See, the thing about Greece is, for all the negatives and the gripes - indeed the justifiable gripes - we have about the endless bureaucracy one has to endure here, sometimes she surprises you.
We finally had all the bits of paper we needed in order to get our driving licences converted to Greek ones and, following the advice of a few friends and the woman in the KEP office at Arhangelos, we decided to go straight to the KTEO office in town to get the process finally under way. We thought about going on a Monday, but then remembered that, apart from the national 'yiortes' they have every five minutes over here, which have often in the past meant we'd gone all the way to town only to find everything closed, there is a selection of local ones too that can often catch you unawares and again find offices closed on a Monday.
So, we decided to go last Friday. Nice ordinary weekday that Friday is, right?
Wrong.
After almost an hour in the car, we drove into the KTEO compound, parked up, grabbed the huge file off the back seat and made our way into the building. Once inside we were struck by the decided lack of people. Wandering along the corridor to the office where we'd been before, we found the door closed and the dreaded A4 print-out stuck to the outside saying: Office hours 8.00am - 2.00pm Monday to Thursday. Closed on Fridays.
We are talking about a government department here, right? I mean, one which exists for the benefit of the populace, yeah?
I can't even begin to describe how we felt right at that moment, except that, trying hard as we are these days to keep looking for the positives, we decided to shoot on into town and have a wander around the shops, where the sales are still on, and have a drink somewhere, plus maybe lunch. The driving licence applications could wait a few more days. We'd go this time to the KEP office in Lardos village and hope for the best.
Thus, we found ourselves half an hour later wandering around town and sitting in one of our fave little cafés, People & People, right along the front at Mandraki harbour...
So, to continue with the saga, and arrive at the bit where you understand the reason for the title of this post. Last Tuesday we set off for Lardos, which is mercifully only ten minutes drive up the road for us. A good friend had told us that the bloke in the KEP office there was very nice and helpful. That remained to be seen. Going into the office I saw a man sitting at a desk in the first room to my right, and he didn't have any customers! That's a first in itself. I asked him where we needed to go to get our driving licences transferred and, guess what, he said "I'll do it."
I wasn't sure I'd heard him right. The better half was already in another office waiting to ask there, so I called her back rather over-enthusiastically and we sat ourselves down in front of him. After a brief explanation about how we'd been to KEP in Arhangelos, then to KTEO in town, and how I'd gone and got my extra paperwork from the cardiologist and the ophthalmic surgeon, plus paid my two extra 'parabola', I thrust my big fat folder at him. If you saw the photo in the previous post about this saga, you'll just about make out the large cardboard folder under all that paperwork. This was what the fella in the KTEO office had put all my paperwork in (well, the stuff I had up that point, which was still a long way from all of it). This folder, now contained everything (or so I believed) required for my licence conversion to begin.
The man opened the folder and I experienced feelings like ...how can I compare them? It was like waiting to hear the results of some serious medical test, or to hear if I had qualified for a brilliant job I'd been interviewed for. Heart firmly in mouth, I waited while he carefully examined every sheet of paper very slowly. Just when I was certain that he was going to say, "Well, you still haven't got your..." he said, "OK."
That was it, "OK." I've never felt so relieved in all my life. Well, maybe once when I got away with sneaking in at three in the morning when I was still only 16. My parents didn't even hear my turning up on my Lambretta. He began typing at his keyboard, and the process was under way. As he was about half-way through preparing the paperwork that he'd be printing out for me to keep in the car in case the Police stop me while I'm waiting for my new licence, I showed him my wife's paperwork too, adding, "She's a little younger than me, look how much less paperwork she needs, eh?" Her papers were in a see-thru plastic folder.
"Um," he said, "you don't have a 'fakelo?' You don't have a folder to keep your wife's papers in?" Here we go, yet another problem threatening to put a stop on things.
"It's all there." I replied, "Everything she needs, it's all there."
"But it needs to be in folder like yours. Where did you get your folder? Didn't you get two, one for each of you?" I've got to be honest, he wasn't being awkward, he was charm and civility itself, but it still didn't alter the fact that we were one folder down.
"The man in the KTEO office gave me that folder," I replied. "He never got around to looking at my wife's papers, after he'd spent a quarter of an hour explaining all the extra stuff that I was going to need."
"Well, I'm sorry, but I need your wife's papers to be in a folder like yours."
Just when we were envisioning a mad dash 20 km up the road to the stationers in Arhangelos, with the probability that we wouldn't get back here before his office closed for the day, he saved the situation. What a nice chap.
"You can get one in the stationers here in the village..." Now, not in a million years would I have thought there was a stationers in Lardos, a village of just about 1,000 souls. But, when he described where it is, we remembered. It's a tiny shop where we used to go to buy newspapers, down a backstreet. So I suggested my sweetie go off and purchase her folder while our friend behind the desk got on with finishing processing my licence first.
It was not more that two or there minutes walk from the KEP office, which was why I was just beginning to worry when she hadn't returned after a quarter of an hour. The KEP man had finished my conversion paperwork and had printed out the forms I was to keep, when she eventually came back through the door, and she was carrying a folder of the correct size and design. Phew.
"Sorry I took so long. The place was closed. There's a stairway beside the door, leading up to a flat above. So I went up there, but it was an Albanian couple living there and they couldn't help. Coming back down I saw an old papou in the yard next-door. He said, 'You want Maria? Hold on.' With that he let out a banshee's cry of 'Mariiiiiiaaaaa!' - but it worked. Out of nowhere appeared this little old lady, who scuffled to the front door of the shop and opened it. Seems she only ever opens up when someone shouts for her. Anyway, she had the right kind of folders and this one set me back €1.20. All's well that ends well."
Thus it was, my friends, that half an hour after entering the KEP office at Lardos, feeling extremely dubious about the chances of success, we emerged with our "Statement of Driving Licence Conversion", one each, and a feeling of relief that probably exceeds even that experienced by someone who's just got over a particularly bad bout of constipation.
The chap behind the desk in the KEP office at Lardos knew how to treat his clientele, and we really liked him. He told he that he'd be phoning us when our new Greek licences arrived, which probably won't be for a few months yet. We don't care, as long as we have the appropriate paperwork to show that the process is under way (which includes photocopies of our current licences anyway) we're in fairyland right now.
Changing the subject completely, we've finally hit on some normal winter weather, after what was officially the wettest January for decades. Yesterday, we went to visit a friend in Lindos, who was out. Never mind, we sat outside for a drink at the Ice Bar and then took a wander through the village. It was too warm to keep our jackets on much of the time. Here are some photos, hope you like them...
One more for you. This morning it's very warm, but hazy. It's shirtsleeve weather outside, but the sea is as calm as a kitchen worktop, plus, with the haze you can't see the horizon. Thus, this tanker, anchored in the bay, looks like it's in the sky...
We finally had all the bits of paper we needed in order to get our driving licences converted to Greek ones and, following the advice of a few friends and the woman in the KEP office at Arhangelos, we decided to go straight to the KTEO office in town to get the process finally under way. We thought about going on a Monday, but then remembered that, apart from the national 'yiortes' they have every five minutes over here, which have often in the past meant we'd gone all the way to town only to find everything closed, there is a selection of local ones too that can often catch you unawares and again find offices closed on a Monday.
So, we decided to go last Friday. Nice ordinary weekday that Friday is, right?
Wrong.
After almost an hour in the car, we drove into the KTEO compound, parked up, grabbed the huge file off the back seat and made our way into the building. Once inside we were struck by the decided lack of people. Wandering along the corridor to the office where we'd been before, we found the door closed and the dreaded A4 print-out stuck to the outside saying: Office hours 8.00am - 2.00pm Monday to Thursday. Closed on Fridays.
We are talking about a government department here, right? I mean, one which exists for the benefit of the populace, yeah?
I can't even begin to describe how we felt right at that moment, except that, trying hard as we are these days to keep looking for the positives, we decided to shoot on into town and have a wander around the shops, where the sales are still on, and have a drink somewhere, plus maybe lunch. The driving licence applications could wait a few more days. We'd go this time to the KEP office in Lardos village and hope for the best.
Thus, we found ourselves half an hour later wandering around town and sitting in one of our fave little cafés, People & People, right along the front at Mandraki harbour...
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| It's green tea, OK? NOT beer!! I'm on a bit of a de-tox right now. The better half was drinking filter coffee. |
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| I know, considering the fact that it was a wasted journey, she looks surprisingly upbeat. Well, we did hit the shops I suppose... |
I wasn't sure I'd heard him right. The better half was already in another office waiting to ask there, so I called her back rather over-enthusiastically and we sat ourselves down in front of him. After a brief explanation about how we'd been to KEP in Arhangelos, then to KTEO in town, and how I'd gone and got my extra paperwork from the cardiologist and the ophthalmic surgeon, plus paid my two extra 'parabola', I thrust my big fat folder at him. If you saw the photo in the previous post about this saga, you'll just about make out the large cardboard folder under all that paperwork. This was what the fella in the KTEO office had put all my paperwork in (well, the stuff I had up that point, which was still a long way from all of it). This folder, now contained everything (or so I believed) required for my licence conversion to begin.
The man opened the folder and I experienced feelings like ...how can I compare them? It was like waiting to hear the results of some serious medical test, or to hear if I had qualified for a brilliant job I'd been interviewed for. Heart firmly in mouth, I waited while he carefully examined every sheet of paper very slowly. Just when I was certain that he was going to say, "Well, you still haven't got your..." he said, "OK."
That was it, "OK." I've never felt so relieved in all my life. Well, maybe once when I got away with sneaking in at three in the morning when I was still only 16. My parents didn't even hear my turning up on my Lambretta. He began typing at his keyboard, and the process was under way. As he was about half-way through preparing the paperwork that he'd be printing out for me to keep in the car in case the Police stop me while I'm waiting for my new licence, I showed him my wife's paperwork too, adding, "She's a little younger than me, look how much less paperwork she needs, eh?" Her papers were in a see-thru plastic folder.
"Um," he said, "you don't have a 'fakelo?' You don't have a folder to keep your wife's papers in?" Here we go, yet another problem threatening to put a stop on things.
"It's all there." I replied, "Everything she needs, it's all there."
"But it needs to be in folder like yours. Where did you get your folder? Didn't you get two, one for each of you?" I've got to be honest, he wasn't being awkward, he was charm and civility itself, but it still didn't alter the fact that we were one folder down.
"The man in the KTEO office gave me that folder," I replied. "He never got around to looking at my wife's papers, after he'd spent a quarter of an hour explaining all the extra stuff that I was going to need."
"Well, I'm sorry, but I need your wife's papers to be in a folder like yours."
Just when we were envisioning a mad dash 20 km up the road to the stationers in Arhangelos, with the probability that we wouldn't get back here before his office closed for the day, he saved the situation. What a nice chap.
"You can get one in the stationers here in the village..." Now, not in a million years would I have thought there was a stationers in Lardos, a village of just about 1,000 souls. But, when he described where it is, we remembered. It's a tiny shop where we used to go to buy newspapers, down a backstreet. So I suggested my sweetie go off and purchase her folder while our friend behind the desk got on with finishing processing my licence first.
It was not more that two or there minutes walk from the KEP office, which was why I was just beginning to worry when she hadn't returned after a quarter of an hour. The KEP man had finished my conversion paperwork and had printed out the forms I was to keep, when she eventually came back through the door, and she was carrying a folder of the correct size and design. Phew.
"Sorry I took so long. The place was closed. There's a stairway beside the door, leading up to a flat above. So I went up there, but it was an Albanian couple living there and they couldn't help. Coming back down I saw an old papou in the yard next-door. He said, 'You want Maria? Hold on.' With that he let out a banshee's cry of 'Mariiiiiiaaaaa!' - but it worked. Out of nowhere appeared this little old lady, who scuffled to the front door of the shop and opened it. Seems she only ever opens up when someone shouts for her. Anyway, she had the right kind of folders and this one set me back €1.20. All's well that ends well."
Thus it was, my friends, that half an hour after entering the KEP office at Lardos, feeling extremely dubious about the chances of success, we emerged with our "Statement of Driving Licence Conversion", one each, and a feeling of relief that probably exceeds even that experienced by someone who's just got over a particularly bad bout of constipation.
The chap behind the desk in the KEP office at Lardos knew how to treat his clientele, and we really liked him. He told he that he'd be phoning us when our new Greek licences arrived, which probably won't be for a few months yet. We don't care, as long as we have the appropriate paperwork to show that the process is under way (which includes photocopies of our current licences anyway) we're in fairyland right now.
•
Changing the subject completely, we've finally hit on some normal winter weather, after what was officially the wettest January for decades. Yesterday, we went to visit a friend in Lindos, who was out. Never mind, we sat outside for a drink at the Ice Bar and then took a wander through the village. It was too warm to keep our jackets on much of the time. Here are some photos, hope you like them...
 |
| OK, so I'm drinking a filter coffee. A week without any coffee was enough! But I'm still de-toxing everything else, honest. |
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| The anemones are truly miraculous this year. These are on the bank above the archeological ruin/stoneyard just beside Krana Square. |
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| Old Kleo standing sentinel. |
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| Winter on Rhodes. Even with all the rain we've had, it ain't bad is it? |
One more for you. This morning it's very warm, but hazy. It's shirtsleeve weather outside, but the sea is as calm as a kitchen worktop, plus, with the haze you can't see the horizon. Thus, this tanker, anchored in the bay, looks like it's in the sky...
 |
| The ship in the sky? |
lovely realistic read, love your sense of humour John when others may lose theirs under the circumstances!!!
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