How Was Your Day?

Well, I am so glad you asked. My day consisted of a visit to the the 7th layer of HELL- better known as the Ist. Police Department- Department of Foreigners. All five of us went to renew our residence permits. Let me tell you all about it...

First, you need to know that it is Ramadan. Muslims that are keeping the fast wake up before sunrise to prepare and eat a huge meal. To help everyone get up, a wonderful, lovely (NOT!!!) drummer bangs his drum loudly through the streets.... around 4 am. For this reason, we have been sleeping with our windows and balcony door shut. We have been trying to keep the fast, but cannot make ourselves get up at such a horrible hour of the morning. So, when I get up, I have a little breakfast. Justin on the other hand had been only eating the evening fast break meal called iftar. Now, you must know that the really difficult thing about a proper fast is that you do not consume any liquids, either. Remember... its hot here. NO liquid for 14 hours! So, my dear husband set the alarm on his watch so he could wake up to drink and eat a little bit. Unfortunately, the lovely dear forgot and took his watch off.... who knows where. So we had our own version of the Ramadan wake up call this morning consisting of Justin searching the flat for the alarm! FUN!

For our adventure to the other side, we had to get up and out early. So, an hour later our real alarm started going off. Again, the poor dear was too tired to properly deal with it, so we did the snooze thing for about half an hour until HE LOST THE CLOCK. How does that happen? So, by 6:30 we were all up and grumpy thanks to the obnoxious alarm that could not be found to be silenced!! What a great way to start the day. Especially this day!

We got ready and headed out to catch the bus. As we were approaching the bus stop, there goes our bus! We took a taxi down to the pier. As we reached the pier, there goes our ferry! I cannot believe this! We wait for the next one. Go across to the other side. Find a taxi. His meter is broken, so he has to keep stopping to fiddle with it. Finally, Justin just settles on a set price with the guy, and we were off!

All of that, and that's not even the start of our immigration experience! We were up late the night before trying to get all of the paper work in order. Ok... in all fairness, Justin was getting the paperwork in order. I was providing moral support from the couch by watching TV! You never know exactly what they are going to ask for. Last year we had to make 3 trips to the Police Department before we all had our permits. So, you just compile every possible document you can imagine (birth certificates, rental contracts, passports, old residence visas, bank accounts, letters, individual pictures, applications, etc.). All must have copies, but you never know how many, and some must be translated. Good grief, its a zoo!

We get there, get our number and go stand in front of our assigned window. The number system is not the same as in America, that's for sure. It takes forever. They begin one person's paperwork and inevitably they need a copy or a different document, so they have to go downstairs and get it. So, the clerk will begin the next person, and then the other person will come back. So, they get to but up to the front and continue their paperwork. Also, if your number has been passed, and you're not there, you don't have to start over. You just but up to the front and they'll begin your paperwork. It is a process of jockeying for position and praying that you have the right paperwork. Of course the clerks could care less. They are SO SLOW!!!

Everyone applying has to be present. So, I stood against the wall (in a space about as roomy as a hallway) and wrangled the kids while poor Justin played the waiting game. The kids did ok. I think that I said "keep your hands to yourself" 473 times, gave quite a few looks that could kill, and lost my religion four times, but what on earth can you expect for 5 HOURS!!! Yes, you read that correctly, it took us FIVE HOURS!!! IN ONE SPOT!!! At one point, Lucy was pitching such a fit, that an incredibly sweet lady offered to give us her number, but the clerk had already began our paperwork.

Towards the end of our process, the clerk asked Justin for the documents. Justin informed him that he (the clerk) had them. To which the clerk shuffled some papers, and replied, "they're not here. What are you going to do?" Well, not in English, of course!! That would make too much sense to have someone who speaks English in the Department of Foreigners!! Anyhow, after some intense panic (remember all of the documents that I told you we had to provide!?!?!) they were found, and our application was processed.

Then all you have to do is go downstairs, wait in a huge line to pay, take you receipt back upstairs, wait in another line, and give the approved application with the receipt to a different clerk. Then, we get to go back over and pick them up next week! Let's hope there is a nice long line. Oh... one little detail that I forgot to tell you in this long sordid tale is that the building is not air conditioned. So you are rubbing up against some savory smelling folks!!

The good news is that we get to live here another year. I think I will have about recovered from this experience by the time I get to go over and do it again!!

So... how was your day?