And, we're back...

Upon looking back through the last two years(!) of blog posts, I was surprised to see that neither Troy nor I seem to have mentioned the joys of getting our titres de sejour (residency permits). You hadn't noticed this absence? Not surprising. But here the mere mention of the phrase "visit to the commune" is enough to set any non-EU-citizen's eyes rolling and teeth on edge. While no residency-registering-process is great, our commune's is widely-agreed to be the worst in town. Such a subject might seem like an odd choice to mark our re-entry into the blogging world after a few weeks away. However, it is January and that means it is time for our annual state-mandated pilgrimage to the Maison Communale de Bruxelles to complete our paperwork and extend our right to stay. Step 1 in this process was this very morning in fact, and thus the topic is fresh on my mind. Step 1? Oh yes my friends. Don't let this seemingly innocent-sounding task fool you. Going to the commune is like battling through Dante's 9 circles of hell -- miles of lines, grumbling, shoving, ugly words, weeping and gnashing of teeth. Sounds like a story, no?

Our journey begins outside the maison communale (town hall) in the freezing pre-dawn blackness where you jockey for position in your first line of the day: the queue awaiting entry to the building, which officially opens at 7:30 am. Your placement in this first line is critical, so you have to arrive before 7 am or you're toast! This morning we were fortunate enough to be close to the front of the line and able to wait in the foyer, a boon on such a cold morning (-4℃). At 7:30, a security guard descends to let groups of about 10 at a time race up to the Third Floor - the Bureau of Strangers. (Well, ok, I suppose the more accurate translation is 'Bureau of Foreigners', but the French is 'Bureau des Étrangers', so you see where I get my preferred translation). Today, we were in the first group to ascend.

Having learned a trick or two from our previous FIVE visits, we were able to do some clever last second maneuvering coming off the turn out of the elevator, and thus made it to the front of the second line. This is the line in which you wait until 8:10 am, when the "Welcome" windows of the Bureau of Strangers open for the day. Once at the Welcome Window, you explain your reasons for visiting and are given a number, at which point you can relax somewhat. If you're lucky, you might even find a seat and sit down while you wait for the "Business" windows to open. Our guardian angel was in fine form this morning because, though some upstart Eastern European fellows cut in line and dove for Welcome Window #1, we scooted up to WW#2 and for the first time ever scored the coveted numbers 001 and 002!

At about 8:30 am, our numbers appeared on the board and up we went to wait at the window while a poor civil servant (who we have agreed has among the WORST jobs ever) worked on our permits. With each renewal they completely redo everything, including the ID cards and their hideous photographs. Several pages, signatures, and official-stamps later, we completed our business at about 9:15 am.

If you've been keeping track, today's visit took about 2.5 hours, which is a land speed record for our visits to the Maison Communale. But wait, aren't there more steps, you ask? Ah yes. Clever of you to notice. Now we have to await the visit from the police to verify that we still live together (they verify this anew every year) after which they send off an official report to the Commune. Then a few weeks later we get to do a REPEAT of this morning's routine, made only slightly less horrible because we go to the 2nd Floor - Bureau of Locals to pick up our new IDs. All this effort is good for one year...whereupon we do it all again. Ah bureaucracy, or bureaucrazy as I've now termed it. There's a reason why we need all the chocolate and beer...