The Bureacratic Brick Wall

They are the bane of every ex-pats existence; they cause insomnia, panic-attacks and all manner of stress-inducing symptoms. They can drive a tee-totaller straight to the hard liquor on the top shelf and even the most peace-loving tree-hugging hippy is likely to lose all sense of let's-get-along-ness and buy a sledge hammer!

Who are these vile creatures who will have you waking up in the dead of night expecting to find yourself hand-cuffed and in the back of an unmarked van heading for the harbour?
Yes, that's right, they are ladies and gentlemen of the City Hall!

I've lived in the Netherlands for almost 8 years. When I first came I was actually fooled into thinking that getting oneself registered into the system was as easy as pie. I flashed them my winning smile and a permanent work contract and with a stamp and a 'Dankjewel' they gave me my residence permit and a warm handshake and off I went to begin my life as an import-dutchie.

Through the years, however, I've discovered that it was all a carefully laid trap set to lure me into a false sense of belonging because in truth, they dont really want any of us to actually make the final step to becoming Dutch citizens...
This really didn't bother me at first. After all, I have been blessed with a British sense of humour and the laid-back attitude of a South African, so I'm a pretty easy going person and I tend to just go with the flow. A minor battle with the denizens of the 5th level of hell who just happen to sit behind the desks at City Hall was all just part of the fun of living in a foreign country.

But that was before I met my Prince Charming and decided to get married.

I am now, however, convinced that behind each desk at City Hall the following books lie, well-thumbed and well-worn:

How to Annoy Foreigners 101: A standard guide to confusing any poor sod who has been told by 5 different clerks that they are at the wrong desk.

1001 Very Difficult to Understand Legal Phrases: Especially useful for foreigners who can speak dutch.

Because I said so, that's why: A self-help book designed to help you become an obtuse civil servant with absolutely no sympathy for the person sitting in front of you.

Of course, all evidence of these texts is cleverly hidden, the truth will never come out and only a few of us are clued in to this conspiracy.

All I can say is: if you too have been sucked into the cycle of endlessly running around like a headless chicken trying to accumulate the hundred and eleven documents the law insists you produce (but only in certain circumstances of course because the others dont require even half of them), take heart. You are not alone and your local support group can be found at the nearest English/Irish pub in the Hague merrily drinking her way through a pint or three :)