Recently in Red Tape Category

After three years of dealing with Belgian bureaucracy, the uninitiated might think that things would get a little easier. They would be wrong.

I made an important discovery during today’s commune visit – workers are only permitted to give you one vital piece of information per visit. You must then continue to visit the commune, collecting your pieces of information, until you have everything that is required to obtain the document you seek. Andrew likened it to a scavenger hunt, where you collect clues to find a prize.

I remember one of the gas stations back home (I think it was Irving but I could be wrong) had a game every summer where you would get a map and with every gas purchase a city token to place on the map. When you collected all of the cities, you won a prize. This is exactly what a Belgian commune visit is like.

We’ve been to the St. Josse commune 3 times now (well 4 if you count yesterday when we went and they told us to come back today because there were already 50 people waiting). I must say that the clerk (as we managed to get the same one each time) was very friendly and helpful. He seemed to agree that it was ridiculous that our old commune couldn’t just send them our file, instead requiring all new copies of our documents. However, our ID cards have finally been dealt with. Our parking permit is another matter altogether.

On our first visit, we were told that we couldn’t get the permit until we were registered with the commune – clue number 1. One our second visit we were told that we had to have the vehicle registration papers with us – clue number 2. Today, we were told that because our car is a leased vehicle, we need an attestation from the company that Andrew is the primary driver. IF (and that’s a big if) we have all of the puzzle pieces next time and get the permit, we will have to return in July when we get our new car and do it all over again. Oh Belgium…

Finally. This morning I had a call from the commune to come and pick up my Identity Card.

It's orange, which means it's tied to Andrew's. So I still can't work. However, now that I have it I am allowed to stay here for a year (then I have to renew) and I can leave and re-enter the country as I wish.

After everything I've been through, the actual event was rather anti-climactic. I rather expected a parade... or at least a band... or at least a 'Welcome to Belgium.'

All I got was, "That will be twelve fifty please."

Oh well.

It seems just based on odds alone I could leave the town commune at least once without feeling like I've been beaten. The odds were still against me today. While what I feel like is downing a bottle of red, gorging on chocolate and hiding under my desk, I have maturely decided to vent my frustration in my blog.

I thought I was almost there... just one simple police visit away from red tape freedom. I was so wrong.

It's been a month now since my last visit and I was worried that I had missed the police check-up while we were in Helsinki. I was concerned that without my Identity Card I would have trouble getting back into Belgium. We're planning a trip home soon to visit friends and family and celebrate Christmas and I didn't want any hassle coming back to Belgium. So we went to the commune to see if this was going to be a problem.

Andrew did a valiant job getting his point across in Dutch. But we were lost at the response... we only knew that it was negative. Another woman was called into the conversation. They deliberated back and forth and then told us that the Identity Card would do no good either way. The first woman said that I can't travel on an Identity Card. The second said I could use my passport but they couldn't guarantee that I would be allowed back in... Then the first added that she would try to speed up my police visit. Well that's helpful...

I'm sure these women are very good at dealing with local issues and I doubt there are many non-EU nationals residing in our commune. Regardless, I wanted to knock their heads together and scream, "Why do you have to make this so bloody difficult."

We thought Andrew was safe. He had his Identity Card and they had told him that it would replace his visa, which is now expired. That now seems to be not the case... or maybe it is the case. We can't get a straight answer.

Do we or do we not have a residency permit? Do we or do we not both need visas? Am I or am I not covered by Andrew's documentation? Shouldn't these be simple straight forward yes/no type answers? They should be... but no one gives us the same answer twice.

Once again I question our sanity at not forcing the company to pay for someone to help us with this. It would have more than paid for itself by now, in avoiding all of the time waited and anger and frustration.

I feel like our hands are tied and our fates our utterly at the whim and fancy of whatever government official we happen to be talking to at any given time.

Again I am left thinking of immigrants coming here from 'non-western' countries and I can't even begin to imagine what they have to go through if it is this difficult for us. At least Andrew has a job and a work permit... How would we manage with nothing; coming from a country that isn't wanted in the EU.

Will this saga ever end?

My favorite part of living abroad is the subject of my Expatica blog this week. Check it out here.

According to the Belgian government, Andrew and I are not legally married. This came as quite a shock, as I distinctly remember walking down an isle, wearing a white dress, signing papers in front of friends and family and kissing my (I thought) new husband about five years ago. Strange… We learned this little fact yesterday, when we went to register at the Kortenberg commune. As I mentioned before, every time you move in Belgium, you must register with what is essentially the town hall. I’m not sure exactly what the reasons for this are but I’m sure they include generating mounds of useless paperwork and creating jobs for the makers of useless and/or redundant policies and regulations.

We are apparently not legally married because the Belgian government does not recognize our marriage certificate without it be notarized in Canada and having an “Apostille.” ‘What is an Apostille?’, you ask. That is a very good question and I’ll let you know as soon as we figure that out. The major problem with not being married to my husband is that he is the only one with a Visa and work permit. Without these items I can only legally stay in Belgium for three months. This leads me to the second problem…

When we flew in to Schipol airport, the customs officer didn’t stamp our passports. This is no big deal for Andrew, as he has a Visa, but it causes a problem for me because they don’t know when to start my three months. The only thing we had to go on was our rental contract and the person we were dealing with at the commune didn’t know if the government would accept that.

So at this point my options are: apply for a Visa based on the fact that I am Andrew’s wife or get the marriage certificate and our birth certificates legalized, with the Apostille. Problems: A) not knowing what the Apostille is B) possibility of having to leave and re-enter the country to get my passport stamped C) having the Visa application rejected D) thinking very bad thoughts about all Belgian government officials.

Needless to say, we left the commune feeling like we had been beaten repeatedly with a large blunt object. Just when you think you have everything necessary to do anything, there is one more document, or signature or silly thing you have to do.

This meal is brought to you by Ikea.

In the continuing saga of Caesar, our puppy is supposed to arrive tomorrow. We still don’t know if we have all the documents he needs. We also just learned that we have to pay in cash to pick him up. Please don’t ask me how much this is costing because it sends me into convolutions whenever I think about it. Please cross you fingers and think happy doggy thoughts that everything will go smoothly for him. Andrew and I have visions of seeing a large Saint Bernard, running down the tarmac, on the evening news.

Finally no more floor picnics!

On a happy note… We have a table! When you register at the commune, they send someone out to check that you are living in the house you say you are. Other than the bedroom, our house basically looks like squatters had moved in. The two chairs and lawn furniture in the living room probably wouldn’t be that convincing to the officer so we made another pilgrimage to Ikea. I put it together yesterday afternoon and I love it. It also expands with two leaves to seat about eight. I don’t know when we’ll ever need it to be this big but it will be great for scrapbooking when I finally have a printer.

So tomorrow we head to Amsterdam and hopefully we will be returning with a large, smelly dog and our family will be reunited once more. Hopefully…