Before I set out on this minor rant … I did go running this morning! Day three! Ok … now that the bragging is out of the way:
Today was the day to throw myself upon the blade of immigration to present my case for continued residency in the Czech Republic after the changing of my status post marriage and such. It is amazing how the ex continues to haunt my days more than two years after I have even set eyes upon her decrepit soul. That aside, I was met at the offices of the Ministry of the Interior by a gentleman from the Ostrava Expat Centre that helps out with cases such as mine. By a stroke of ‘good luck’, I was called upon fairly quickly to present myself in front of a dour faced, middle-aged woman who barely gave me a side glance, with all her focus upon my comrade as he is Czech. I understand the communication angle, as there are no barriers to him, but … how rude to not even look into my fluttering eyes as I tried my best to put on a sympathetic face! She immediately dug into me not updating the data concerning my newer passport (yes, it had been a year since the new one … no excuses), but whatever kindness in her heart there was saved me from any penalty or fine at that moment, of which I am grateful. After a bit of banter and further information passed over, she vanished into the darkened rooms down the corridor (most likely to brutally pistol whip another vagrant immigrant such as myself, though I did not see any flecks of gore upon her vibrant dress upon return … she must be a professional). With nervous laughter and swapping of bureaucratic horror stories, we waited until her return, after which this woman of power and might proceeded to rip apart my plastic residency card with a gnashing of teeth. I swear upon this sight, though everyone else round will claim before the gods that she just handed me a paper to sign and then took my card willingly from my hands. I believe they are frightened to tell the truth. With this moment of fear concluded, we were shuffled over to a new window and gentleman who appeared much calmer and friendlier in demeanour. I am guessing that the “bad cop, good cop” roles work best round here. For whatever reason, this individual seemed to have taken minor pity upon me, accepted SOME of my documents and exchanged my lengthy three year temporary residency validation in plastic for a flimsy stick-on visa inserted into my passport good for ninety days, with a good measure of “if you want more, cooperate … submit more financial forms, e.g. what did you buy for lunch in September of 1998, and what was the exchange rate at that time?”, and “though you have a signed document of accommodation in this country, we want it digitally” (though if you submitted digitally, we would want it in paper). Adding insult to injury … with a sneer on his face and a sparkle in his eyes … he slowly crept his hand under the counter, drew forth a credit card payment machine and in a voice no longer sweet with honey but still retaining reserved calm said, “you … money … now”. “How much?” I whimpered whilst pulling out my near depleted bank card. His smiling reply: “Whatever is left.”
I MAY have exaggerated some of the details … but definitely no more than 90% of them are untruths!
Dejected, poorer and downtrodden, I departed these premises of uncertainty lighter of wallet, lacking full residency rights and into the unknown of my future in this country I have called home for so long. Application for a different form of residency not based on marriage has been filed, with a few documents incomplete concerning finances, as they are confusing, but I will try to keep up hope … as there does SEEM to be a way … depending on how the wind blows on that unknown day when some poor soul locked in a cellar full of documents on every being with a heartbeat in the country decides to keep me in their good graces or not.
But you know what? I don’t feel like drinking this away tonight … a subtle win, at least in my mind.
