Outsider

 

Outsider

It has a been a week since we moved. It has also been a week since we braved the local Rathaus to register. An unduly trip which didn't do much for the both of us. He left with his registration and I was directed to email for permission to register as an outsider. I guess my consolation prize was a roll of gelbe sacken. I am still reeling from wasting that energy going there to be politely insulted. As we departed from that miserable place, I was asked about how nice they were. Indeed they were nice, even to both of us but they didn't seem to account for all meanness I was subjected to to get this far. This is now the fifth time someone has been so-called nice but it resorted in nothing for me. I have been to six different government offices pertaining to living in Germany and only one was successful AND nice. I recently jumped through the hoops of getting a Niederlassungelaubnis. I waited months for it, sending emails back and forth, spending another sum for biometric photos and when I finally got it I was so over it I actually forgot to put it in my wallet. I am carrying it now but what difference does it make when I can't even register as required alongside my husband. We were told we had two weeks to do it anyways and with the pandemic no one would honestly come checking. Insert eye roll here. Basically, had we sat on our hands everything may have went according to plan but because we were proactive we pay for it. This is literally the German way for everything. Arrive early to wait longer. Dress up only to be surrounded by people in cheap denim and puffy vests. Wait in line only for some asshole to cut in front of you. I perform to German standards time and time again only to be disappointed. 

My husband also needed to renew his ausweis. They also said they couldn't do two services in one appointment so therefore it wasn't a waste of time. They could easily assist him with that once we return back to get me squared away. I guess it is better than the past. We already had the shitty incident of him being registered as married and me single because our marriage license was in English. We were scammed thinking this magical apostille we paid for would solve that. Nope. They needed a translated copy to acknowledge that I belonged to him and therefore belonged to the same address. While I sat there with all my painstakingly changed documents with my new last name I was given everything in my maiden. I had to sign things in my former name with a ring on my finger. I was in limbo like this for several weeks as he remained married to some invisible person. Fast forward to now we live here, sleep in the same bed and people can acknowledge that he legally has a right to be here. I don't. So what was all that language learning and hoop jumping for really? I had to ask about my dog. I mean if I cannot register my address one can only assume the dog belonging to me is also an outsider eh? Bad enough after a year of riding every train under the sun I was forced to buy a 30€ ticket for her recently. Even then I jokingly asked after being stiffed, "Should I check her into a seat now?". I mean if you keep asking me to do stupid, ass backwards things I have no choice but to play along. 

Thankfully, my experience in this village thus far has been really good. It is amusing to see how much of a 180 it is in comparison to what people deem the most progressive city next to Berlin. I am enjoying things without asking for English or using the "I am new here" card. I am generally having an authentic experience as someone who has the basics to integrate and be successful. I am navigating. I am conversing. I am running errands. I am getting out. But in the back of my head I keep thinking in this sweet town with all of these wonderful people one of them told me I wasn't welcome just yet. I keep thinking I left my house full of boxes and separated from my confused pets for someone to tell me I wasted my time. I was trying to do the right thing and came prepared along with my husband to be told only him, not you. And while he is the one sending off the email for permission, I feel tasked. For I am the burden and the problem. Did I do something wrong ... again? How can I avoid this next time? What am I doing where I can never be accepted? Why was this time different than the last and the time before that. I am struggling with the notion that this will continue to happen no matter what color card I have. And I am also thinking I don't need this shit. There is a place I can go to where everyone gets the same damn thing and no one emails or snail mails anything. What makes me so different than anyone else that comes here, pays for things and contributes to society? Exactly what permission is required only for me? Do I get the same welcome bag too? Does someone apologize for my wait? Better yet, when we get finished jumping through these hoops I bet someone says that this is not how this works at all. And that would actually make me feel better when the intention is to make me feel even more unwelcome. I would respond with a masked smile, "komisch", but what I actually mean is "fuck you" with a hard f. At least I will get what it is I asked for. 

* s n a t c h e s *

Now, gimme my cheap muslin bag of local tchotchkes ... and another gelbe sacke rolle!