Post Office Bride

It's complicated to get all the paperwork to live in Norway.  There is such a strong social system here that the government can be stringent about who can and cannot stay in the country.  

Sure there could be ways around it, I guess, but everything depends on a personal ID number which comes with the visa.  Without one, you cannot register to see a doctor, get a bank account, apply for a work permit, etc... It's a pretty big deal. I'm semi-unclear about some of the details, but for a variety of reason, I needed to register. 

So on Friday morning, we gathered my stack of papers and headed to the police station.  Which is pretty swanky as police stations go.  It's open and airy and art is hanging on the wall. No rotten criminals or unattractive mugshots.

My stack of papers, included, but was not limited to our marriage license, my birth certificate, applications, a copy of my passport, photos and Husband's financial statements.  We had heard that that last was ultra important because we have to prove that I have some means of support, to illustrate that I will not get here and then start applying for monies from the state.

We thought that it would be relatively easy for me.  Husband lived and worked here for more than three years, so instead of just a work permit, he has a settlement permit, meaning that he doesn't have to reapply and can stay as long as he would like. 

Well, as we stepped up to the window, we realized that I actually needed a Family Reunification Visa, which is loads more expensive and also has more criteria involved. 

The woman behind the desk flips through our paperwork and asks to see Husband's passport. She takes it away to make a copy of it for my file. Then when we ask how long it will be for the visa to come back, she laughs a bit and says perhaps five to six months.

Then she asks if I am a Post Office Bride.  

Because Husband is not Norwegian, but has a Settlement Permit, we are in a special category. 

The office is sending my application to Oslo, where it will go into a pile of applications.  Then when it comes to our turn, they will compare the travel reflected on my passport with the travel reflected on Husband's. 

They want to make sure we've been in the same places at the same times and that he didn't just pick me out of a catalogue. 

Which, while annoying to be sure, it's really pretty funny.  Sometimes the truth is only just a shade off.