The Romanian guy who went to Poland

After finally convincing our landlady to allow me to register in her flat (it is said that
the Polish law is so absurd that once you register your stay in a house, you cannot unregister, and abuses may arise in such way that one can stop paying the rent and owner cannot legally evacuate him), today we went to do it. It went fine. From there they directed me to another office (supposedly the immigration office). Of course, after being sent from a room to another, I found out that it was the wrong building, wrong office, wrong address. I went to the right one. I knew that I didn't have all the documents I needed, so I went there only to ask what else I needed. Apparently only the health insurance (as a freelancer the company for which I'm working does not provide me with one), since my emergency tourist's health insurance didn't fit. OK, I said to myself, this is easy. I knew that in Bucharest for example, there are dozens of insurance companies and most of the banks have also insurance branches. After wandering about an hour in the center of the city, I finally realized that it might not be that easy. Every bank clerk was grimacing at my unusual request. 'Co? Nie, nie!' No Allianz, no ING, no Generali, no Comercial Union to be seen. As I was walking with to snow blowing in my face I saw the Deutsche Bank logo. I walked there, and it was indeed, a Deutsche Bank office. I said to myself, damn they must have it. And they did. The first lady that I talked to didn't speak English so she brought a colleague of hers. When explaining to him what I need it for and how it should look like, they told me it's impossible. You cannot sign a basic health insurance with a private insurance company. You have to be insured in the public health insurance system and then, if you want a better treatment while being hospitalized in the (lousy) Polish hospitals, you can sign an additional, private one as well. Nevertheless, I felt they were on my side. The lady offered to phone the immigration office herself to ask for more details. She had been on the phone for more than 20 min., when she started quarreling with that clerk. I could feel a whole war between systems in her voice, the public and the private one. Efficency fighting the unyielding, long-lasting bureaucracy. Thank you Mrs. Ewa Czyrz, you have been my heroine today. Even though (after talking myself to that gentleman) we could not understand exactly what I needed...
So here I am, going back to the immigration office. On the way there I discovered that the document registering me in the flat I live in contained a rather smaaaall error: instead of 01.02 it was written 02.01 (2nd of January), so practically one month less. I can't even get the living permit with it, so I'll have to change it tomorrow. It shouldn't be that difficult :))
In the immigration office, finding it impossible to give me a better solution regarding the health insurance they decided to solve me some other way. 'I have talked to my superior and we agreed that in fact you do not need a living permit after all.' 'But my employer poses it to me as a condition of signing the contract. I will be staying illegally in Poland if I don't get one' 'No, relax, it's OK'. So he was practically advising me to break the law. Or maybe he was just wishing that I got back to my home country (repatriated) and stop bothering him with my problems. After experiences like this one, I might as well return to Romania.
The funny thing is that today, after googling a bit, I found out that in most of the EU countries, including Romania, the living permit (for periods of more than 90 days) is optional for EU citizens.

Heeei, tramvai!

Un lucru pe care polonezii nu'l suporta - sa stea in picioare in tramvai. Pesemne s'ar simti aiurea in tramvai, nu stiu, insa nu vrei sa stai in calea cuiva atunci cand e pe cale sa isi revendice vreun loc in mijloacele krakowiene de transport in comun. Si nu vorbesc de persoane 50+ si nici de locurile rezervate, caci lucrurile ar fi cu atat mai grave in astfel de situatii. Daca cineva te'a impins, si dupa ce iti verifici portofelul realizezi ca e la locul lui, inseamna ca pe undeva pe langa tine e un loc liber. Asa ca te dai la o parte din calea nefericitului. Alte motive sa te impinga cineva nu prea am intalnit. Ar face orice sa puna mana (sau fundul) pe un scaun liber. De multe ori, doamnele se urca in tramvai, vaneaza un loc (sau ridica pe vreun tanar), isi lasa poseta pe el si apoi pleaca in cautarea unui compostor, uneori destul de departe chiar. Iar odata ce'au sezut, nu se ridica inainte sa coboare. Am vazut o intamplare de'a dreptul infioratoare. O tanara doamna ii arata cu degetul unei oarbe care incerca sa se aseze peste ea crezand ca locul este liber, ii arata unde este un alt loc liber. Insa nu s'ar fi ridicat sa sa duca insasi catre acel loc. Ii era teama. Insa experienta de azi m'a pus pe ganduri. Ma urc in vagonul din spate al tramvaiului, fara sa ma preocupe faptul ca e mult mai gol decat primul. De fapt nici n-am bagat de seama astfel de detalii. Oricum, ca idee, in general ultimul vagon e cel mai liber. Ma asez pe un scaun dintre cele multe libere si imediat dupa ce se inchid usile ma izbeste drept in fata un miros intepator de cacat. Mi'am zis initial, ridicandu'ma si indreptandu'ma catre celalalt capat al vagonului ca pesemne sunt doar fructe, fermentate... Dar mirosul ma urmarea cu aceeasi persistenta, incat, pentru cateva momente eram ingrijorat ca ar putea fi de la mine. Ma blocasem, pur si simplu. Eram blocat pana la urmatoarea statie. Mi s'a parut atat de mult. Nu sunt scarbos din fire dar mirosea mai rau decat in orice buda in care fusesem, chiar mai rau ca in haznalele de la tara. Ceilalti, destul de multi de altfel, cat sa acopere cam toate scaunele, nu pareau sa se sinchiseasca prea mult. E adevarat, unii isi puneau ceva la nas, altii doar il si'l strambau, dar nimeni nu m'a urmat la prima statie in celalalt vagon, mult mai aglomerat si fara nici un loc liber. Abia la a doua, am vazut o cucoana care, recunoscandu'ma, imi marturiseste ca ea nu mai putea. Am coborat in sfarsit la Dworcowa, si am privit trecand pe langa mine, vagonul din urma in care cei cel putin 10 oameni isi acopereau nasurile cu hainele sau cu fularele, dar erau totusi fericiti, pentru ca erau asezati. As putea ghici ca in sinea lor se simteau mai norocosi decat suckerii din primul vagon care stateau in picioare.