THE SICKNESS (beaurocratic nightmares part II)

When I arrived home I wasn’t feeling to crash hot. By Tuesday I was even worse. By Wednesday I was as sick as a dog. Being sick is one thing. Being sick in a foreign country is quite another. Being sick in a foreign country in a house by yourself is even worse. And especially bad is being sick in a foreign country by yourself with the nearest pharmacy and supermarket 10 minutes bicycle ride away. I had to send nadia to the supermarket ….invalid that I was, too feeble to ride my own bicycle.

Marianne, bless her heart, had sent a big bag of food home with me, and I lived off it for the whole week. Raisin buns became my staple diet, because I happened to have a bag of them. I didn’t even like raisins before, but oddly enough after a week of eating them they’re not so bad anymore. Dinner was cheese on bread.

Meanwhile I had four assignments due before I could go away to Torino, and to boot was supposed to be making miniature windmill pen holders (yes I know). Everybody was allocated a task for torino, and mine was “relational gifts”. Great, buy a few bottles of wine? But no, the budget is 3 euros per piece….make something in the workshop!

All this I probably could have coped with normally. But then came the letter…it had arrived a week earlier but been cast aside, because I didn’t have time to get someone to translate it. I came back to it upon my return. My (weird) neighbour approximately translated it for me….. “something something… inadequate documentation…. something something…. residence permit”.
Oh dear… “You must act on this letter within seven days of receiving it”…. Even more oh dear.
Considering it had already been two weeks.

“Oh god” I sniffled. But, nothing to be done… It had to be sorted out.

I looked at the website; couldn’t find the right information. But there was a number to call; “this number incurs a charge of 10 cents a minute”. But of course I am an ultimately stingey student; “screw that” I thought. I sent an email. Ten minutes later, a reply. “Your dossier is unable to be accessed by the personnel in this department, any requests should be directed to the following number (this number incurs a charge of 10 cents a minute)”. Bloody hell! I gave up my dignity and principles and called the number.

On hold…. On hold….. on hold. Finally a person. She doesn’t speak English….. on hold… on hold.. .. on hold. English speaking person. English speaking person looking through my files. “One of the things you need is a bank statement showing you have enough money in your account to live here”.
“But I don’t. My parents are going to transfer extra money in as I need it”.
“Oh……” She didn’t know what to do…..
on hold….. on hold…

Bing! Boop! “You have no credit left”. In one pointless conversation, this useless help desk had chewed through ten euros of my money. I couldn’t email, I couldn’t go anywhere, I couldn’t print anything, and my phone was useless. I had no infrastructure. For ten minutes Madeleine was replaced by a shrieking banshee, throwing various objects at the wall. Then the banshee was replaced by a wailing heap; calling aghast parents on the other side of the world and blubbering at them.

But janneke, my guardian angel, put it back in perspective for me when I showed up at her office with my letter.

“Oh don’t worry about them. They are a government department…. So they like to send letters. Just send something back. If it’s the wrong thing, then they I guess they will just send you another letter. And if worse comes to worse, they can’t kick you out before December anyway.”
I sent a letter back. It was even polite!