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I don't know where time went, it seems as if I came here yesterday but it has been almost three months. Maybe you don't notice time passing so much when the weather is always almost the same?
Anyway, it's time for me to face the authorities, claim my right to be registered here as a permanent immigrant with whatever duties and rights might be included.
I get hold of my "bible" - Carol Palioudaki's "Living in Crete" - and find that whatever I need to bring with me to obtain the registration is very much depending on the mood of whomever is receiving my application!
That's reassuring!
For starters, I should bring 4 passport photos, my passport and a photocopy of the same - and in view of what anyone MIGHT require - depending on the mood - my bank savings book, proof of my income in form of invoices and related payment confirmations from the bank, proof of my income during the last three years in another EU country in form of tax declarations... well, at this point I decide just to bring my passport! I recon I should go to the police to be registered, and since the "capital" of Pitsidia is Timbaki I decide that this is where I have to go.
The morning is grand, warm sunshine and clear air which makes the mountains look as if they were glued on a background of intense blue like in one of Yannis' jigsaw puzzles, and I really enjoy the ride to Timbaki on the tiny roads surrounded by olive trees. In Timbaki I immediately find a photo shop and have the passport photos made, they addressed me to another shop for the photocopy, and from there they indicated the way to the police station.
At the police station nobody speaks anything than Greek. Apparently "residence permit" does not in any way recall a similar thing in Greek and therefore nobody understands what I want (I make a mental note to look up the exact wording in Greek before my next try!). One of the guys picks up the phone and call somebody who speaks English and after a while this person comes to my rescue. Just to explain that the police station in Timbaki is just an ordinary police station, I have to go to the police department which deals with this stuff in Mires. Go see Mr. Vilanaki - but don't go today because he is not there today!
So much for my residence permit today. Tomorrow I'll try Mr. Vilanaki in Mires!
In order not to have wasted my journey totally I go to Mires anyway, make the shopping at Marinopolos - an ordinary supermarket - and on my way back home I make a small detour to Pombia. Pombia is a small village in the hights over Mires, about 5 chilometres from Mires, nice view, quiet little town. I decide to have lunch at the local taverna after a walk around the village and just sit and enjoy my meal while admiring the view and feeling the hot sunshine performing its delicious helioterapia on my old bones!
Anyway, it's time for me to face the authorities, claim my right to be registered here as a permanent immigrant with whatever duties and rights might be included.
I get hold of my "bible" - Carol Palioudaki's "Living in Crete" - and find that whatever I need to bring with me to obtain the registration is very much depending on the mood of whomever is receiving my application!
That's reassuring! For starters, I should bring 4 passport photos, my passport and a photocopy of the same - and in view of what anyone MIGHT require - depending on the mood - my bank savings book, proof of my income in form of invoices and related payment confirmations from the bank, proof of my income during the last three years in another EU country in form of tax declarations... well, at this point I decide just to bring my passport! I recon I should go to the police to be registered, and since the "capital" of Pitsidia is Timbaki I decide that this is where I have to go.
The morning is grand, warm sunshine and clear air which makes the mountains look as if they were glued on a background of intense blue like in one of Yannis' jigsaw puzzles, and I really enjoy the ride to Timbaki on the tiny roads surrounded by olive trees. In Timbaki I immediately find a photo shop and have the passport photos made, they addressed me to another shop for the photocopy, and from there they indicated the way to the police station.
At the police station nobody speaks anything than Greek. Apparently "residence permit" does not in any way recall a similar thing in Greek and therefore nobody understands what I want (I make a mental note to look up the exact wording in Greek before my next try!). One of the guys picks up the phone and call somebody who speaks English and after a while this person comes to my rescue. Just to explain that the police station in Timbaki is just an ordinary police station, I have to go to the police department which deals with this stuff in Mires. Go see Mr. Vilanaki - but don't go today because he is not there today!
So much for my residence permit today. Tomorrow I'll try Mr. Vilanaki in Mires!
In order not to have wasted my journey totally I go to Mires anyway, make the shopping at Marinopolos - an ordinary supermarket - and on my way back home I make a small detour to Pombia. Pombia is a small village in the hights over Mires, about 5 chilometres from Mires, nice view, quiet little town. I decide to have lunch at the local taverna after a walk around the village and just sit and enjoy my meal while admiring the view and feeling the hot sunshine performing its delicious helioterapia on my old bones!
