Tag Archives: residence visa

My Precious, My Kimlik

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Nerd Alert – I find myself constantly referring to Lord of The Rings in this post.  My apologies.

I wanted to do a post about obtaining my Turkish citizenship but as it would no doubt be longer than my collector’s edition of Lord of The Rings (a total of 1,215 pages for those interested) I kept putting it off in lieu of, oh I don’t know, having a colonoscopy or maybe root canal surgery or even spending an evening having my finger nails pulled out by the likes of Sauron, Osama Bin Laden or Donald Trump.

The ringAnyway, so I kept putting it off waiting for hell to freeze over but as we are now in spring and we have already hit the 30’s a few times here in Mersin it is clear that the second coming isn’t going to be knocking on my door any time soon and so … I give you … the story of my citizenship.

Before I go any further let me get the important stuff out of the way before I start banging on with my unnecessarily long diatribe.

You will need:
• Passport
• Birth certificate
• If you are married to a Turkish national, official documents confirming the identities and family ties of the spouse and all underage children (can be obtained from Nufus ofis)
• Marriage Certificate (in my case)
• Certificate of your ability to speak Turkish (well I think we all know that I did not have that document)
• A medical certificate confirming that you are of good health (obtained at any hastane)
• Four passport sized photographs (bollocks!  Get 10 and then get another 10)
• Completed application forms (we obtained from Emniyet but as mentioned now issued by Nufus ofis)

All documents issued overseas must be translated and notarized.

There will also be unannounced polis checks made to your home, polis reports made back in your home country and fingerprinting done.  It is very thorough.

My one piece of advice to each of you currently thinking about or obtaining citizenship here in Turkey is perseverance is the key.  Be prepared to chase up the documents.  Be prepared to make a nuisance of yourself.  Be prepared to smile despite the fact that you want to rip off someone’s head and be prepared to be in their face as often as you can to ensure that they won’t forget about your application or put it to the side while they watch YouTube on their computer.

Timing wise Mersin seems to be dragging its heels with other cities churning out an approval at a much, MUCH, faster pace.  For me citizenship took nearly 3 years but I understand that some cities can knock over a citizenship application in only 6 months.  Lucky bastards!

Alright.  Pull up a chair, pour yourself a glass of whatever makes you feel good and … let’s go!

When I first applied for citizenship here in Mersin, nearly 156 weeks ago, I applied at the Emniyet.  Since my application the system has been streamlined *cough cough* and now you apply directly to the İl Nüfus ve Vatandaşlık Müdürlüğü (City Population and Citizenship Directorate).

After six months we chased up the application and I have previously written about that incident here.  Another couple of months passed and I was called in to the karakol (police station) for what an interview that will forevermore be called as “The Inquisition”.  In the meantime I had polis attend at our house twice to ensure that The Turk and I were in fact in a real relationship.  All seemed in order.

Right now my application seemed to be coming along nicely however not fast enough and I had to apply for an extension to my Residence Permit (one more year I swear).

Coming into my second year my frustration levels were rising and The Turk was not interested in chasing up the application anymore.  I was at the end of my tether when we got the call from the Nufus ofis.  An interview date with the Vali (Governor) had been set for six weeks’ time however as I had already arranged a trip during that period we were pushed back for the next possible date … a further 8 weeks down the track.  I was happy with that because it gave me time to throw myself into learning the language and so I spent the next 14 weeks having Turkish lessons so I could wow the Vali with my excellent language skills.

Of course on the day I was crapping myself because my language skills sucked and by the time I went to meet the Governator (typo but I’m keeping it) I was so nervous I nearly vomited.  It was crystal clear that I was going to fail the Turkish component of the interview (particularly after the earlier mentioned Inquisition) and they wouldn’t sign off on my application.  Instead they would hate me on sight and immediately throw me out of the country!  Well.  Seriously.  No issue.  Other than a hearty merhaba the panel of professionals that held the interview (there were 3 at my interview plus the Governator) didn’t even look in my direction.  The entire conversation was held in Turkish and was entirely held with The Turk.  Everyone shook hands and we left.  All the paperwork was now to on its way to Ankara for a final decision.  (I will say that I understand this is not a normal interview.  I will say that everyone that I have spoken to has had extremely different experiences when they have had this final interview.  I feel that perhaps the sun was shining down on me that day.)

Woo hoo!!!  Any day now peeps!

NOT!

Time passed and again I needed to renew my Resident’s Permit … again.  So frustrating!  It was then that I put The Turk on notice.  I’m not going through the rigmarole of renewing my RP a fourth time.  If I do not have citizenship by the expiration of this current RP I was moving back to Australia.

And that brings us to December last year when I returned from a girlie weekend in Germany and was asked at the airport to provide my kimlik (Identity Card).  Ummm?  Huh???  WTF???

That Monday we attended at the Nufus ofis with a spring in our step and requested an update.  There was much excitement when we walked in and they congratulated The Turk on his perseverance (hello what about congratulating me for putting up with all this shite?) and they handed to us an envelope.  I felt like a presenter at the Academy Awards … “and the winner is …”  Inside was the Onay Duyu Belgesi (Certificate of Approval).  Wow.  Thank you.  Only 1095 days after my original application peeps!

And this is when it all goes south …

We were told that the polis would attend at our home again in the next few days and once that was done the kimlik will be issued.  Hold on a minute!  I was told at the airport that the kimlik had already issued and this document that I am holding in my hot little hands is a Certificate of Approval.  Are we in the Twilight Zone?  No, you are Turkish now but we just need to follow procedure.  Of course.  We waited four weeks but the polis did not appear.  The Turk started returning to the Nufus each week to try and move the matter forward but to no avail.

In the meantime an expat friend here in Mersin who had lodged her citizenship application approximately the same time as me (did I mention it was nearly 3 years ago) also received her Onay Duyu Belgesi in her precious envelope and within a week she had received her kimlik!  What the holy hell?

Another couple of weeks went by.  Anything?  Nope.  Nothing.

So we went back.  And this is what happened:

Go to the Nufus.  Sorry.  Polis check needed.

Nope.  On the advice of my kimlik holding expat friend I confirmed online that the law has now changed and a further Polis check is not necessary.

Back to the Nufus.  Dude the law has changed.  Check it!  No, he tells us.  It has now changed again.  Seriously?  In the space of 3 days?  Sorry.  Wait for Polis check.  Dude I’m telling ya check it again!

OK yes you are right.  Go to Emniyet.

Went to Emniyet.  Sorry.  Go to the Nufus.

Back to the Nufus.  Waiting on Polis check.

Are you fecking serious?  The stupid is so stupid that it actually crushes you until you become as stupid as the stupid!

 

The finger

We began to experience life at the rate of several WTF’s per hour and The Turk just couldn’t take anymore.  His sanity was being held together by duct tape and chewing gum.  I wasn’t sure if he would go postal or would have a heart attack and drop dead on the spot (which would no doubt delay the issue of the kimlik yet again) but instead he sensibly went to see our local Belediye Başkanı (mayor) here in the Village for a little advice.  The mayor rang the patron at the Nufus who confirmed that the kimlik should have already issued.  Feck my life!

The next day we again attended at the Nufus where we by-passed all the plebs and went straight to the patron.  He took us over to the appropriate desk jockey and instructed him to issue the kimlik immediately.  Five minutes later … Sorry.  No polis check.  Come back after polis check.

Now being a patient, gentle sort of girl I generally don’t worry about the little things but when the imaginary people in my head start shouting, “no fecking no you feckity feck!” I know things aren’t really going the way they ought!

I looked around for a nice strong looking pillar so I could smash my head into it but instead we went back to see the patron, who took us back to see the pencil pusher, who grumbled under his breath like a petulant toddler until … finally … it happened … nearly three years but … I got my KIMLIK!!!!

Yes peeps to quote the fabled Mr Frodo Baggins, “It’s done, it’s finished”.  No more do I have to enter the gates of Modor.  I had returned the ring to its rightful place and I can now rest easy.  I wanted to high five the pleb/desk jockey/pencil pusher/sulky child but thought better of it.  I walked out of the Nufus ofis with my head held high and a great big smile on my dial.

Its done

I am a Turkish citizen.  The short line at the airport is now MY line!  Oh and I am no longer a yabancı and woe be it to anyone who dares call me one!

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“Grow The Feck Up”

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There are days when I just cannot do it.  I just cannot “adult”.  It’s a thing you know.  I used to go through it on a Monday morning when I would be getting ready for work.  I would morph into the petulant child.  I become bitter and mean.  I would stand in my living room in my pyjamas and I would stamp my foot.  I would sulk all the way to work while sitting on my bus.  I did NOT want to “adult”.  Now it happens to me when I have to go into a Turkish Government office.

adult

You may all recall my recent yabanci post; well this is my follow up.  Shortly after that post we lodged my Residency Permit for renewal.  Now I am not going to bore you with all the idiosyncrasies with your RP.  Go to YellAli or Doc Marten for all the information as these are my “go to” websites.  Anyway, we lodged my RP.  We had everything that we needed.  We went over the documents – twice.  The Turk checked it.  I checked it.  His brother checked it (the smart one).  It was perfect.  Done and dusted.  The appointment date was easy to get and I went for my appointment on Tuesday morning.  I knew I had to “adult” but, as mentioned above, I spent my morning sulking, stamping my foot and, well, sometimes I can be just damn difficult.

And I know I have to be on my best behaviour when we get there.  I know that I need to smile and say teşekkür ederim and wish them a merry day despite their gruff behaviour but, honestly, when you know you are going to be ignored, talked about, ignored and spoken to in a manner that is nothing short of condescending and finally, ignored, it makes it very hard for me to “adult”.

Before we stepped through security The Turk whispered to me, “Don’t act like a bitch.”  Awwww.  He knows me so well.

Up to the 3rd floor we went.  We found our door – can you feel the excitement?  The Turk knocks.  In we go.  We stood at the counter while three men sat diligently ignoring us while updating each other on their scintillating personal lives.  We stood.  Patiently.  I counted to “87 Mississippi” before The Turk clears his throat to get their attention.  We have an appointment.  Without even stopping their conversation, without even looking up, one of them did the head flick (you know the one) and “tskked” us before flicking his wrist indicating we go to the desk on the right.  At this point I laughed out loud.  I had to.  How fecking rude is that?  Would this fly in a Government department in your home town.  No it fecking wouldn’t!  I stared at him and said, “Well aren’t you an ass”.  Of course, no one understands so that works out well for me.  The Turk gave me the death stare that would make Emperor Palpatine tremble in his hoodie before turning to the appropriate desk where sitting behind it was a woman who had, by her appearance and demeanour, obviously just caught her husband in bed with a supermodel.  I mean she was practically catatonic.  You could literally taste her despair and melancholy.  Seriously her aura would be a big black cloud of death!  For the sake of this post she will be known as Misery.

Documents were handed over and hurried conversations were had.  Not to me of course but between The Turk and Misery.  After a few false starts (that had us running to the other end of Carsi to obtain additional documents) Misery gave us the all clear and said we were good to go.  The new ikhamet should arrive in 4 weeks.  Yah!!!  Petulant child clapped her hands and skipped out of the building.

Friday morning we were called back into the Government office.  “Don’t wanna”, said I as I wanted to go to the beach with my friends.  Again my other persona of petulant child appeared.  I stamped my foot.  I sulked all the way there in the car.  I was NOT going to “adult”.  We got there.  Before we walked through security The Turk warned me, “Grow Up”.  Alright that was a lie.  What he actually said was, “Grow the feck up”.  (see how I keep this PG-13 after all feck is much nicer to read than FUCK isn’t it?).  I sighed.  Okay.  I can do this.  Taking The Turk’s excellent advice (and knowing that I wanted to get this done so I could go to the beach) I put a big, fat, fake smile on my dial to which The Turk sidelines me with, “Is that your Bitching Rest Face?” Yes.  Yes it is!  We were first through the door on Friday morning.  First through the security check and the first ones up on the 3rd floor.  We were ready for anything.  We sat.  We waited.  It was soooo fecking hot that my ass was sweating freely but I still kept Bitching Rest Face on my dial.  Finally we were called back to see Misery (who was only slightly less miserable in our second encounter).  She pointed at the last page, “Işaret”.  Signature.

Oops!

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My Most Hated Turkish Word – Yabancı

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This community service announcement is coming to you from my balcony with a glass of red in my hand to calm my frazzled nerves.  It is just on 7.30pm and its 33 degrees (Celius people not that crazy Fahrenheit that only, like, one country in the world still uses) and I am trying to enjoy the mild ocean breeze wafting over our ev.  I have had a crappy day and it all comes down to one word.  A word, I believe, is possibly the worst word in the Turkish language (and that’s saying something ‘cause a Turk can tell you to go and feck yourself in so many unique ways).  The word that has become the bane of my existence is … Yabancı.

meditation

Just breathe Janey.  Breathe!

For the uninitiated the word Yabancı simply means “foreigner”.  According to Google translate (my Bible) it also means “alien”, exotic”, “outlandish” and a few other words but basically a Yabancı is anyone that is not Turkish but can also be used for someone who is not from Mersin or not from The Village so it can be a very diverse word when it puts its mind to it.

Yes people today the word Yabancı has been tossed around more than a football at the Superbowl or a Frisbee at a family barbie and I am not taking it anymore!

We all know that my Turkish is crap.  I have not mastered the language and, despite thousands of liras worth of lessons, I am possibly worse now than when I started (that is not true at all).  BUT I can understand enough to know two things – 1. When they are talking about me; and 2. When they are talking about me.  Alright I only know one thing but I only need to know one thing and I do KNOW WHEN THEY ARE TALKING ABOUT ME!

So the point of this rant?

It is time for me to renew my residency visa.  “A residency visa?” you ask, “Why would you have a residency visa when you have been married to The Turk for what seems like a 1000 years of servitude?”  Why indeed curious reader.  Well the reason that I did not get a kimlik (Identity Card) back when was simple – pure laziness on our part.  Not just me but The Turk too.  We just never got round to it.  “But why don’t you apply for your kimlik now?” Why not?  Well I did actually apply 22 months ago and now 22 months later I am still waiting on my kimlik.  Everything has been lodged.  I have had my interview waaayyy back in March it is now just playing the waiting game but I tell you this right now – if I do not have my kimlik by this time next year I am moving back to Oz!  Yep I’m putting a “used by date” on this shit!

Alright so I am babbling again – back to it.

So now we find ourselves moving into Year 3 of our time here in Türkiye and I need to renew my residency visa yet again.  I went to the bank – they needed paperwork from the Nufus.  Got it.  Back to the Bank, got my statement.  Too easy.  I went to the sigorta and argued the toss with them for a good 2 hours about my place of abode.  They needed proof from the Nufus.  Got it.  Got the confirmation of insurance (oh and thank youto the FB group Doc Martin for your assistance in this regard).  Alrighty then.  Proof of address.  Easy.  Tapu.  No for some stupid, idiotic reason of which I cannot truly understand I needed to go to the Nufus and get proof of place of abode – yet fecking again!  Back to the Nufus for the third time in this week.  Well the past two trips had been relatively easy even though The Turk tends to talk too much and unintentionally irritates the Government employees with his banter but regardless they were pretty straightforward trips up until today.  TODAY.  Feck my life.  For whatever fecking reason today’s employee decided that my address wasn’t correct on the computer and sent The Turk and I backwards and forwards the bloody office like a tennis ball at a Grand Slam.  The word yabancı was tossed around often and every single time I heard it I shuddered.  Not only was yabancı tossed around there was also Avustralya tossed around like a shrimp on a barbie.  At one point I actually counted the number of times the word yabancı was used in one minute.  It was 11.  11 times!  11 times by three Government employees.

Here’s what you need to know people.  Yes I am a yabancı.  Yes I am from Avustralya.  Yes I live here.  Why?  Because I fecking want to.  Give me my fecking document.  Just give it to me.  NOW!

We arrived at the Nufus at 9.15 am and we left at 12.22 pm.  The Turk has suggested I take up meditation before I lose my fecking mind.

Feck.My.Life!

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