Call me a masochist, but yesterday I went for glory. Not only did I make it to the Transport Ministry, I also made it to the Ministry of Interior! With Juniorette in tow. The two most dreaded places in an expat's world (if ever there were places designed to make you feel inferior, these are the places), all wrapped up in one glorious bureaufest, complete with a biscuit infested littl'un. Howsabout that then boys and girls? Call me a sucker for bureaucracy but I managed to do the following:
- Add Juniorette to my and the missus' ID cards
- Get an Israeli passport for Juniorette (Ingerlund here we come!)
- Get my Israeli passport extended
- Renew my Israeli driving license (surely the lamest money-making exercise in the book?)
And I even managed to piss off a local by apparently pushing in line. Not that she was in line, of course, she was stood to the side. But hell, there was no way she was giving up her 30cm of potential queuedom without a fight. And she had a pram too. For one second I envisaged this pram tussle, with Juniorette reaching across and slapping the bejesus out of the other wee one. And Juniorette would have won, hands down. Fuck me, this country has made me way too aggressive...