Parthemores in Poland

Every time we think we have something figured out, there is a new twist.  Eric ordered a uniform from the US and had it shipped here through the mail.  We’ve received a few packages already, so we know the drill:  we get the slip of paper in the mailbox and take it to the post office with our passports. 

Except this time, we didn’t receive a package in return; instead it was a certified letter from the post office.  After reading it, we understood that we had to go to the main post office (on the other side of town) to pick it up.  We take the tram down there, find the right building and hand the clerk the letter. 

I should point out that many cashiers here work behind what I refer to as “the uncomfortable window.”  This refers to not only how I feel when I am straining to understand their Polish through the inch-thick glass, but also your posture while having this conversation.  They are sitting down at their desk and the window is at their height.  We are standing in the hallway in a half bent-over, head-cocked manner.  It would be fine if there was a chair for the customer.  But there never is.

The postal worker (who was very helpful) explains to us that we need to produce proof that we have actually paid the amount on the customs form.  Hilariously, the example he showed us what someone who bought something from Victoria’s Secret. 

15 minute tram ride home, print out the statement, 15 minute tram ride back. 

Soon we find out what all the rigamarole is about:  taxes.  In Poland the Value Added Tax (VAT) is 22%.  Yes, it sounds terrible, but pretty much everything includes that in the price.  So you kind of forget about it. 

Over a certain value, Polandtaxes things that are sent through the mail.  I think this applies to gifts as well.  Wouldn’t that be a slap in the face, to pay taxes on a gift?

Anyways…we had to pay not only 22%, but they tacked on an extra 10% for some reason.  This was not cheap.  In fact, because we had to pay so much, the cashier told us we had to go the post office down the street to pay, because she isn’t allowed to accept that much money.  She told us to get our receipt stamped and hurry back, because they close at 2:30. 

After this adventure in bureaucracy for just a simple package, I was severely dreading having to turn in my residence card application.  Eric has a 3-year visa but mine is only for one year and will expire in the middle of August.  Since I don’t want to be deported (just one of those things), I diligently filled out the form, made all the requested copies and tried to be very thorough.  The other Olmsteders in Poland had given me fair warning about the trials and tribulations.

What I’m expecting:  huge line, clerk that is annoyed that I don’t understand Polish perfectly, requirements for additional documentation, etc.

What I find:  no line, a very pleasant lady who spoke English, and only one additional requirement which I had at home.  Fabulous!

Now that I say that, they’ll probably deny my application.