2017
City M.
June 8
Through the park, by bus, by metro, through a construction site, past a kindergarten. A white building behind a fence. Numbers on the gate, waiting outside. Nobody knows the exact list of required documents.
Two hours and two minutes in line. Desk No. 1. Document check.
September 21
Through the park, by bus, by metro, through the construction site, past the kindergarten. White building behind the fence. Numbers on the gate, waiting outside.
Sixteen minutes in line. Desk No. 2. Passport submission.
September 29
Through the park, by bus, by metro, through the construction site. I tripped. Blood running from a scraped knee, palms raw. Past the kindergarten. White building behind the fence. Numbers on the gate, we wait outside.
Two minutes in line. Desk No. 2. Passport with a new one-year Czech visa. Data check.
City O.
October 2
By car to the parking lot. A gray building. Stairs, the guard, unlocked doors. The ticket machine seems older than me. Ticket. I sit down.
Fourteen minutes in line. Registration in the Czech Republic. A red stamp in the passport. Data check. There’s a typo in the surname.
2018
August 14
Trolleybus, tram, shortcut across the parking lot. A gray building. Stairs, the guard, unlocked doors, to the right for a ticket. Ticket. I sit down. Vietnamese families come here together. I feel alone. Reading the Czech Ministry of Interior statistics. Anička said the clerk at Desk No. 10 is kind.
One hour and thirty-seven minutes in line. Counter No. 10. Submission check. I must bring confirmation of study.
November 5
The decision arrived.
November 6
Fifteen minutes in line. Submission of biometric data. Photograph taken.
November 14
One hour and thirty-two minutes in line. Desk No. 9. First residence permit card. Data check.
2021
City B.
July 7
Online registration for applying to extend a long-term residence permit.
August 30
Through the park, by bus, another bus, by walk, following arrows. A pale green building with dark green stripes. Heavy doors, stairs, large waiting room. In line for tickets, I spoke to a girl from Thailand. Half an hour waiting for tickets. The line doesn’t move. We find out that people with online reservations don’t need to queue. Ticket. We sit down. The waiting room is big, but overcrowded. Heat, dizziness. Windows sealed shut, no air conditioning, no ventilation. The respirator makes me short of breath.
Fifty-one minutes in line. Desk No. 16. The clerk loses his temper. Says my documents are fine, but I should have sent them by post.
I’m relieved I don’t have to bring a confirmation of study. A hard day for everyone.
November 2
No decision yet. I need a visa sticker, but there are no free slots in the reservation system.
Through the park, by bus, another bus, by walk, following arrows. Pale green building with dark green stripes. Heavy doors, stairs, waiting room. I arrived at ten, but it’s already too late for walk-in tickets.
November 3
Early morning by car across the city, two traffic jams, parking lot. Pale green building. Heavy doors, stairs, waiting room. Second in line for tickets. A few minutes waiting. Ticket. I sit down.
For the first two hours, I was tense, watching every number called. Each person needs about 6 minutes at the desk. By the ticket numbers, I’ll be called no earlier than 4 p.m.
Across the waiting room, down the stairs, through the heavy doors outside. First respirator into the trash. Too cold to sit outside, so I go to the store. Buy Haribo Primavera strawberries and National Geographic. Around the building, up through the heavy doors to the waiting room. Sit down. Check my number. One page of National Geographic is torn in half. I immerse myself in a world outside the waiting room. Half the magazine read. Can’t go further. Across the waiting room, down the stairs, out through the heavy doors. Second respirator into the trash.
In the building next door, there is a Bistro. Expensive but good food. Back around, through the heavy doors up to the waiting room. Sit down. Check my number. Again, I drift away into another world. Phone dead. Magazine finished. Watching people. A multicultural stew in respirators. I wondered how many of us get sick after today at the Department for Asylum and Migration Policy of the Czech Republic.
Seven and a half hours in line. Desk No. 15. The clerk doesn’t believe I’ve sat there all day. She asks if I’ve eaten. She’s very kind. I get a two-month visa sticker.
December 22
The decision arrived. Maybe a gift from baby Jesus. Online registration for submitting biometric data.
2022
January 3
By car across the city, two traffic jams, parking lot. Pale green building. Heavy doors, stairs, waiting room. No line for tickets. Only a few people are inside. Ticket. I sit down.
Twenty-two minutes in line. Desk No. 22. Submission of biometric data. Photograph taken.
January 19
Twenty-four minutes in line. Counter No. 20. Residence permit card. Data check.
July 18
On foot through the park, trolleybus, small shopping center by the stop, post office. Envelope, documents checked, stamps, copies. Sent.
August 1
Client center for foreigners’ information, “please hold the line.” Elevator music. I wanted to check if documents had arrived, but the decision was already made. I booked a slot for biometric submission.
August 23
Fourteen minutes in line. Desk No. 22. Submission of biometric data. Photograph taken.
August 29
Crowded waiting room. A very nervous couple sits in front of me. The woman is heavily pregnant.
Eighteen minutes in line. Desk No. 20. Residence permit card. Data check. The clerk gave me someone else’s permit by mistake.
September 19
Notification of data change submitted.
October 6
Client center for foreigners’ information, “please hold the line.” Elevator music. Documents arrived safely. Booking a biometric submission appointment.
October 11
Eleven minutes in line. Desk No. 22. Submission of biometric data. Photograph taken.
October 25
Twenty-six minutes in line. Desk No. 20. Residence permit card. Data check.
