Thursday, May 20, 2010

Anne Becomes Dutch

It all started on the 24th of August 2007. That is the date that Ann first applied for her Dutch passport.

After hundreds of phone calls, at least fifty times to the department of internal confusion, sometimes at 5 in the morning to stand in the queue, only to find that the immigration department was closed, she finally got her decree to say that she could apply for a passport.

The immigration department in St Maarten is run by a bunch of lazy, incompetent bureaucrats. They are part of the civil service, but believe me the are neither civil nor do they serve. I even had to phone the department one day when a Yolanda Killsdonk slammed the phone down in Anne's ear. Normally I keep in the background. But this time I stripped my moer, and phoned her back and gave her a verbal rubdown.

But Anne is tenatious and against all odds she succeeded. So yesterday we off to the "ceremony" at 2:45 and Anne is fretting because the traffic is slow and we might be late.

Not me. I know that St Maarten is like Africa. No one is ever on time. And so it was. The ABCD ( Antillean Big Chief Dude) walks in half an hour late to conduct the ceremony. His name is Lt.Govenor F. Richards and he is actually a nice guy.

So when it is Annes turn to walk up to the ABCD and do the oath bit she raises her LEFT hand instead of her right ( hey, we both left-handed). I said to her that while she was doing the thing, she must just glance at me because I would be video-ing it .

So check out the video. She looks so much at me sitting off to one side that ABCD askes her to look at the camera guy in front of her. Then everybody looks to where she is looking and they see me with the camera and all the people burst into laughter. It was soooo funny.

The vid is a bit small so you got to watch it on full screen.

Watch how her head swivels around.

Then there was the photo thing with ABCD in the center.

Done Baby!

Then we went to Holland House for a couple of drinks.

We thought the name was somewhat fitting.

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