The scathing letter - deel 1

In the very first week I was in Belgium, Jim and I went to City Hall to register for an identity card. While waiting, we picked up a flyer about learning to speak Dutch. At the time we weren't sure if I could accompany Jim to the Flemish lessons he was already attending. So Ross and I walked over to the place listed on the flyer. Just to check it out.

That was our first mistake.

We wandered around, asked someone where to go, the person wasn't sure, wandered some more and finally found it.

That was our second mistake.

We were escorted into this office where a guy who didn't speak perfect English, asks why I'm in Belgium and to see my identity card so he can check in the computer to find out if I am required to go through the integration program. What?! What integration program?!

I am here on my own volition, guy-who-doesn't-speak-perfect-English! And I don't have my identity card . . . yet.

So, he asks for my husband's name so he can look him up in the computer. That's when I realize we have made a grave error in judgement by coming here on this day.

We have about a million other things to do and worry about without THIS!

I tell the guy we need to get more information and will come back another time. Ross and I scurry out and I text Jim that I've probably gotten us into a nice mess. He says it's okay. Not to worry.

But I am the Queen of Worry so I add this to my list.

Anyway, September, October, November go by and nothing. Buuuuuut, around the first of December, the bell rings at our apartment. I carefully dash down the ladder that is our stairs and dash outside since the bell is all the way around the apartment and outside the gate.

Waiting there is the postman with a letter addressed to me requiring a signature. So, of course, I sign it.

I believe that would be mistake number three.

I open the letter and find it's from that same place where Ross and I moseyed in and scurried out so many months ago. So I go ahead and ruin my day by translating the letter on google and learning I must present myself at the official office and if I don't, I could be fined. Fined! As in a ticket for not showing up!

Okay, so my first question is - why is this letter addressed to ONLY ME?! Not Jim. Second question - why didn't HE get a scathing letter too?!

So, I get back out that worry list and email the google translation of this registered letter I just got to Jim. He emails it to the attorney, the accountant, the teacher, the butcher, the baker, the candlestick maker and they all say . . .

Yeah, you're going to have to present yourself at the official office and by the way, have on hand your passport, identity card, birth certificate, first born child . . .

I KNEW IT! I was only trying to get information! I beg you, don't make me integrate!

And Jim was now caught in the net that was cast after consulting the baker.

So, what could we do, but go present ourselves?

To be continued . . .