registering with the police

I did eventually go into work, where I spent two hours (maybe less) helping Kati put posters up in the English rooms. Then we went to the police to register me. That was an experience - imagine everything you can about the stereotypical Eastern European, old-school Communist-holdover bureaucracy, put it into a clean, new building, and add a wait of almost two hours, and there it is. At about an hour-and-a-half, Kati let out a little mini-rant, but other than that is was quiet, clean, and cold. Like a tomb. But despite Kati’s expectations that they would make us find more paperwork or pay for stamps, they decided that I’m not going to blow anything up or cause (too much) trouble, so I got my residence permit, or whatever it is, and godwilling we will never have to go back there again.