Monday, June 24, 2019

Hand guns.

I'm very glad that Poland has strict laws on owning hand guns. After this mornings experience, I might have been tempted to but one. Of course, it had to do with bureaucracy.

Today was the day to turn in Joan's renewal application for her EU residency permit. At 9:00 I went to Libelta street, got her official location residency document(Zameldowaniia), went to make copies of it and our rental contract and put them all in a large envelope to deliver to immigration. The lady I talked with last week told me there was a drop-off box there where I could turn them in withouut having an appointment.

I went there and guess what? I couldn't find the box. I went to the information counter and the kid behind the counter said she had to have an appointment. The next opening was the end of August. Joan's card expires August 8th. I told him that was too late and the woman said I could just drop them off.  He paid no attention to that, said it didn't matter and she had to have an appointment. I left, furious.

At home, I called the number I used when I spoke to the lady. I was #8 in line to be answered. 45 minutes later when I was #5, a woman answered, said she spoke no English and transferred me to recorded music. After 1/2 hour I hung up and called back. This time I was #8. I waited 50 minutes for my turn only hear the person only spoke Polish and Russian. She took my number and said someone would call me back. 2 hours later, no one had called.

I called again, waited 20 minutes, finally got an English speaker, told her what had happened and she put me on hold while she checked on the problem. 5 minutes later she was back and said they made a mistake at the information counter, told me exactly where the drop-off box was and to return tomorrow to deposit Joan's documents. Now I will just wait to see what happens tomorrow. Never a dull life in Poland.

Bardzo si臋 ciesz臋, 偶e Polska ma surowe przepisy dotycz膮ce posiadania broni r臋cznej. Po tych porannych prze偶yciach mog艂em ulec pokusie tylko jednego. Oczywi艣cie mia艂o to zwi膮zek z biurokracj膮.

Dzisiaj by艂 dzie艅, w kt贸rym nale偶y zwr贸ci膰 si臋 o przed艂u偶enie Joan o jej pozwolenie na pobyt w UE. O 9:00 pojecha艂em na ulic臋 Libelta, dosta艂em jej oficjalny dokument rezydencji (Zameldowaniia), uda艂em si臋 do jej kopii i naszej umowy najmu i umie艣ci艂em je w du偶ej kopercie, aby dostarczy膰 imigracj臋. Pani, z kt贸r膮 rozmawia艂am w zesz艂ym tygodniu, powiedzia艂a mi, 偶e jest tam skrzynka, w kt贸rej mog臋 je zamieni膰 na wizyt臋.

Poszed艂em tam i zgadnij co? Nie mog艂em znale藕膰 pude艂ka. Poszed艂em do lady informacyjnej, a dzieciak za lad膮 powiedzia艂, 偶e musi si臋 um贸wi膰. Nast臋pne otwarcie by艂o pod koniec sierpnia. Karta Joanny wygasa 8 sierpnia. Powiedzia艂em mu, 偶e jest ju偶 za p贸藕no, a kobieta powiedzia艂a, 偶e ​​mog臋 je porzuci膰. Nie zwraca艂 na to uwagi, powiedzia艂, 偶e to nie ma znaczenia i musia艂a um贸wi膰 si臋 na spotkanie. Wyszed艂em, w艣ciek艂y.

W domu zadzwoni艂em pod numer, kt贸rego u偶y艂em, kiedy rozmawia艂em z pani膮. By艂em # 8 w kolejce do odpowiedzi. 45 minut p贸藕niej, gdy mia艂em 5 lat, kobieta odpowiedzia艂a, 偶e ​​nie m贸wi po angielsku i przenios艂a mnie do nagranej muzyki. Po 1/2 godzinie od艂o偶y艂em s艂uchawk臋 i oddzwoni艂em. Tym razem by艂em # 8. Czeka艂em 50 minut na swoj膮 kolej tylko us艂ysza艂em, 偶e osoba m贸wi艂a tylko po polsku i rosyjsku. Wzi臋艂a m贸j numer i powiedzia艂a, 偶e ​​kto艣 do mnie oddzwoni. 2 godziny p贸藕niej nikt nie dzwoni艂.

Zadzwoni艂em ponownie, zaczeka艂em 20 minut, w ko艅cu dosta艂em angloj臋zycznego m贸wc臋, powiedzia艂em, co si臋 sta艂o, a ona zawiesi艂a mnie, kiedy sprawdza艂a problem. 5 minut p贸藕niej wr贸ci艂a i stwierdzi艂a, 偶e ​​pope艂ni艂a b艂膮d w okienku informacyjnym, powiedzia艂a mi dok艂adnie, gdzie jest skrzynka, i wr贸ci jutro, 偶eby zdeponowa膰 dokumenty Joan. Teraz b臋d臋 tylko czeka艂, aby zobaczy膰, co si臋 stanie jutro. Nigdy nie nudne 偶ycie w Polsce.