Fun with Bureaucrats!

On Wednesday S and I finally initiated the arduous process of getting our residency permits. The visa issue is something of a gray zone here in Romania. On the one hand, Americans are allowed to stay in the country for up to 90 days, after which they have to cross an international border. Upon re-entry you're good for another 90 days, and so on. Staying over that limit and then trying to leave Romania may result in some serious fines and possibly being barred from entering the country for six months, as happened to a friend of mine (but don't worry, he got it worked out--kind of.) On the other hand, Americans staying in a Romanian city for longer than 30 days are required to get a residency permit. The coordinator of the American Fulbrighters took us and another couple to a doctor's office, where we are supposed to be certified as being disease-free and otherwise not a health risk--never mind that Fulbright required we get extensive physicals before leaving the States. Given all the above, one might think that the doctor would submit us to a physical exam, tests, or at least an interview, but nope. 50 lei each and we were approved. Good thing we don't have bird flu or the bubonic plague.

After that surprisingly painless appointment, we moved on to the next step. According to the law here, S and I need sworn, notarized statements that we are not in a polygamous relationship, and furthermore that I accept her into my living space. Make of that what you will. This took over an hour to accomplish, partly because the notary would occasionally make mistakes in our documentation (like stating our citizenship as British). Still, though, all in all it wasn't a particularly difficult trip.

The final stop, however, was the immigration office. Now, mind you, one might think that the government would post online the hours of the office, the requisite documentation an applicant needs, and how much one should expect to pay in fees and taxes. One might also wish for frogs that fly instead of hop. Essentially, if one word describes the immigration office it would be caprice. Whatever documents are required and the price one must pay are ultimately up to the bureaucrat behind the counter. I personally can't complain, because the particular bureaucrat before me was persuaded that I did not need to pay any fees or taxes as a student. Colleagues who have done this before were not so lucky. For S., however, it was determined that she had to wait in a different line--which had just closed. Mind you, the clerk who had been behind the window was still in the room, and didn't seem to be doing anything but idly chatting with his co-workers, but that was that, and so S will have to go back on Monday. Boo.--B