Officially Visa'd

About 10 months after I arrived here in Berlin, I am officially visa'd. Hooray! But why'd it take so long?

I think I learned a valuable lesson. Do not confuse the Auslanderbehorde. They do not like confusing American writers who work for off-shore companies. Many guidelines need to be followed and rule books thumbed through. There is no room for common sense - only Rules!

The German system (from our perspective) makes no sense and it's bureaucracy is no doubt increased by the unhappy people who work there. Do they have to get a degree in hating people? As always - this is the time to preface how lucky we are to even be able to live & work here. I know its nuts trying to get into the US and we are the ones who decided to live here. Still - not so fun.

Luckily, during our appointment we bumped into the one nice woman we worked with before and everything went according to plan. Well, basically. There was some confusion about where exactly to go, awkward butting in line, and a discrepancy in the price of the visa (in our favor so we were ok with it :). BUT the most important thing - I got it. It's even quite vague allowing me to work as a writer anywhere in Germany. If I wasn't so busy & happy in my current position that would be quite enticing.

I do feel so sorry for making the process so difficult. Ian got his teaching visa (much more common in these parts) ages ago. Next time, I will just lie & apply for the teaching visa. Just kidding kids, don't do that.

Visa what!

(But seriously - do that. )

Want to hear more about stamps & frustration at the Ausländerbehörde? 

• They love stamps... lots of stamps.
• The most Frustrating Waiting Room in Berlin
• A Hate Letter to the Ausländerbehörde

The most Frustrating Waiting Room in Berlin

You too can be greatly annoyed in Berlin in just 3 easy steps!

1. Arrive in Berlin in need of long-term visa
2. Carefully study rules, regulations, and documents required and assemble your file
3. Go to the Ausländerbehörde (Foreigners Authority) where they will not give you appointment, keep you waiting for hours, have an almost indecipherable accent, ask for documents they hadn't mentioned up to this point, and then merrily (this is a joke as nothing is "merry" here) send you back home to come try again another day.

Eastside Gallery & Fernsehturm

Oh, the Ausländerbehörde. How I hate you.

A Hate Letter to the Ausländerbehörde

So the day of the visa appointment finally came....and went...without us getting our visas. BLARG! We know standards have been raised, but we were much more prepared than when we received our visas in 2008. We had an appointment, a list of required documents, official German insurance, and a smile.

Apparently when they sent us a list of required documents they thought it was very efficient not to ask for some beforehand and just see if we telepathically foresaw them being asked for.

They love stamps... lots of stamps.

Well, Ebe and I are officially registered with the local town hall. A rule in Germany is that you must register with your local town hall whenever changing addresses. We've been kind of bad and waited until today to do it. The process wasn't all that difficult, but we were a little nervous going in because our landlady has never registered, so we didn't want to get her in trouble. Needless to say, after a few questions in German, a glance at our passport, and some data input, we were given a piece of paper with a stamp showing that we have officially registered.... yay. Apparently German bureaucracy loves stamps. We finally have a document that is stamped, and now all we need are a few more to finally apply for an extension on our VISA.

After all this, I think I need a coffee. Which reminds me of a little rant I had with Ebe outside the Fernsehturm one day. Back home, Seattle being home of course, you order a coffee and you have your choice of 4 different sizes... short, tall, grande, and venti. Germany seems to have the choice of two... small or large, and the large isn't even that big! I order a large and get a cup of coffee the size of a short back home! Now, if I can still hold my hands still enough to perform a vasectomy on Kevin Federline, the coffee was too damn small. If I'm not running for the nearest john for fear of befouling my pants after my cup of coffee, the coffee was too damn small. I want to be shaking like a whore in church or Michael J. Fox after my coffee. Oh sweet Seattle barristas, how I miss thee.