Epic Visa Problems: RESOLVED!

Hold on everybody, because my visa problems just got fixed, which means the following story is going to be complicated, dirty, and filled with bureaucracy.

So.  When I first signed the contract with my host parents, they recommended that I get an au pair visa before flying out to the country.  You can always get a visa in-country, they said (and which I did in Konstanz), but getting one before you fly out is easier, less hassle, and you have time to maneuver if something goes wrong.  So I went on the German embassy website, gathered up all the information for an au pair visa, and started collecting documents, of which there were a shit ton.  To celebrate my soon-to-be new home, I was really really German about the whole process.  I had a checklist, I was motivated, and since the consulate recommended making your visa appointment 2-3 months in advance, I decided to be a perfectionist and make my appointment exactly 3 months ahead.

March 15, I headed out the New York City with all my documents carefully guarded in a book bag.  Everything at the embassy went most swimmingly, until the lady behind the counter said, "How long do you need a visa for?"  And I said, "A year."  "Well your visa will be for three months.  Once you arrive, take it to the town hall and they'll extend it into a year-long residence permit for you."  "Is that the way the system usually works?"  "Yes."  And that was that.  I paid $140 dollars for that shit.

While I was waiting for them to send my passport back to me, my mom and I decided to get the ball rolling on Portuguese citizenship, as a back-up plan.  So we hit up the Portuguese consulate in Newark a couple times, registered her marriage to my dad ($180 dollars), and then, as soon as my passport arrived, signed me up for a birth certificate (some $373) dollars.  My birth certificate didn't arrive in time, so my mom promised to ship it to me in Germany.

Once I arrived in Celle, I dutifully headed over to the town hall like a good overachiever, sans the host parents because they said my German skills were good enough.  I politely inquired about the location of the Foreigners Registration Office, headed up the stairs, and walked in.  And promptly got the second blackest look of my life (the first being Drooling Child from this post).  Which intimidated the crap out of me, really, because I walked in all smiles and cheerfulness.  The dude behind the counter was such a dick, I didn't know what to do with myself.  He was all snide comments and nastiness, but I filled out the paperwork in silence.  When I asked him to clarify a few questions, it was like asking the devil to turn the central heating on.  That is to say, he was not particularly helpful to the situation.

After I handed him my forms, he sat and stared at me in silence until I started to get nervous.  Clearly something was expected of me, but I didn't know what.  Finally he said, "You can go now."  And I said "Okay.  Is there anything else I have to do?"  "You mean you haven't registered with the city yet?"  "Well now that I know, I'm happy to do so.  Where do I go?"  He rolled his eyes and couldn't be bothered to explain, so I had to head back down the stairs to ask the kindly ladies at the information desk.

It was back up the stairs for me, where I drew a number and waited outside the offices. When it was my turn, I walked in, sat down, and got asked about a million questions, like is my family still alive and have my felonies been expunged yet.  After successfully gaining my city registration paper, I asked the lady a quick question: if I'm in the process of becoming Portuguese, how does the whole residence permit thing work, and who do I have to talk to?  I got ping pong balled back to another office...unfortunately, it was Dick Man's office.

The second I walked in, I discovered body snatchers from Mars had taken Dick Man away and replaced him with an alien really excited about doing Dick Man's job.  "Oh! Hello again!  My colleague just called over here to tell me you're actually Portuguese! Isn't that lovely?"  I was totally taken aback, really confused, and unable to think of anything other than how bad the alien was at masquerading as Dick Man.  "I'm not Portuguese yet," I said, "I need a residence permit as an American first."  "Oh sure sure, no problem! Here, just sit your pretty head down, fill out these forms, and my other colleague over there will process your residence permit, no problem!"  So I sat my pretty head down, filled out forms, and headed over to The Colleague.  "I need a residence permit."  "Sure.  We need two passport photos and 55 Euros."  55 Euros? That's a lot of dollars, which I had already paid for in New York.  "That can't be right," I said, "I already paid that for my visa.  The visa is supposed to extend into a residence permit, not be replaced my it.  I already paid for it, goddammit."  "No, it's still 55 euros," said The Colleague.  "I was told the visa would be extended into a valid residence permit."  "Not how it works."  "Can I run home and get the money?"  "Sure."  So I ran home and didn't actually come back.

Instead, I asked Host Mom what the fuck was going on, and why I'm being required to pay 55 euros for a residence permit I had already paid for.  She agreed that the whole situation was bullshit, and suggested I email the embassy in New York.  Which I did, and got a wonderfully German response: sorry you didn't know, but that's the way it is. So I responded along the lines of WTF, no one told me this, why the fuck then did I pay for a 3 month long au pair visa when I could have just entered the country on a free tourist visa, which, coincidentally, is also for three months?  And why was it explicitly told to me that my 140 dollars was for both a visa and a residence permit?  The response: sorry you didn't know, but that's the way it is.

Out of principle, I flat out refused to pay the 55 euros, and decided instead to attempt to get around the bullshit as a Portuguese citizen.  As promised, my mom shipped my Portuguese birth certificate out to me, and the second it arrived, I called up the embassy in Berlin.  I explained that I had just gotten the certificate, and wanted to get an ID card.  The guy asked me if I spoke Portuguese, and before I could responded, he spoke some sounds at me.  And I was like, "Um...quois?"  And that was it.  He flipped the fuck out at me over the telephone, telling me there was no way I was Portuguese. I said I had a birth certificate, and I had every right to an ID card.  He straight up told me that I was either lying, or I had falsified my birth certificate, because no consulate in the world would give me one if I couldn't speak the language.  I said clearly he knew, seeing as he worked at one, that there is no language test, and all you need is one Portuguese grandparent.  To which he responded: "Let me guess.  Your parents are Portuguese, you're American, and you thought you'd get citizenship so you could study here and fuck around and not be Portuguese."  "Something like that."  "Well you're wrong.  You may absofuckinglutely not have an ID card because ID cards are for the Portuguese, of which you are not.  So you can go to the consulate in Osnabrück and let them deal with you."  Then he hung up.

If you're me, when people are mean to you, you call your mother in tears, so that's what I did.  She makes this wonderful sound when she's irritated at something, which I can best render as "AUH."  "Mom!" I cried, "the guy in Berlin told me I wasn't Portuguese!  Which was so accurate but so mean."  "AUH," she said, "This is why I hate the Portuguese.  They're total jackasses."  "And my visa is going to expire and I'll get deported as soon as I get a parking ticket!"  "AUH.  No you won't.  You just need to take your birth certificate to a different consulate."  "They'll chop me up and eat me with the paella!"  "AUH.  No they won't.  Fucking Portuguese."  These are not direct quotes.

So I went online, and discovered that the consulate in Hamburg actually dealt with my area of Lower Saxony, even though they're two different states.  Which is good, because Osnabrück is really far away.  I called Hamburg to make an appointment.  No one picked up the phone. The next day, I called to make an appointment.  No one picked up the phone.  I called every day for two weeks, and not once did I speak to anything other than an answering machine.  Finally Host Mom said, "Your visa is expiring soon, I would just go and hope for the best."  So that's what I did.

My Hamburg adventures I have already documented here, but suffice to say it took two trips, and cost me, when all was said and done, about $140.  So...more expensive than the residence permit.  But less convenient.

Fast forward to today, when I took my ID card and two passport photos back to the town hall.  The (wonderfully kind) lady I dealt with typed some things, printed some things out, and then stamped them.  Then she handed me a pretty impressive sheet of paper, and said, "Do not lose this.  This paper says that you are an EU citizen, with all the rights to live here, work here, and study here.  You can officially do anything in Germany just as easily as a German.  As long as you're in Europe, you will never have to worry about a residence permit or a visa ever again.  Congrats!"

Ever since my birth certificate arrived, people have been asking me if I feel different.  I didn't actually feel different until I walked out of the town hall and did a little dance, because I felt like differently dancing. And then I got on my bike, knowing that my visa was expiring in 2 days but that I was in the clear to chill out in Europe-land for the rest of my goshdarn life, if I so felt like it. I have rights on two continents!  If something goes wrong and I don't pass my language test, I will not be kicked out of the country!  Portuguese citizenship, when all was said and done, ran me somewhere in the area of 700 dollars, but I never have to worry about red tape again.  And I will never have to pay for a visa again.  Hell, I don't even need a passport because you can flash the IDs at the border of EU states.  Which is priceless, really.

And that is the story of how the motherland came to my rescue, and my epic visa problems were finally resolved.  Boom, bitches.