The German immigration process is a well-structured waltz in a strict triple metre with the immigration office. Neither of you will be stepping on any toes as long as you both dance exactly to the tune of the federal government.
The three-metre waltz has three parts to it: visa application, residence permit, and address registration. My tourist visa on arrival was good for 90 days, so all I needed to do was to get a residence permit before my time was up. At Humboldt University, I was lucky enough to have the international students’ office process the residence application for me once I landed.
Then, I had to register my address within 30 days of arrival. The online system indicated at least a 6-week wait because of all the refugees entering Germany back in 2016. I traveled to a Bürgeramt, or citizen’s office, on the other side of Berlin to try my luck and see if I could get an appointment. The officers in western Berlin also spoke very good English.
After waiting in line for just an hour. I got a ticket with a number and a date and time to return next week. While I waited for my residence permit to be approved and for my residence registration appointment, I had no identification documents as they were withheld by the government for processing. I was given a small sheet of paper from the immigration office to prove my identity instead and unable to travel until the whole process was completed.
A week later, I brought all my documents, including my birth certificate and address proof for the past five years, to register my apartment in Berlin to me. Then, I could use the completed registration certificate to open a bank account, activate a phone plan, and do all the other boring things required to sustain life in a modern society.
A month after that, I returned to the international students’ office to collect my passport and new residence permit. I was finally a free man and could travel outside the country.
I did all me research in advance, so I knew the reregistration process would take just as long. About a month before my departure date, I went to the Landesamt für Einwanderung, or immigration office, also known colloquially as the Ausländerbehörde, or foreigner’s office. The international students’ office would only do the registration part for me, so I had to deregister by myself.
I woke up at five in the morning and took a bus to get the nearest immigration office before it opened at nine. I arrived at about seven o’clock and there was already a line forming outside it’s gate. The security guard gave every person in line a piece of paper with a number on it and told us to come back when they opened.
Needless to say, none of the foreign students, migrant workers, or refugees budged. We stood in line on a windy March morning waiting for the gates of the immigration office to open.
When they finally opened, we shuffled through the gates, up the building’s staircase, and distributed ourselves onto the right floor according to service required in an orderly fashion. We already got our numbered tickets, so there was no need to rush, the line order was settled.
As I entered the building, a lady approached the security guard asking for a ticket. He told her that all the spots for the day had already been taken.
There weren’t enough seats in the waiting room for immigration and emigration applications for the hundred odd people there, so I claimed a small spot of carpet. The crowded room was soon filled with a musty and moist air from people snoring in their seats while waiting for their number to be called.
The toilet was remarkably clean. The one and only toilet that serves more than a hundred people from all over the world from all walks of life. There were several mothers with children, a bunch of students with hair colours that would put skittles to shame, and lots of men without a single janitor in sight. Yet, hours into the wait, the toilet still remains sparkling clean.
It was nearly noon when I finally got called to the counter to get their stamp of approval. It took me the rest of the day to use the reregistration certificate to close my bank account, cancel my credit cards, and stop my phone subscription.
I probably spent more time worrying about government administration than I did for university administration. But that’s a whole other story.
