The Official ID Card, part two

Today I decided to take all the necessary papers for the infamous ID card to Suceava to run the gauntlet again. I didnt think to take a picture of it all until it was too late so I have decided to include some of the traffic issues we passed on teh way to and from Suceava. Note the cart passing the cart and the sheep in the road. Mu favorite one is this one - there is a season for horse and carts in the city!!

I have my insurance booklet from Fulbright because they didn't think a Blue Cross card would do anything, even though I know they are better than whatever the Romanian system offers and I did my homework. I know exactly what to do in case I need to use it. For the record, it is good in Europe. I have a lease made out by the notary with a huge gold seal on it. I have my actual passport. I have an official, authorized, signed, sealed and embossed certificate that I am a non-paid teacher at Grupa Scolar Alexandru cel Bun Skoala in Gura Humorului. I have a notice from Fulbright and the US Department of State that I really am posted here for the academic year. I have the 3 lei tax receipt I had to get. I have a description of what I am doing here and what taxes I have to and do not have to pay from Fulbright. I have the 1 leu tax stamp that I have to have from the post office.

I have a huge four-page health report that describes my perfect health in great detail which I take with me. It has been approved by the US State Department and has the appropriate signatures and accompanying documents. I take it with me the following day at school to take to the school doctor. I have heard about this part of the process from a teacher who was on the same program last year in Sibui. She said that shortly after school began, she had to be examined by the school doctor before they would allow her to work. The health documents were necessary for her. I know there is a doctor here at school because a student asked to go to the doctor once. The office is in yet another building. I enter a dark, unlit hallway with used furniture piled up all along one side. There is hardly room to pass through. At the end of the corridor is a tiny room which is the doctor's office. It is full of stacks of paperwork and boxes. There is a small desk with more papers and several coffee cups. Two women in white lab coats occupy the office. When I arrive, they are all flustered asking if I would like a cup of coffee. I decline and thrust my paperwork at them, asking if they can give me a bona fide certificate of health. The younger of the two waves away my papers and finds a tiny pad of newsprint forms. There is more information on a hall pass. She fills in my name and the date and then signs it. She must rummage in the desk for the official seal of the school which she then affixes to the form and hands it to me.

find the nurses who give me a clean bill of health. They seem to know that I teach English and am from America. Everyone seems to know that. I guess the fact that I cannot speak Romanian as yet makes it a bit obvious. In five minutes, I have a tiny form all filled out, signed, and stamped with the official school stamp.

Mihai faxed the appropriate paperwork to the school so I imagine that it needs to be made official with the official school stamp and signatures. I will pick that up, too.

I collect all the Fulbright insurance paperwork along with my Blue Cross/Blue Shield card. I need to photocopy my passport and the page with my entry stamp on it. Interesting bit of trivia – no one here will photocopy anything. There are some shops that do it for an astronomical fee which is the only option.

A lease in Romania is a very complicated issue. It is not legal to make a lease between two parties unless a notary draws up the lease. There are more taxes and fees to be paid. The notary needs a copy of my passport so I bring back the the one that is too dark. Fortunately, he takes it after seeing the actual passport. I do not sign the lease. It makes me wonder what else I might be liable for that I may not know about.

I will have to pay the one tax I am liable for, and then head back to Suceava for round two. Somehow I have a feeling there will be more.

I now have a photocopy of the front page and my last entry into Romania page of my passport. Nobody here photocopies anything for you. You have to do it yourself for a fee. The first copy is too dark. I have to pay for it and the next one that is the one I will use.

The 3 lei tax was the most frustrating part of the process. At first no one seemed to know where to take care of it, but finally, the consensus was that the tax authority in town was the proper place to go. I set out with my 3 lei to pay the tax. Keep in mind that 3 lei is a little more than a dollar. I walked from school to the tax authority building and up to the window on the first floor. I waited for the woman in front of me to finish her business. When it was my turn, I explained what I needed and was sent upstairs to another window. This is a relatively new building. It is very pretty and has a marble staircase. A brand-new marble staircase that is extremely slippery. At the top a uniformed gentleman who spoke only Romanian explained that I needed to go to the building with the clock tower which he pointed out from the window. I walked back to town and over to the building with the clock tower. It is the building that houses the police department. Cristina had brought me there to do this during the summer but they said it was too soon because I wasn't really there as yet. I went to the same office we had gone to then. The policeman at the desk tried to send me back to the tax authority but I told them I had already been there and they had sent me here. The five of them conferred, made phone calls, and then I went to the other end of the station with some other officers for more conferring. Finally, it was decided after another call to Suceava and a discussion with more policemen that I should indeed go back to the tax authority building. One of the officers accompanied me. He spoke decent English and so we talked a bit about places in Romanian that I should see before I leave next year. We arrived at the tax authority and the same gentleman who had originally sent me to the clock tower building had a discussion with the policeman in Romanian and they decided that I should go to the other side of the police station to City Hall and pay the 3 lei there. We walked back and went to the front of the building this time. Inside there was a lady who made a few phone calls, asked her colleagues and finally they determined that it was indeed the tax authority who should take the 3 lei tax. Back we trudged. Keep in mind that I had chosen today to wear an extremely high pair of shoes with tiny spiked heels. This time we talked about his upcoming nuptials and their life plans. It seems he will be moving to Cluj in a year as that is where his fiance lives and works. Upon arriving back at the tax authority, we went upstairs again and I was finally able to pay the tax. Of course, first I had to identify myself in triplicate. I thanked the policeman and headed for Suceava.

I did not anticipate that this was going to be easy, but it was worse this time than last time. I am completely at their mercy. First the woman in the office was busy taking someone's picture and brusquely asked us to wait outside. We did. Finally, a gentleman we had seen the last time popped his head into the office and then told us she wouldn't be long. Then a young man came by to see how he could help. He seemed to know what he was doing and took some of the paperwork and went into his office. For the next half hour, he and several others held a heated discussion. They went back and forth, from one office to another, carrying manuals and pointing to various paragraphs. Apparently, there are no laws that specifically mention Fulbright and so it becomes an issue. Most Americans who come here are Peace Corps volunteers, but they have never had a Fulbright here in Suceava. They are familiar with the Peace Corps situation as the volunteers actually get paid and it is discussed in their contracts and apparently in the law books also. The paperwork I have from Fulbright, of course, does not mention salary as there is none. This is the quandary. They simply do not understand the concept of being paid at home. The exchange program is completely beyond them.

I am not sure who won, but eventually he came out. He asked about my insurance information. Last time, the man nearly threw my Blue Cross card at me and so I left it at home. I had brought the Fulbright insurance packet that they wanted instead. It seems they are inordinately afraid that I will get deathly ill and have to use their health system and they want to be absolutely sure that I will be able to pay for it. I give him the Fulbright booklet and certificate again and again. He does not want this but he wants the Blue Cross card. I call Mihai again and they talk and then the officials go around and around about this for another twenty minutes. He comes back out and says they will accept what I have, BUT…

There doesn't seem to be a written list of what they require to issue this temporary identity card. I would be happy to collect and bring whatever they ask for, but each official seems to have a list of items that does not correspond to any other list. My only saving grace is that I continue to refer to the list I was given last time. That seems to hold some weight. Maybe it is the number of times you trot over here and wait in their very uncomfortable chairs. It is like being in a college dorm again. The furniture in this building has seen much better days. The stuffed chairs have lost their stuffing and so are very lumpy and the seat is almost on the floor. This puts me at a distinct disadvantage as it is a long way down, and it seems to be an even longer way up. The two tables in the waiting room are leftovers from somebody's living room. Any finish they ever had is long gone. All four pieces of furniture are jammed into the corner of the hallway between the offices. It is nearly impossible to pass by them even if no one is sitting in them.

Now they are having issues about how I will pay for my room and board. It seems impossible to them that I would not be getting paid by someone in Romania and therefore I will be living on the streets in no time. It seems they do not want anymore street people. I explain over and over that I am still being paid by my American school and that I have plenty of money. They are not satisfied. I tell them I will bring up my bank account and it will show a paycheck being deposited every two weeks. They are not interested. They want a contract that says I am not being paid in Romania and am being paid in the US. Of course, this is an impossibility as there is no such thing. Who would write a contract to say there is no money passing into my hands? Again I show them the paperwork from Fulbright that says my travel ad shipping expenses will be covered but nothing else. That is not enough. They are certain that I am getting paid somehow from Romania. This goes on for quite some time. I want to tell him that just one of my paychecks is more than he makes in a year but I don't want to insult him. I probably will have to go back to square one if I do that. I tell him several times that I was here two weeks ago and that I have brought everything I was asked to bring. I ask him what else I will need as I will be happy to mail it to him or bring more paperwork back, but that there is no contract that says no one in Romania is paying me.

Finally, he leaves again and brings the application out for me to fill in.

There is an area where I have to put my parents' full names, including my mother's maiden name. I imagine this is so they have someone to call if things go awry. I decide this is not the time to tell them that I take care of my mom and my dad has been gone for eight years. Neither one of them is going to come to my rescue. I also know that Romania is one of the highest identity theft and credit card scam countries in the world. No wonder when the government is asking for the very information that I am supposed to keep secret from just about everyone. They never asked for proof that my mother's maiden name was Jones. I will never say different.

Finally, I make it past this official and move into the camera lady's office. It starts all over again. It is all about the money. They simply cannot get their heads around the fact that I have money and won't be using their medical facilities or welfare system. After another round of discussions about where my money is coming from and that I will be able to eat just fine, I am finally allowed to have my picture taken for the official ID card. This is a temporary ID card. Can you imagine what they would want if it was permanent???

Finally, she gets the picture taken. Of course, it looks like a mug shot but I am not going to argue at this point. One of the other officials asked where my picture was when he perused the paperwork. I told him that no one had asked me to bring one and so I did not have one. Now they are taking an official picture. I am not going to ask.

There is no fee for this card which is surprising. I am sure they will think of that when I return in thirty days to pick it up.

At the hitchhiking corner they have added a fence. It is probably to discourage the practice but it is not working. There is no other way to get there from here except an 8pm train.