Back at It!

Well, hello there friends and family!

I almost forgot how to post on my own blog! I've been away a little too long! Oops-y-daisy! My mother phoned up the other day and said, "Honey, is everything okay? I have been checking your blog every single morning, and you've been slacking. Are you certain that everything's peachy-keen over there?" 

{Mom's are just the best aren't they?!}

Mom's comment got me thinking - is everything indeed "fine" in our expat-adventure? Contrary to what our mothers may think, we have not been away on an exotic month-long holiday, we're not pulling our hair out because of another sudden move, and fortunately we aren't rotting away in a foreign prison. We're still living in the quaint Belgian city of Roeselare, and we're enjoying the sweet (and slow) transition of winter turning into spring. Life is starting to feel a little more normal these days, and maybe that's partly why I haven't posted a whole lot recently. While there are still a million things to explore in our new world, I have been doing my very best to soak up the moments and enjoy BEING where I am. 

I am also being forced to learn a bit more about patience. Hard, but perhaps necessary, lessons. 

Just One More Paper!

I alluded to the police station in my last post, so now I’ll explain a little more about our adventures in po-po-land. Please remember that I never want my observations to be perceived as complaining or culturally insensitive. I am wading through the differences in Serbia and choosing to see them as “different, but not wrong.” Although, one has to admit - some times the differences are so vast that they are shocking and even a little humorous.

So Serbia recently changed the visa laws. Used to be that if you exited the country every three months, you could stay in Serbia “visa-free” as long as your heart desired. You could cross a border, turn your car around, get your passport stamped, and re-enter Serbia. That would have been considered “leaving” the country, and then your three-month window would again be extended. Needless to say, a lot of people were probably working in Serbia without a visa and without paying taxes.

Well, the visa laws have all changed. Now you can only stay in the country for a combined three months before you HAVE TO get a visa. And they don’t make it that easy to get a visa. Chris started the process at the beginning of August, and it must have taken a month before he had all of the “correct papers” necessary to submit his visa application. It is almost a joke in Serbia that every time you go to the police station for anything (drivers license, building permit, ID card, visa), you must stand in one line after another and once the lines have wound down, you’re always missing JUST one more paper. It didn’t matter if Chris’ company called ahead of time and verified that we had all the correct forms, without fail, we were always missing something. Makes me want to avoid the police station at all costs, and most Serbian people I have spoken to feel exactly the same way.

Every time we showed up at the station, we were working with a different officer who wanted something opposite of what we had been told the time before. Although there were photocopiers at the police station, they made you go to the little business adjacent to the station to pay for our copies. I think they have a deal with that little business that they will help keep him in business. Can’t say it really bothered me that much, it just seemed like a huge waste of time.

Once Chris received his visa, they allowed me to start the application process. Luckily we had been through it once before, so we thought we knew exactly which papers the police would ask for. Chris and I arrived at the station armed with a stack of papers and the assumption that we would not have to come back again. We should have expected that of course we were missing JUST one more paper. They told me that I needed to open a bank account and prove that I had access to a certain amount of money in case anything happened to Chris. We left the police station slightly discouraged and frustrated. We knew that we could not convince the bank to allow me to have my own account, and that is where Marko saved the day. My previous post details how I finally got that one last paper to appease the police.

The end of the story is that I should receive my own visa in about a week. Yeahhh!! Then I can actually start the job search. Ohhh, and we should not have to see the inside of that police station for at least another 5 months!

Whatever You Need.

“Chris and Lana, really, if you need anything at all, please let us help you. Anything at all.”

It is so easy to utter these words in passing, but an entirely different thing to put them into action, and everyone I meet in Serbia wants to help. Seems that I receive a similar offer every day, from every new acquaintance, always offered with a sincere smile.

To be completely honest, initially when we met our new friends, I almost disregarded their offers to help. I am so used to the American way of 10+ hour work days, hurried lunches, long commutes, slapping on makeup in the car, cramming in a workout, inadequate hours of sleep, grabbing a coffee on the run, take out dinners, never enough time in the day. While I was used to getting similar offers in America, I never seemed to take anyone up on them . . . why bother, they would just be too busy. I know the same could have been said about myself; I was so good at over scheduling myself that I hardly had time to breathe let alone help a friend out. I think there is so much that I can learn from the Serbian way of life.

The first week we arrived, I could not find clothing hangers anywhere, so Lela walked with me to the Chinese store and helped me check out with the appropriate amount of money. I kept thanking her over and over again, and her only response was “ohh, it was nothing, so please stop saying thank you!” To her it was “nothing,” but to me, it was everything.

After about three months and 20 trips to the police station, Chris received his Serbian visa. The police station here is a circus, but that can be saved for another post. The important thing to know is that Chris had received his visa and that meant that I could finally begin the long process of obtaining one for myself. I found myself stuck between a rock and a hard place. The police were telling me that I must have a Serbian bank account before they would give me a visa, and the banks were telling me that I could not open a bank account until I had a visa and had lived in Serbia for a year. Does that make any sense to you? Yeah, me either.

Last Wednesday, Chris came home early and we set off in search of a large local bank, hoping that they would bend the rules just a bit to appease the police. We found the bank, and then found that they closed at 3:00. It was 3:10. It would just have to be put off for one more day. We walked past Plato Books on our way home, and found Marko sitting down and enjoying a cup of coffee. He had just finished a 7-hour day at the café, changed his clothes, and was about to walk home. Marko asked where we had been, and Chris explained our visa/bank situation.

Without hesitation, Marko stood up and said that he would show us where there was another branch of the same bank in the city center. We all walked to the bank together and discovered that the central branch was open until 8:00pm! Marko opened the door and announced that he would stay with us and help us try to open an account. I did not want to inconvenience him, so I said we would try to open an account on our own. Nope, he was not going to let us go it alone. He quickly found the appropriate person and explained our visa/bank situation. There were a lot of phone calls, questioning looks, and hurried questions in Serbian. I tried to grab a few words here and there, and realized that even if I had gotten up on the table and danced a gig, or waved my hands all over the place, I would never have been able to communicate with the bank. No one at the bank spoke even broken English, but Marko was there, and he did what we could not do on our own.

After about an hour, I walked out of the bank with an account and all of the documents that the police had requested. We needed Marko. Without him, our trip to the bank would have resulted in a lot of frustration, tears and no bank account.

I kept thanking Marko over and over again. I thanked him so much that he stopped me and said, “Lana, PLEASE don’t thank me anymore. Please. It’s nothing really. Anyone would do that for you. I told you that we would help you with anything that you needed.”

And he meant it when he said it.

I know you hate to hear it, Marko, but thanks again! Thank you for reminding me of the importance of DOING what you say.