Since living in a country other than the one of which I am a citizen, bureaucratic struggles that would be medium-intense have become epic decathlons of perseverance. Registering my car in the United States took me approximately 30 to 40 hours of appointments, repairs, inspections and phone calls over a six month period. Getting my California drivers license also took multiple appointments and two tests.
Yesterday I finally got my new Canadian passport, which I've been working on since July. It's iridescent and pretty. In my old passport photo, I look like I'm pleased to meet you. In my new passport photo, I wear the expression of someone who knows that it will take eight months before I have the document in hand. I look Hungarian. You are not supposed to smile in Canadian passport photos anymore.
I do feel like I've perfected a combination of my Anglo-heritage (I know how to queue), my Canadian manners, and American aggression when it comes to dealing with this stuff. Everything I've put in for, I've eventually gotten, even though in the case of my passport, I had to call the Canadian consulate to get the certified mail tracking number and then go in person to the post office to find out that they had it, but no one had ever scanned it into their system so it seemed like they had no plans to deliver it until I showed up to ask about it.
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