We are currently without the use of our car. There's nothing wrong with it, we just aren't allowed to drive it at the moment because we haven't been able to register it for this year. We haven't been able to do that because our visa hasn't been extended yet. So we are waiting for someone in Sarajevo to stamp a bit of paper and send it back to Tuzla. This will, apparently, have to be done in the next 6 weeks. Because apparently it is really time consuming to stamp a piece of paper and pop it in the post.
So our perfectly serviceable car sits in the drive mocking us, as we become acquainted with the Tuzla cabs, buses and I drag the boys kicking and screaming through the rain on foot. It isn't that much of a problem, we walk to and from nursery, we shop in local shops and the cabs are frequent and cheap. But it is getting me down not being able to use the car. We can't take the dog for proper walks as there is nowhere within walkable distance to let her off the lead. I hadn't realised what an important part of my day the dog walk was. Not only did it exercise dog, but it took the brunt of the energy levels off the boys, killed an hour and a half of the afternoon and kept everyone excited with changes of scene.
I feel trapped. The weather is horrid, we are stuck in the house and all have a bad case of cabin fever. I can't do any more jigsaws, bake any more cakes, glue any more bits of paper. I'm bored of it. And so are the boys. We want to go and fight dragons in the woods, track dinosaurs, practice throwing and run down hills too fast.
Think I might go shout at some Bosnian officials later. It won't do any good but it might help me rid myself of some intense frustration.
******* Update *********
Just when I thought I couldn't get any grumpier... the circuit in the kitchen keeps fusing which is shorting the radio and FAR more seriously is preventing the kettle from brewing a cup of tea. And it's snowing. I am officially cross. There might be stomping involved and behaviour of which my 3 year old is embarrassed.
Showing posts with label Bosnian residency visas. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Bosnian residency visas. Show all posts
Thursday, 4 March 2010
Thursday, 5 November 2009
The Red Red Tape Series
There aren't many things that I can say that I am an expert on. My chocolate brownies are really awesome (email me for the recipe). I have a specialised knowledge of which toys can be thrown furthest and do the most damage to the walls. I am extremely good at getting the maximum discounts in any sales that TOAST do (80% off people, expect nothing less). And now I have a new speciality: Bosnian Bureaucracy. Or more specifically Bosnian bureaucracy pertaining to expats. In Tuzla. It's a skill I shall be adding to my CV.
Dave keeps mentioning that I ought to write a post detailing the steps that need to be taken to obtain visas and import cars into this country. We would have found something like that really useful. But the thing is, it just doesn't make for very interesting reading. There is only so many times that I can write about the times we went to the police station and had to wait for hours and the boys went a bit loopy and ran dementedly up and down the corridors only to be told off by grumpy men who have nothing better to do than drink coffee and smoke cigarettes. There isn't much of a post in we took every single piece of documentation that we have to the notary and parted with a lot of money to get something stamped, only to have to do it again for a different ministry 2 weeks later. There have been some real high (low) lights of this process; our trip to the hospital to get the medical tests and the battle with the bureaucrats over our birth certificates both merited posts all of their own.
The most recent clash with the system has been getting our car temporarily imported. This has involved a trip to the nearest border (and associated 3 hour wait), a separate trip to a specialised import place which showed me a whole new part of Tuzla that I never even knew existed and surrendering all our documents to the police whilst we wait for the final licence plates to arrive (and being told that we are not to drive the car outside of Tuzla town until we get the documents back). We worked out the other day that it would have cost us less money AND taken less time to drive to the UK, re-register the car there and drive back to Tuzla. And we could have loaded the car up with chocolate hobnobs and mango chutney whilst we were at it.
Finally though, finally, we have heard that our new Bosnian plates are ready. I just have to go and pick them up. And that will be it. We have all the documentation that we need. It has only taken us 15 months of constant work to do it, but we defeated them in the end. This was great news and we may have been spotted dancing about the house last night singing Red Red Tape in the style of UB40, whilst waving around glasses of the more appropriate red wine in excitement. I'm not holding my breath just yet, we still need to get the actual plates on the car and there is always the Bosnian capacity to throw a final spanner into the works just when you think you have made it, but we are hopeful, nay giddy with excitement at the prospect of reaching the end of this road.
Everything expires in February. We have to start the whole process again after Christmas.
PS - if anyone reading this does want more information on importing a car into Bosnia, obtaining a Bosnian Residency Visa, setting up a company in BiH feel free to email me. We feel your pain already.
Dave keeps mentioning that I ought to write a post detailing the steps that need to be taken to obtain visas and import cars into this country. We would have found something like that really useful. But the thing is, it just doesn't make for very interesting reading. There is only so many times that I can write about the times we went to the police station and had to wait for hours and the boys went a bit loopy and ran dementedly up and down the corridors only to be told off by grumpy men who have nothing better to do than drink coffee and smoke cigarettes. There isn't much of a post in we took every single piece of documentation that we have to the notary and parted with a lot of money to get something stamped, only to have to do it again for a different ministry 2 weeks later. There have been some real high (low) lights of this process; our trip to the hospital to get the medical tests and the battle with the bureaucrats over our birth certificates both merited posts all of their own.
The most recent clash with the system has been getting our car temporarily imported. This has involved a trip to the nearest border (and associated 3 hour wait), a separate trip to a specialised import place which showed me a whole new part of Tuzla that I never even knew existed and surrendering all our documents to the police whilst we wait for the final licence plates to arrive (and being told that we are not to drive the car outside of Tuzla town until we get the documents back). We worked out the other day that it would have cost us less money AND taken less time to drive to the UK, re-register the car there and drive back to Tuzla. And we could have loaded the car up with chocolate hobnobs and mango chutney whilst we were at it.
Finally though, finally, we have heard that our new Bosnian plates are ready. I just have to go and pick them up. And that will be it. We have all the documentation that we need. It has only taken us 15 months of constant work to do it, but we defeated them in the end. This was great news and we may have been spotted dancing about the house last night singing Red Red Tape in the style of UB40, whilst waving around glasses of the more appropriate red wine in excitement. I'm not holding my breath just yet, we still need to get the actual plates on the car and there is always the Bosnian capacity to throw a final spanner into the works just when you think you have made it, but we are hopeful, nay giddy with excitement at the prospect of reaching the end of this road.
Everything expires in February. We have to start the whole process again after Christmas.
PS - if anyone reading this does want more information on importing a car into Bosnia, obtaining a Bosnian Residency Visa, setting up a company in BiH feel free to email me. We feel your pain already.
Friday, 3 July 2009
Officially Residents of Bosnia & Herzegovina
We did it! We have successfully negotiated the complex labyrinthine procedures that make up getting a residency visa here. Admittedly it is only temporary. Also admittedly mine hasn't actually come through yet but it should just be a formality.
So, this is a process that started back in mid August last year. It has involved a lot of visits to the police station, a visit to the hospital for a fun family day out, a lot of visits to the Advocat, many visits to official court translators and a lot of money (100KM / £40ish to translate a wedding certificate the most recent example).
So, now we don't have to go to Serbia every three months. We don't need to go back to the police station every 3 months. We can do things like import our car.
The kicker? It is only temporary. It expires February 2010 when we shall have to do most of the admin all over again if we want to stay any longer. Better make a start.
*******
Want more expat mummy stories? The Expat Mums Blog site, a blog written by expat parents for expat parents is holding a carnival today - head on over there for more tales of bringing up kids in another country.
So, this is a process that started back in mid August last year. It has involved a lot of visits to the police station, a visit to the hospital for a fun family day out, a lot of visits to the Advocat, many visits to official court translators and a lot of money (100KM / £40ish to translate a wedding certificate the most recent example).
So, now we don't have to go to Serbia every three months. We don't need to go back to the police station every 3 months. We can do things like import our car.
The kicker? It is only temporary. It expires February 2010 when we shall have to do most of the admin all over again if we want to stay any longer. Better make a start.
*******
Want more expat mummy stories? The Expat Mums Blog site, a blog written by expat parents for expat parents is holding a carnival today - head on over there for more tales of bringing up kids in another country.
Wednesday, 17 June 2009
red red tape.. stay close to me
Back to our battle with the never-ending, soul destroying, employment creating Bosnian bureaucracy. Using an unexpected flanking manoeuvre, Bosnian bureaucracy has actually opened up a new front in this war, which is occupying most of my time, much to my enormous irritation.
For once it isn't the visa application that is causing my misery. That is not to say that the process is finished, rather the quagmire continues, involving more police reports, extra notarised documents and vast sums of money. It is too unbelievably dull for words.
No, this little skirmish has come from the boys nursery, where we need to reapply for our places next year. This process includes handing over various documents, including passports and birth certificates and having a health check. I could cry. We're still recovering from the last time we had to go and have our health checked out and that was only 2 months ago. The battle to get them to accept the certificates we got that time is ongoing. But this battle is nothing compared to the battle to get them to accept our birth certificates.
The problem is that in Bosnia your birth certificate is re-validated every 6 months. Yup, every 6 months every single Bosnian must go back to the relevant ministry and get a stamp, or whatever it is that they do to show that they are still, well, born. Because, you know, just maybe they have been born again and not in the religious sense. When I produced my birth certificate, the original one and now 37 years old, their jaws nearly hit the floor. The boys' certificates, looking considerably less dog eared, are also not valid.
They would also like us to produce our ID cards. But of course we are British and therefore don't have ID cards (and long may that remain the case, despite the fact it would make my life here a lot easier). That has caused a fair amount of head scratching and ponderous scratching of chins. No ID cards. Possibly, I said, we could use our passports instead. Well they thought that might be ok but could they get back to me on that one. I await their verdict.
I have filled out the form though. But it was in Bosnian and therefore a bit hit and miss, so I've probably applied for them to be taught in German and only on Tuesdays.
I'll just keep on turning up at nursery. They'll have to let us in in the end.
For once it isn't the visa application that is causing my misery. That is not to say that the process is finished, rather the quagmire continues, involving more police reports, extra notarised documents and vast sums of money. It is too unbelievably dull for words.
No, this little skirmish has come from the boys nursery, where we need to reapply for our places next year. This process includes handing over various documents, including passports and birth certificates and having a health check. I could cry. We're still recovering from the last time we had to go and have our health checked out and that was only 2 months ago. The battle to get them to accept the certificates we got that time is ongoing. But this battle is nothing compared to the battle to get them to accept our birth certificates.
The problem is that in Bosnia your birth certificate is re-validated every 6 months. Yup, every 6 months every single Bosnian must go back to the relevant ministry and get a stamp, or whatever it is that they do to show that they are still, well, born. Because, you know, just maybe they have been born again and not in the religious sense. When I produced my birth certificate, the original one and now 37 years old, their jaws nearly hit the floor. The boys' certificates, looking considerably less dog eared, are also not valid.
They would also like us to produce our ID cards. But of course we are British and therefore don't have ID cards (and long may that remain the case, despite the fact it would make my life here a lot easier). That has caused a fair amount of head scratching and ponderous scratching of chins. No ID cards. Possibly, I said, we could use our passports instead. Well they thought that might be ok but could they get back to me on that one. I await their verdict.
I have filled out the form though. But it was in Bosnian and therefore a bit hit and miss, so I've probably applied for them to be taught in German and only on Tuesdays.
I'll just keep on turning up at nursery. They'll have to let us in in the end.
Friday, 3 April 2009
Small children and Bosnian medicals...
Our efforts to get hold of the appropriate visa continue. The most recent step was to have a medical. In our innocence we had just presumed this would be a quick chat with the doctor, possibly a blood pressure measurement or two and off we would go, declared healthy with the appropriate boxes ticked. I even thought that we might be able to do this whilst the boys were in nursery, surely they wouldn't want to examine the boys?
How wrong can you be? 6 hours, 6 Doctors, many nurses and quite a lot of cash later we finally got our signed bit of paper.
The following are my top tips for anyone else considering embarking upon the application process (especially those with children).
1. Make sure that you call someone who knows someone who knows someone in the hospital. This can help ease your route through the process and bumps you up to the front of many queues. This also means you must arrive at the hospital (children in tow) at 7.15am before any queues have yet to form in order to be able to jump them.
2. Find a doctor who knows how to take blood. Let him practice first upon an adult to get his eye in and ensure that if anyone is going to have a bruise from bicep to forearm it is an adult. Female doctors are much better at taking blood from wriggling, screaming children.
3. If you give an un potty trained toddler a urine sample pot, it doesn't mean that you will get a urine sample from him. It you write his name on the lid, it doesn't mean he is anymore likely to pee in the pot. Remember, if you can get unpottytrained toddler to pee into the pot, the mother might well kidnap you and take you home until you train the toddler to pee in the potty.
4. Potty trained toddlers are also going to find peeing into a tiny urine sample pot difficult. They aren't going to be able to repeat the attempt to do so either.
5. Neither toddler will stand still long enough to take a chest x-ray without their mother in the room (and even then it is not guaranteed). The toddlers will also take off any special apron thing put around their waists.
6. It is impossible to keep toddlers behaving well for 6 hours. At some point they will leap off the waiting room chairs and run screaming at the top of their voices into a consulting room. They will repeat this several times.
7. They will also crawl under benches, chairs and generally roll around on the floor. They will probably take down giant cardboard displays and use them to build a fort. It doesn't matter how many times you tell their mother that the floor is dirty, they've been there for 6 hours and it is playing on the floor or running screaming into adjacent consulting rooms. You choose.
8. Please don't ask the mother of a toddler if she gets headaches as the toddler is bashing her over the head with a train.
9. Don't ask if she gets enough sleep either. What do you think?
10. At some point the children will have to be fed and given something to drink. This should not mean that they lose their place in the queue.
For me the highlight of the day was when we were given a psychological test. Seriously. It felt like something out of Joseph Heller's Catch 22. If you are applying for a Bosnian visa you must be mad. Therefore we deny you this visa on the basis of insanity.
The quest continues...
How wrong can you be? 6 hours, 6 Doctors, many nurses and quite a lot of cash later we finally got our signed bit of paper.
The following are my top tips for anyone else considering embarking upon the application process (especially those with children).
1. Make sure that you call someone who knows someone who knows someone in the hospital. This can help ease your route through the process and bumps you up to the front of many queues. This also means you must arrive at the hospital (children in tow) at 7.15am before any queues have yet to form in order to be able to jump them.
2. Find a doctor who knows how to take blood. Let him practice first upon an adult to get his eye in and ensure that if anyone is going to have a bruise from bicep to forearm it is an adult. Female doctors are much better at taking blood from wriggling, screaming children.
3. If you give an un potty trained toddler a urine sample pot, it doesn't mean that you will get a urine sample from him. It you write his name on the lid, it doesn't mean he is anymore likely to pee in the pot. Remember, if you can get unpottytrained toddler to pee into the pot, the mother might well kidnap you and take you home until you train the toddler to pee in the potty.
4. Potty trained toddlers are also going to find peeing into a tiny urine sample pot difficult. They aren't going to be able to repeat the attempt to do so either.
5. Neither toddler will stand still long enough to take a chest x-ray without their mother in the room (and even then it is not guaranteed). The toddlers will also take off any special apron thing put around their waists.
6. It is impossible to keep toddlers behaving well for 6 hours. At some point they will leap off the waiting room chairs and run screaming at the top of their voices into a consulting room. They will repeat this several times.
7. They will also crawl under benches, chairs and generally roll around on the floor. They will probably take down giant cardboard displays and use them to build a fort. It doesn't matter how many times you tell their mother that the floor is dirty, they've been there for 6 hours and it is playing on the floor or running screaming into adjacent consulting rooms. You choose.
8. Please don't ask the mother of a toddler if she gets headaches as the toddler is bashing her over the head with a train.
9. Don't ask if she gets enough sleep either. What do you think?
10. At some point the children will have to be fed and given something to drink. This should not mean that they lose their place in the queue.
For me the highlight of the day was when we were given a psychological test. Seriously. It felt like something out of Joseph Heller's Catch 22. If you are applying for a Bosnian visa you must be mad. Therefore we deny you this visa on the basis of insanity.
The quest continues...
Tuesday, 17 March 2009
visas ... or maybe not
The quest to obtain the proper permission to remain in this country continues. This has been going on since we got here and is becoming so unbearably bureaucratically mind numbingly dementedly dull that all we can do is laugh, shrug our shoulders and mutter, as the Bosnians do, 'this is Bosnia'
Our tourist visas ran out again so we made the trip to Serbia for coffee on Sunday (see my previous post from the last time we had to do this, deludedly thinking that that would be the last time). Dave's company is now officially registered and he has a Bosnian bank account, a Bosnian employee and a Bosnian salary. The big step forward is that company is now permitted to employ him, the creator of the company, as of last week. This is a process that has taken 8 months. Now we can start the process of obtaining temporary residency visas. Having seen the application form we suspect this will take us another 8 months. We also need to re-obtain a load of documentation, such as UK police checks, that we had already obtained before we left the UK as they are now, apparently, out of date.
Back to the police station we must go, where we will be told off, again, for not having a residency visa. We will be told, again, that as we only have a tourist visa we really ought to leave the country for 3 months before we are allowed back in again. We will be told, again, that this is the last time they will renew our visa but not until we point out that we simply cannot move this process along any faster, and it is not our fault that it is taking so long. Once again, the boys will use the corridors as 100m racing tracks and we will be told off by some scary looking policemen having cigarettes. Really, it is so frustrating and such a waste of everyones time and energy. If the powers that be in Bosnia really want people to invest in this country, and create companies which generate income and employment, they really do need to sort this process out.
Oh well, onwards and upwards.
Our tourist visas ran out again so we made the trip to Serbia for coffee on Sunday (see my previous post from the last time we had to do this, deludedly thinking that that would be the last time). Dave's company is now officially registered and he has a Bosnian bank account, a Bosnian employee and a Bosnian salary. The big step forward is that company is now permitted to employ him, the creator of the company, as of last week. This is a process that has taken 8 months. Now we can start the process of obtaining temporary residency visas. Having seen the application form we suspect this will take us another 8 months. We also need to re-obtain a load of documentation, such as UK police checks, that we had already obtained before we left the UK as they are now, apparently, out of date.
Back to the police station we must go, where we will be told off, again, for not having a residency visa. We will be told, again, that as we only have a tourist visa we really ought to leave the country for 3 months before we are allowed back in again. We will be told, again, that this is the last time they will renew our visa but not until we point out that we simply cannot move this process along any faster, and it is not our fault that it is taking so long. Once again, the boys will use the corridors as 100m racing tracks and we will be told off by some scary looking policemen having cigarettes. Really, it is so frustrating and such a waste of everyones time and energy. If the powers that be in Bosnia really want people to invest in this country, and create companies which generate income and employment, they really do need to sort this process out.
Oh well, onwards and upwards.
Monday, 24 November 2008
Serbia, for at least 30 minutes
It happens to us all in the end. The 90 day tourist visa is up and we had to leave Bosnia and reenter again to reinstate our right to be here. We had all sorts of plans. Pre children we'd have driven to Budapest for a romantic weekend. We could have taken a romantic weekend down in the coastal town Dubrovnik, also stunning. We could have hopped on a bus to Zagreb and, with a bit of luck and endurance to go further, gone skiing in the Slovenian mountains. We could have gone for a party weekend in Belgrade, recently cited as the best nightlife in Europe by the Times (article here).
All options a bit tricky with the kids. Partying is severely restricted when you need to be home for an absolute latest 9pm bedtime. Long car journeys to the coast or eastern European capitals are even less attractive when you need to sing Baa Baa Black Sheep for 3 hours continuously. Skiing might be a bit ambitious when Lukey has only known how to stand for under a year.
So instead we left the dog behind and drove to the nearest border, happening to be with Serbia which is about an hour away. We parked the car (don't have insurance to drive outside of Bosnia at the moment), changed a nappy and walked across a bridge spanning the Drina river, huddled against the biting wind signalling the arrival of winter, snow, hail and ice. Once on the other side we sidled into a cafe, ordered a quick coffee / hot chocolate to warm up and then headed straight back the way we had come from.
Next stop, badgering our landlord to come to the police station with us to complete all the necessary paperwork. The boys love this part, the long corridors in the police station echo and make brilliant running tracks. The police don't love this at all.
Now that D's company is fully operational (crack open the champagne, he has even managed to open a bank account), we can now start the process to apply for temporary residency visas which will negate the need to be making this sort of trip every 3 months.
All options a bit tricky with the kids. Partying is severely restricted when you need to be home for an absolute latest 9pm bedtime. Long car journeys to the coast or eastern European capitals are even less attractive when you need to sing Baa Baa Black Sheep for 3 hours continuously. Skiing might be a bit ambitious when Lukey has only known how to stand for under a year.
So instead we left the dog behind and drove to the nearest border, happening to be with Serbia which is about an hour away. We parked the car (don't have insurance to drive outside of Bosnia at the moment), changed a nappy and walked across a bridge spanning the Drina river, huddled against the biting wind signalling the arrival of winter, snow, hail and ice. Once on the other side we sidled into a cafe, ordered a quick coffee / hot chocolate to warm up and then headed straight back the way we had come from.
Next stop, badgering our landlord to come to the police station with us to complete all the necessary paperwork. The boys love this part, the long corridors in the police station echo and make brilliant running tracks. The police don't love this at all.
Now that D's company is fully operational (crack open the champagne, he has even managed to open a bank account), we can now start the process to apply for temporary residency visas which will negate the need to be making this sort of trip every 3 months.
Tuesday, 4 November 2008
stamps and visas
D's company continues the long trek to official recognition in BiH. Having been recognised by a Federal Ministry and also been to the Tuzla Cantonal offices (each step involving lawyers, court translators and reams of paper) he now has an official company stamp. Innocuous looking, this stamp is the key to all things useful. For example, the company cannot have a Bosnian bank account without the stamp (and therefore cannot employ anyone and so on and so forth). It is such an important part of being a Bosnian company that if it is lost or stolen he must immediately report it to the Bosnian police.
So one step closer to having a fully functioning Bosnian company brings us one step closer to sorting out our visa situation. We need to apply for temporary residency visas, but cannot do so until D can show that he is employed by a Bosnian company. Until that time we exist on 90 day tourist visas. These are pretty easy to renew, and to be honest we suspect that many people remain on their tourist visas, just popping across the border for a long weekend on the Croatian coast or a partying weekend in Belgrade when it needs to be renewed.
This isn't an option for us for two reasons. Firstly, D is a director of a company and we are not comfortable not complying with the strict letter of the law. Second, those on tourist visas need to register where they are staying with the police. For us this means hauling our landlord down to the police station during the working day which is inconvenient for everybody. The only people who enjoy a trip to the police station are the boys. They rapidly discovered that they could race down the long corridors of the police station at full speed and if they screeched really loudly there was an echo. Yes, I do believe that everyone, including the police, would be happier if we didn't have to go back every 90 days.
So one step closer to having a fully functioning Bosnian company brings us one step closer to sorting out our visa situation. We need to apply for temporary residency visas, but cannot do so until D can show that he is employed by a Bosnian company. Until that time we exist on 90 day tourist visas. These are pretty easy to renew, and to be honest we suspect that many people remain on their tourist visas, just popping across the border for a long weekend on the Croatian coast or a partying weekend in Belgrade when it needs to be renewed.
This isn't an option for us for two reasons. Firstly, D is a director of a company and we are not comfortable not complying with the strict letter of the law. Second, those on tourist visas need to register where they are staying with the police. For us this means hauling our landlord down to the police station during the working day which is inconvenient for everybody. The only people who enjoy a trip to the police station are the boys. They rapidly discovered that they could race down the long corridors of the police station at full speed and if they screeched really loudly there was an echo. Yes, I do believe that everyone, including the police, would be happier if we didn't have to go back every 90 days.
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