I'm not sure if any of you have ever attempted to get a visa in a foreign country before, but you should know that it's crazy hard, especially in a former communist country that is so stuck on its bureaucratic ways. These people have stamps and forms and rules for every little thing. Which wouldn't be so bad except everybody in charge gets to make up their own rules. Case in point: The no shorts allowed rule.
Kyle and I went downtown one day to start the visa process. Before we even got to the official visa place we had to pick up my important documents from the translator and then go to these two ladies to do something or other and then we had to go pay taxes and THEN I went into the Foreign Department to start the actual process. We went back to this hallway and stood all sketchy like in the doorway for them to invite us inside. As we're standing there a woman starts speaking quite loudly in agitated Serbian to Kyle. I'm of course in my mental happy place. The next thing I know I'm being thrust through the door as Kyle says "She's in a skirt, is that ok?". The woman comes around the desk and tells me that yes, that is indeed ok. I look back at him and he tells me that his shorts have made it impossible for him to step inside with me. He pushes me forward and heads for a bench along the wall.
I go inside with the agitated Serbian woman and she sits me down to go over my paperwork, upon discovering that I need a work visa she tells me that I need to go outside and wait for the inspectors next door. So here I go to wait outside door number five, where I have an excellent view of several girls getting kicked out because of their short shorts.
After a few minutes, Kyle tells me to just knock on the door and walk inside. I can imagine several things that could go wrong with this, but he was making shooing motions and I mustered up courage and knocked on the door. Inside are two Serbian women who tell me to come inside and sit down, not nicely either. Then they ignore me for about ten minutes. One of them makes a phone call and the other spends the entire time cutting my passport photos down to size with a pair of scissors that could've cut bone. It was an intimidating ten minutes. Finally phone girl leaves the room and scissor girl starts going through my paperwork. She tells me that she doesn't need a birth certificate...apparently Serbia doesn't really need that sort of proof. But she does need an address for the office building where I'll be working in the fall. Of course I don't have that information and even if I did I could never pronounce it.
She starts to get frustrated at my ignorance and I keep telling her that my supervisor is right outside. Finally she gets irritated enough that she demands I tell him to come in the office. So I rouse Kyle off of his bench and in spite of his shorts he is allowed to enter the sanctum of office number five in order to explain that we're a legit company. She doesn't really seem to believe it, but she tells me to come back for an interview the following Monday with paperwork that I need to have translated in about two days. As were leaving Kyle is telling me that he's never been denied entrance based on the length of his pants before. I guess the girl just didn't like the look of his knees.
This is just the first visa interaction, I'll tell you about the Monday meeting featuring the return of scissor and phone girl tomorrow.
Kyle and I went downtown one day to start the visa process. Before we even got to the official visa place we had to pick up my important documents from the translator and then go to these two ladies to do something or other and then we had to go pay taxes and THEN I went into the Foreign Department to start the actual process. We went back to this hallway and stood all sketchy like in the doorway for them to invite us inside. As we're standing there a woman starts speaking quite loudly in agitated Serbian to Kyle. I'm of course in my mental happy place. The next thing I know I'm being thrust through the door as Kyle says "She's in a skirt, is that ok?". The woman comes around the desk and tells me that yes, that is indeed ok. I look back at him and he tells me that his shorts have made it impossible for him to step inside with me. He pushes me forward and heads for a bench along the wall.
I go inside with the agitated Serbian woman and she sits me down to go over my paperwork, upon discovering that I need a work visa she tells me that I need to go outside and wait for the inspectors next door. So here I go to wait outside door number five, where I have an excellent view of several girls getting kicked out because of their short shorts.
After a few minutes, Kyle tells me to just knock on the door and walk inside. I can imagine several things that could go wrong with this, but he was making shooing motions and I mustered up courage and knocked on the door. Inside are two Serbian women who tell me to come inside and sit down, not nicely either. Then they ignore me for about ten minutes. One of them makes a phone call and the other spends the entire time cutting my passport photos down to size with a pair of scissors that could've cut bone. It was an intimidating ten minutes. Finally phone girl leaves the room and scissor girl starts going through my paperwork. She tells me that she doesn't need a birth certificate...apparently Serbia doesn't really need that sort of proof. But she does need an address for the office building where I'll be working in the fall. Of course I don't have that information and even if I did I could never pronounce it.
She starts to get frustrated at my ignorance and I keep telling her that my supervisor is right outside. Finally she gets irritated enough that she demands I tell him to come in the office. So I rouse Kyle off of his bench and in spite of his shorts he is allowed to enter the sanctum of office number five in order to explain that we're a legit company. She doesn't really seem to believe it, but she tells me to come back for an interview the following Monday with paperwork that I need to have translated in about two days. As were leaving Kyle is telling me that he's never been denied entrance based on the length of his pants before. I guess the girl just didn't like the look of his knees.
This is just the first visa interaction, I'll tell you about the Monday meeting featuring the return of scissor and phone girl tomorrow.
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