What a day!

Technically, I’ve been living in this country sort of illegally.  I, along with many other PCVs, have not been able to get our registration cards.  Think of this card as the Azeri version of a driver’s license, a national ID card.  This registration card has been hard to obtain because the laws have been in flux since we arrived in country.  Peace Corps has been working on this issues tirelessly.

Finally I received a call from our Safety and Security officer (aka Superman) that I needed to go to the passport control desk in my town to complete the necessary paperwork so that I could receive this ID.  This process includes my landlady coming with me and showing her house papers and passport. 

Superman told me to go to this passport control desk at 9AM.  So a little after 9 my landlady and I head off to this office.  We arrive at the appropriate place and find that we are now in a line with about 15 other people in front of us.  All of these people are sitting (women) and standing (men) in a room about one and half times bigger than a standard US bathroom. 

At the front of this line there is a door.  After sitting and waiting and nothing happening for 10 minutes are so, I realize that no one is behind the door.  The person we are all waiting for has not yet arrived.  I text Superman.  Superman calls me back and tells me that he has just talked to the passport control chief and he will be there in maximum 5 minutes.  I relay this information to my landlady.

Over the next 30 minutes more and more people cram in this small space.  I happen to be sitting and at one point I thought a woman was going to sit on me.  For a typical american such that I am, my personal space was in a constant state of violation and I was doing my best to not leap up and run out of the room screaming like a crazy lady. 

So that you have the full picture:  The room is filled with 85% males, all of whom are wearing black everything.  It is the only style in Azerbaijan for guys.  The remainder are a smattering of young and older women some dressed nicer than others.  Since the room is small and there’s a lot of people in it, the air had a certain odor.  To use myself as an example, I have not showered in a week. 

Ok so there I am packed in like a sardine, waiting and waiting for this passport control guy to appear.  After 30 minutes I decided it is time to alert my Safety and Security Officer, superman, that I am still waiting.  After a minute or two superman calls me back.  He tells me that he is very mad at this passport control officer and tells me to leave immediately as he will arrange to have the necessary paperwork delivered to my house.  So I tell my landlady and we leave. 

I get about 15 steps down the street and superman calls and asks me to wait just one more minute.  He has just spoken again to the passport control chief and he is on his way.  So, we head back into the building.  Well at least we try.  Since we left, the guards have locked the building.  Now, I am standing outside the building with a pushy crowd of people behind me and doors that won’t open.  Again, I call superman to alert him that I am standing outside the building and can’t get in. 

He tells me to hand my phone to one of the guards.  So I start to knock on the glass doors and try to open them.  The doors are slammed in my face and they refuse to take my phone.  Superman tells me to wait.  After a few minutes superman calls me back and says that the passport control chief should come out right now to find me.

At this moment the doors of the building swing open and a flood of people push their way into the building.  My landlady and I let the first fierce wave by before walking in.  At about the same time a guy wearing a uniform yells who’s here from Peace Corps.  “Me!” I yell.  He gestures me to follow him.

I now follow him and my landlady through this crowd of people.  I am having to push my way through as if I am at a rock concert trying to work my way into the mosh pit.  As I get to the door, a man from the inside slams it on me.  I try to push my way and he slams it again.  Desperate to get in, I push back and slightly stumble in the room and say out loud and in English, “Idiots!”  Not my best moment, I realize.

At least I am in I think to myself.  The passport control guy takes my passport and pictures and looks at my landlady’s paperwork.  Then he hands my passport with pictures to a guy in uniform and gives him some instructions.  The passport control dude then tells us to follow the guy in the uniform.

I follow the uniform guy through the crowd of people and across the street to another office crowded with people.  The uniform guy pushes he way through the crowd and receives a blank form.  Then I follow him back across the street and go into another office, thankfully not so crowded.  (and yes I did just cross the street for an application form.)

Now, my documents and this blank form are handed to a nice young woman who proceeds to complete this application for me.  My landlady, who has also been along for the back and forth across the street adventure, is now asking this women a bunch of questions.  I am just standing there listening, when the women filling out my application form asks my landlady when I was born.  To which I reply in Azeri, the answer she was looking for.  The women looks at me with wide eyes and says “You speak Azerbaijani?”  I reply, “Well, not fluently, but I can tell you when I was born.”  Armed with the knowledge that this american can speak Azeri, this women proceeds to ask me some of the more typical, mundane questions.  Why are you here? Are you married? etc.  Luckily this questioning does not las long.

Now my application is completed and this women is telling my landlady that she must pay 10 AZN.  Peace Corps has made it clear that we are not to pay anything for this, so I say no. She says we must and so yet again I call superman.  Superman asks to speak to the women and after a brief conversations she confirms that this ID card is free.

Really, I wish this story ended here and if you are still reading this I am amazed, but there’s more.

Now this women hands all of the documents back to me and tells us to go back to the passport control office.  This means that I must once again push my way through this crowd of people.

Phew.  Through the crowd of people.  The Chief looks over the documents, asks if I speak Azeri and then tells me to sign the form.  Forms signed. I am done, I think.  Wrong!  He then tells us to go get photocopies made of my passport and Azeri visa, my landlady’s passport and house documents. 

Back through the crowd of people and across the street.  There’s no power so no way to make copies.  After a brief moment my landlady and I decided we could stand around all day waiting for the lights to turn on, so we head into the center of town.  After about a 15 minute walk we find a place to get our copies made.  We head back to the building, back through the crowded room and once again into the passport control office. 

The Chief takes my documents and tells me to return in one week. to pick up my ID.  We shall see!

My landlady states that she’s tired and is heading home.  I decide that  I need to get a coke and snickers bar.  After purchasing these items I too head home, tired.

I get home to discover that I do not have power nor gas.  I have no way to cook or stay warm, etc.  AND I am pretty darn sure the reason I don’t have these utilities is because my town has decided to dig up a street and plant palm trees.  What a day.

My power and gas did return around 5PM.

I’ll let you all know when I get my registration card.  Fingers crossed.

Enjoy your utilities!

hugs,

Jessica