’ve driven in several countries where that’s not permitted. The instructor said the same was true for him and this is truly a Yucatán quirk.)

I relaxed a bit once I knew I wouldn’t have to redo the theoretical part of the class since they don’t take you to the police unless you pass. I was paired up with my driving instructor, a lovely lady who immediately put me in the driver’s seat once she knew that I was not a brand-new driver. I hadn’t driven a standard transmission vehicle in three years, but since that is the more natural choice for me, I didn’t have any trouble. I got a few notes on my shifting in the immediate moments following departure, and then the instructor realised that this was just me getting used to a new vehicle as I had it down pat within three blocks. She had me drive most of the way to Progreso, allowing me to do both city and highway driving, then let me drive the entire periférico counter-clockwise before taking me to a remote neighbourhood northwest of Mérida to start on the parallel parking practice. At the end of the day I was shocked when she said that she would have never guessed that I hadn’t driven in three years and that I’m an excellent driver with no bad habits! She said we would just focus on parking the next day.

Sunday morning, she insisted on picking me up at home, something I wanted to avoid so that the neighbours wouldn’t see the driving school car parked in front of my house (gossip, LOL!), but she was persistent. She had me head south to an area with a huge empty parking lot. I then parallel parked for two hours straight. OMG. I used to parallel park Miranda without blinking, but a tiny car without sharp corners? It was not happening. I had the theory down pat, but I just could not get it done perfectly, often “failing” because I wasn’t perfectly centred back to front in the parking spot despite being the perfect and straight distance from the curb.

By the time we were done, I was dejected. There was no way I was going to pass my test with the police, especially in a few months with no opportunity to practice. It felt so moronic when I had repeatedly proven I could get in and out of a tight parking spot without hitting anything, which is all that would matter in the real world. I couldn’t understand how upbeat my teacher was when she’d wasted all that time with a student who wasn’t going to get her license. She got back in the car with me to head back to my house.

I was exhausted and not in the mood for a pep talk when she said “Congrats, you passed driving school! And guess what? We got an update from the SSP yesterday that they are overwhelmed with license applications and so have reversed their decision on not accepting a pass from a driving school for experienced drivers. Come back to school tomorrow to get your certificate, then get on to the SSP to get your license!”

WHAT?!

I was in SHOCK. I didn’t even want to tell anyone or even think too hard about it for worry about jinxing my opportunity to finish this process without more effort.

The next morning, I headed straight to a photo place when they opened at 10:00 as I needed two “infantil”-format photos for my school certificate. An Uber picked me up at 10:01. He asked if he should wait for me at the studio. Last time I got photos it took an hour to receive them, so I told him no, and was planning to get some breakfast. Well, the studio upgraded their equipment and had me out the door in 10 minutes! And guess who was waiting for me outside?! “I had a feeling it was going to be fast and I wanted to continue our conversation, so I decided to give it 15 minutes.” I’ve had some kind Uber drivers, but he was the best. He had me at driving school by 10:30. It was really quick there as well, but I’d firmly dismissed the Uber driver because of the chance that I would not get the certificate immediately, in which case I would just walk home. Another Uber showed up quickly, and I was at the SSP at 11:01 on the dot. I could not believe I’d done all that in an hour!

At the SSP I again went to a uniformed agent to ask where I needed to go. He put me in a standing queue outside the main waiting area. A lady did a cursory check of my documents and then told me to go to the same lady at the table I’d been to on the previous visit. That lady did yet another review of my documents, just to make sure I had everything and all my copies, had me sign in, and then waved in the general direction of some chairs and to follow the instructions of the standing lady in black and white.

What followed can only be described as an hour of playing musical chairs. Every five or ten minutes, we’d all have to stand and move five seats down. I’d brought my iPad to work on a job, but eventually gave up and just scrolled Instagram. The time flew by, and I was finally let into the licensing building. Inside, it was set up a lot like the smaller border checkpoints where there were a bunch of kiosks for different tasks all arranged in chronological order around the room. The first step was document reception, and there were about six people doing that. It was a very short wait here, maybe two minutes.

I presented all my documents and discovered I was missing a copy! I don’t even remember of which one, probably the driving school certificate, but the lady said “No worries. We can complete the process, then you can get the copy and continue without losing your place in line.” I’ve had that happen a few times over the years and have never had the horror story scenario of being turned around to start all over for missing a copy. In fact when I was at immigration in the inner office, I discovered I’d left the original of the fill-in-the-blank form in my printer, and the agent said, “Oh, we only care about an original signature, so just sign this copy in blue ink and it’ll be fine.”

Part of completing the process at the document reception kiosk was that you have to give an emergency contact name and phone number that would be printed on the license. I was not ready for that and the only thing I could think to offer was the name of my insurance broker since I’d end up calling her in such a situation! I let her know that night that I’d done that, and she said that was just fine, exactly for the reason I had thought.

All of that sorted, I was sent outside to get my copy. I asked a lady where I could get copies, and she directed me around the circular core of the building, close by but out of sight. Copies were 2 pesos each, going rate at a neighbourhood place 1.5 pesos, perfectly fair for the convenience! I went back inside, gave the agent the document, and was directed to a chair out of the queue.

This is where I felt uncomfortable for the first time as I was now out of the line and not sure what to expect next. After a few minutes, a man came to get me for my “pruebas” (tests)! but before I could even process that, the agent at the counter called out, “No, no, she’s got a certificate from driving school.” THANK GOODNESS. I still wasn’t sure at this point that I was leaving with a license, but it was becoming more and more likely. After a few more mionutes, a different lady approached me with my packet of paperwork and told me to go to the end of the room to the medical unit.

There was no wait there. First stop was to get the eye test. Next stop was to give them my blood type. They are set up to do blood typing, but I knew mine. I also had to fill out for the third time the same brief medical questionnaire.

That completed, I was told to get in line to pay. This is when it hit me for the first time that I was through this arduous task and was going to walk out with a license. J’étais abasourdie.

At payment, I was told that as a new driver I could only get a two-year, not five-year. license. The cost was just under $800, and, yet another update, I could pay with my credit card rather than cash. I use my card when I can because I get points that are like cash. This year I paid for half of my property taxes with my points, so it really is like free money!

There were two more queues after payment! Next stop was picture and biometrics (digital fingerprints and retina scan, which I’d already gone through at the tax office a few years back), with a final document check that I understood after the fact was to make sure that information printed onto your license (pretty much your entire life story) was accurate.

Then there was maybe a 30-second wait to have the license delivered. I forget exactly what that last agent said to me, but I remember his tone. He was doing something so banal to him, but his tone along with something like “Felicidades” spoke volumes that he understood that to me, this was not routine, that I’d come through something huge that needed acknowledgement and that I was being praised for making it to the other side. What kindness!

I headed outside in absolute shock that I was finally a legally licensed driver in Yucatán.

I promptly texted my instructor to let her know, and her reply made her seem more excited than even I was. LOL I am so grateful for how enthusiastic she was in making sure I succeeded and then celebrating that success.

What a journey, but now, a new, freer, phase of my life in Yucatán can begin! Road trip ahead!!!!!