The Romanian Visa Paradox - VI

PART VI – The Romanian Money Machine Paradigm

As I had bought a two way ticket in Ploiesti, I had just the ticket to board the train but I didn’t have the ticket for a seat so in Arad I had to go to the ticket vendors and request one, which cost me around 20.000 Lei (2 Ron) at the time.

While I was at the platform waiting for the train a gypsy couple arrived at the platform carrying 2 huge bags each. The lady stayed at the platform and the man went back and forth inside the station and out and brought several more huge bags, probably full of Hungarian products to be sold at the open market in Romania. 

As the train stopped I realized they were going to board the same car as I was supposed to board. The lady run to one of the car entrances and yelled at her husband to run to the other one and the two of them proceeded to load their cargo in the car, preventing other people from boarding. The lady kept screaming in Roma language to her husband at the other extremity of the car all the time. I was trying to board the car and she kept pushing me aside with her big bags. I finally snapped at her “What the fuck, lady! Let other people board the train!” She looked at me with her wild eyes. Then she started screaming at me in Roma language and reapeating “Ei waddafack! Ei waddafack!”

            When I finally boarded there was a French girl in the compartment where I had my seat. She said she was travelling from Paris to Bucharest. 

            A few minutes after the train left Arad the conductor came in to check the tickets. He checked mine and everything was in order. He checked hers and explained to her that she had to buy the ticket for the seat as she had only the ticket to board the train. She asked him how much and he typed some numbers in his pocket calculator and showed it to her and whispered: “In Euro”.

            After he left I asked her how much did he charge her and she said 50 euro.

            That’s 108 times what I paid for exactly the same ticket. Don’t you just love the Romanian money machine?

            I finally got home and in the next day I called the Consul in Budapest. He picked the phone and asked me “why didn’t you come? I was expecting you!”

            I told him I ended up going to Szeged, to which he said sarcastically: “Ahaaaa… You went to Szeged, eh? And tell me, did you get your visa?”

            When I told him that I didn’t, he said: “I knew you wouldn’t get it because I know the consul from Szeged. He thinks that Romanian immigration laws are the same as US laws and he has to protect Romanian borders from the “Mexicans” trying to enter the country.”

            I told him about the consul’s definition of minimum salary per economy and he laughed saying “He’s crazy…”

            Anyway, he told me to go over to Budapest next week and he will give me the visa.

The Romanian Visa Paradox - III

PART III - The Immigration Officer Collision

       I finally got my marriage certificate and went to the immigration office to require my residence.
This time the officer was a man. I explained to him that I wanted to request a residence visa. 

       He then starts lecturing me that I can't request the visa in Romania. I have to request it in the Romanian Consulate in Japan.

        I try to explain to him that obviously that was the case for Japanese citizens requesting a visa BEFORE coming to Romania. But I am already living in Romania for months. I got married in Romania and I even have an apartment in Romania.

        He puts on his communist "Aici eu sunt cel mai tare si mai mare" face and warns me that as a foreign citizen I have no rights quoting Romanian law to him.

        I then tell him that his colleague that I talked to last month told me that I can obtain the residence visa right there. He asks me who was it. I told him that I don't know the name but it was a lady. He then tells me that as HE is older than HER, therefore it is HIS word that counts, not hers. I asked him if the immigration laws change according to the age of the person who interprets it and he pretends he didn't hear me but if looks could kill I would be fulminated on spot.

        Then I told him that the Romanian Consul in Japan told me that I can request a residence visa at the local immigration office. He then argues that the Consulate is a completely different Ministry. Then I ask him if the immigration laws change according to the Ministry. He then snaps in a very Romanian style: "LOOK! YOU need ME. I don't need YOU!! If you want this visa YOU do whatever I tell you to do!!"

        Well, as I can't stand this kind of self-centered, self-conceited assholeness I then ask him: "How much is the bribe that you want? NO, I am NOT asking you if you are expecting a bribe because it is VERY OBVIOUS that you want one. So just tell me how much you want and let's get over with it".

        Apparently these kind of self-conceited assholes have trouble facing the truth when it is put like that so he had security escort me out of the premises :-))

        I called the Brazilian Consulate and talked to the Consul and explained to him what happened and he explained to me that the Brazilian government can't do anything about it because in immigration cases the country has absolute power and in the special case of Romania, the immigration officers are famous for abusing of it. “If the Romanian immigration officer doesn't like the color of your shirt he can refuse to give you the visa and he has no obligation to explain the reasons to you or to his superiors so they have fun abusing of this power.” 

        Those were the words of the Brazilian Consul.

        He also suggested me to go to Hungary to get the visa because Brazil and Hungary had just recently signed a diplomatic agreement that allows Brazilian citizens to enter Hungary without requesting a visa at the consulate and vice-versa.

        My wife tried to pull some strings. Her boss has some very high connections among Ploiesti politicians and he called the immigration officer to ask him a favor in the name of the mayor of Ploiesti. And his answer was: "If you're talking about that Japanese that was here this morning, tell him that even if he gets the president of Romania call me he won't get his visa here!!!" :-))

        My wife then started pulling some more strings and she got one Cristina, the niece of a friend of the cousin of the wife of the parrot of some high politician, who works for the Ministry of Internal Affairs to ask the Romanian Consul in Szeged to give me the visa as a favor to the great-grand-nephew of a friend of the gardener of the cousin of the wife of the minister. Well, it wasn't exactly like this but I don't understand Romanian string pulling system so to me it was all the same.

        I thought this was getting more complicated than it was necessary so I decided to call the Romanian Consulate in Budapest to ask for information and I ended up talking to the Consul himself. I explained my situation and he was very sympathetic because he knows what kind of abuse of power goes on in the Romanian system. So he told me to just come over to Budapest the he will give me the visa.

        In that same day my wife came from work with her "good news" that the Consul in Szeged said he will see what he can do for me. 

        I told her that I had just talked to the Consul in Budapest himself and he promised me for sure that he will get me the visa. She then argued that as she pulled A LOT of strings to get me this opportunity to get it in Szeged that I should go with HER plan. 

       Anyway she pissed me off so much with this argument that she worked a lot for me to get this visa that I won't dare not go to Szeged to get it that I told her that I will do it. But if it goes wrong I will NEVER, EVER forgive her for it. 

        Yes, this Romanian bullshit was pissing me THAT much.

Tell me why I don't like Mondays...

         (Originally posted on Apr 23, 2007 - 07:50) 

         Another Crash moment today. (For those who don't know what I mean, I am referring to the movie Crash. I use to call the racist problems that I face in my everyday life "Crash moments") 

         Every month I have to pay my rent at the ING Bank in Eroilor. For some mysterious reasons I can only pay it at Eroilor agency. And I have to deposit it in dollars. 

         I had most of the rent money already in dollars but I need 5 dollars more. So this morning I went to an exchange booth down on Stefan Cel Mare. The one where I usually exchange was still closed so I went to the next one which is just a few meters around the corner. 

         When I arrived there, there were two old men inside the 0.7x0.7m booth so I just waited outside. And waited... and waited... They saw me there waiting but just ignored me. And they were talking to the girl inside the booth and smoking (in that very confined space). And I waited... A lady came after me and asked me if I am waiting for long and I said yes, for a few minutes. She waited a while. got impatient and opened the door and asked if they are going to take long. Only then they finally "realized" that the people waiting outside are customers. Duuh! What would we be doing standing at the door of an exchange booth? And it turned out that the two men were security guards of the exchange company, not customers, and they were there just chatting with the exchange girl. By the time they came out of the booth the lady who was behind me had given up and left. I should have done the same... 

         I finally enter the booth, told the girl that I wanted to buy 5 dollars. She asked me for my ID. She took it, looked at it, fliped it, looked at it again, flipped it again and started entering the date in the computer. When she came to the ID number she got confused because the number format is different from the normal buletin. Then she gave me the ID back and said: "We can't sell dollars to you."

         I asked why and she said: "Because you're foreigner"
         Then I said "What is this? Racism?" to which she answers "No! It's not racism. I just can't sell dollars to foreigners, only to Romanian citizens"

         Hellooooo?
         I asked her "Why not?" And she says "this is the rule".
         I insisted: "What is the reason why you can't sell to foreigners?"
         "No reason, it's just the rule"
         "And it is NOT racism?"
         "No! It's the rule!" 

         So, isn't this racism? You don't have to believe me. The American Heritage Dictionary, for example gives this definition to Racism: "Discrimination or prejudice based on race." And the WorldNet online dictionary gives us this one: "discriminatory or abusive behavior towards members of another race "

         I don't know about you but "I can't sell dollars to you because you're foreigner" and "I can't sell dollars to foreigners, only to Romanian citizens" sounds like discrimination to me and the specification "you are foreigner" and "only to Romanian Citizens" suggests that this discrimination is based on racial difference, no? I tried to argue but it was like trying to reason with a cassette player stuck on "it's the rule" loop. 

         By the time I gave up the other exchange house was open. This is the exchange booth where I usually do my business and the lady who used to be there knows me by name. But this time it was another one so just in case I asked her if she sells to foreigners and she said "Of course!!" And I tried to explain what happened at the booth next door and she didn't even let me finish, saying that she knows because this problem happens everyday in that booth.

         So I asked for 5 dollars. And in the most rigamarolish way, she announces me that "In the chapter of dollars I am sorry to tell you that I have only these:" and she showed me some bills of 100s, 50s and 20s and of course no 5s. 

         By then the banks were already open so I went to the Transylvania bank, asked for the fiver. The lady tells me it will cost me "o suta doispe". I may not be an expert in Romanian language but I am very sure that this means "112". So I put 120 on the counter. The lady looks at the money, looks at me and wait. When she realizes I am not going to take any more money out of my wallet she looks indignated and tells me in a raised voice: "Am zis O SUTA DOISPE!!", to which I ask "Si cat am dat??" She looks at the money on the counter again. Her eyes open in such a way that you can read "oops!" behind the pupils and without blinking, without hesitating, without the normal "I'm sorry. My mistake" she shoots: "Pai, e o suta douazeci si patru!! (124)". 

         Huh? Hellooooo? I don't see how that was MY mistake (I mean, besides moving to Romania. Don't get me started on it!) so I don't see why should I be yelled at!

         I finally got my fiver. I took the metro to Eroilor. In the train, in front of me there was a lady. She opened her bag, pulled out a bunch of official looking documents and forms. Checked them against her mental list, put them in a big envelope. Then she opened a supermarket bag, pulled a big red slab of Elita Coffee, rolled the envelope around it and put the package in her bag.

         I don't know who I hate more: the officials who demand spaga or the idiots who offer them. Both. But maybe the second a little more. And then I had recollections of the many times that I had to go to Hungary to get my romanian visa because I refused to be part of this spaga mafia. 

         Mondays are always Mondays. But some Mondays are more Mondays than others.

         "I want to shoo... ooot the whole day DOWN!!"