Nobody’s Wife

According to the Belgian government, Andrew and I are not legally married. This came as quite a shock, as I distinctly remember walking down an isle, wearing a white dress, signing papers in front of friends and family and kissing my (I thought) new husband about five years ago. Strange…

We learned this little fact yesterday, when we went to register at the Kortenberg commune. As I mentioned before, every time you move in Belgium, you must register with what is essentially the town hall. I’m not sure exactly what the reasons for this are but I’m sure they include generating mounds of useless paperwork and creating jobs for the makers of useless and/or redundant policies and regulations.

We are apparently not legally married because the Belgian government does not recognize our marriage certificate without it be notarized in Canada and having an “Apostille.” ‘What is an Apostille?’, you ask. That is a very good question and I’ll let you know as soon as we figure that out. The major problem with not being married to my husband is that he is the only one with a Visa and work permit. Without these items I can only legally stay in Belgium for three months. This leads me to the second problem…

When we flew in to Schipol airport, the customs officer didn’t stamp our passports. This is no big deal for Andrew, as he has a Visa, but it causes a problem for me because they don’t know when to start my three months. The only thing we had to go on was our rental contract and the person we were dealing with at the commune didn’t know if the government would accept that.

So at this point my options are: apply for a Visa based on the fact that I am Andrew’s wife or get the marriage certificate and our birth certificates legalized, with the Apostille. Problems: A) not knowing what the Apostille is B) possibility of having to leave and re-enter the country to get my passport stamped C) having the Visa application rejected D) thinking very bad thoughts about all Belgian government officials.

Needless to say, we left the commune feeling like we had been beaten repeatedly with a large blunt object. Just when you think you have everything necessary to do anything, there is one more document, or signature or silly thing you have to do.

This meal is brought to you by Ikea.

In the continuing saga of Caesar, our puppy is supposed to arrive tomorrow. We still don’t know if we have all the documents he needs. We also just learned that we have to pay in cash to pick him up. Please don’t ask me how much this is costing because it sends me into convolutions whenever I think about it. Please cross you fingers and think happy doggy thoughts that everything will go smoothly for him. Andrew and I have visions of seeing a large Saint Bernard, running down the tarmac, on the evening news.

Finally no more floor picnics!

On a happy note… We have a table! When you register at the commune, they send someone out to check that you are living in the house you say you are. Other than the bedroom, our house basically looks like squatters had moved in. The two chairs and lawn furniture in the living room probably wouldn’t be that convincing to the officer so we made another pilgrimage to Ikea. I put it together yesterday afternoon and I love it. It also expands with two leaves to seat about eight. I don’t know when we’ll ever need it to be this big but it will be great for scrapbooking when I finally have a printer.

So tomorrow we head to Amsterdam and hopefully we will be returning with a large, smelly dog and our family will be reunited once more. Hopefully…