Thursday, July 31, 2008

Today I went back to the Auslanderbehorde with my friend Nicky. Not to get my work visa but to get an appointment to get my work visa. We saw the inside of a multitude of waiting rooms. I'm beginning to like watching the screen, it's like a numerical lava lamp.
In between the floors there was this netting that looked like it was supposed to prevent people from jumping and killing themselves. Either that, or the Auslanderbehorde is taking a tongue-in-cheek approach to the convergence of playground materials and suicide.
It was so perverse and "Kafkaesque."
While we waited, Nicky played Sonic the Hedgehog on his phone and I fidgeted nervously, imagining all kinds of German FrauDominatrixes that would slice my body with papercuts using giant thick folders imprinted with outstanding rules and loopholes.
*I also envisioned a lady with one of those commie mullets (think Billie Jean King) and a large branding iron that incised the German equivalent of "You're Going to Prison!" onto my chest.

Anyhow, it went fairly well. There was one woman who was nice and one guy who was kind of an ass. They looked at all my documents and said that I would probably get the work visa on the 18th of August (when my appt. is) as long as I get....private German health insurance.
Fuck me. I know this is the last thing I have to do, but what the fuck. I have insurance firstly (at least until sept.) and it works abroad. Nobody alerted me to this particular rule.
Anyway, this has been such a hassle that I am definitely going to do it and stay.

Germany, you will have me as your sassy, slightly amoral wife--whether you like it or not. I will eat your bratwurst, I will drink your bier, but I will not let you "slither into my ass" (this is a direct translation of an expression in Germany, one that my friend Willi used when describing Obama's speech: "Obama slithered into Berlin's ass").

*Also, I got a more permanent residence in what's called "Kreuzkolln," which is on the border of Kreuzberg and Nuokolln. My roomie is a Parisian/Italian woman named Ana Lucia, who is in acting school and has a few stories to tell I think. My new apartment is so "Berlin." It kind of looks like an old-timey submarine. There's a balcony. And some fake marble. And no furniture. And the ghost of a one-eyed seafaring man.

No comments: