On the Registering of a Jeep in Kosovo...

This morning I finally got off my lazy ass and set off into the wilds of Kosovo in order to register my Jeep so I can drive it legally. I thought this would only take two or three hours tops but little did I know what kind of shenanigans I was getting myself into. I drove into the center of Ferizaj, found an insurance company and, in broken Spanish (the guy knew Italian) and Albanian Engrish, attempted to buy an insurance policy. This was actually the smoothest part of the day and went pretty well.

After getting the policy I had to get the Jeep inspected and here was where the fun started. The inspection place is on the other side of town so I followed the sales guy and another customer through the streets of Ferizaj. The inspection itself went fine but while preparing my paperwork, the inspector noticed that the Customs officials (I had cleared my jeep with Customs a few weeks ago) had entered some incorrect information on the import documents, the correct information being necessary to register the jeep.

To fix this, I had to drive 30 miles south of Ferizaj, through the mountains, to the customs terminal at Hani I Elezit. I fought my way through a crowd of unbathed Albanian truckers and asked the first uniformed officer I saw, "Anglisht?". No Anglisht. But 5 minutes later and English speaker showed up to help me. Unfortunately their station chief was needed in order to correct the documents because this guy didn't have high enough computer privileges so I had to wait an hour for the chief to return from lunch.

With corrected customs documents in hand I headed back to the insurance office in Ferizaj so the salesdude could fix my insurance policy (he had copied down the incorrect customs info). Valid insurance in hand, I fought my way across town to the Kosovar Department of Motor Vehicles (not actually called this but you get the point). Fighting my way through another crowd of Albanians (they don't understand the concept of lines) I asked the harried-looking lady, "Anglisht?". No. But someone there did. And she helped me. Thankfully, all my paperwork was in order but I needed to pay various registration fees, for which she prepared two forms, and these had to be paid and receipted at a bank. There is no bank nearby. Again, I set off across town, this time fighting the afternoon rush hour traffic in a city of 85,000 but no traffic lights.

I decided to go back to the bank where I had paid for the insurance because, presumably, they would remember me and could speak some English. The cute teller took my euros while her coworkers smiled and giggled at me in Albanian. Fees paid, it was back to the registration office. Not even 20 meters away from the front door of the bank, I rear-end some guy in his "mint-condition" 1989 Volkswagen Golf. It was stop-and-go traffic; I went and he stopped. Out of the car he comes, yelling in Albanian. I smile and ask, "Anglisht?". No. But some thoughtful onlooker thinks to ask me, "sprechen zie Deutsch?". I respond with "nicht Deutsch" which was obviously a lie since I knew enough to say "nicht Deutsch". I show the guy my insurance policy but apparently he didn't want anything to do with that. I didn't really want to make a claim on the policy on the very day I bought it, either. So in the interests of a) not involving the authorities, b) getting the hell out of a very busy intersection during the very busy rush hour, and (not least) c) not pissing this guy off so much that the next time he saw my jeep he would throw a grenade at me, I gave him 50 euros which he took with a smile. Relieved, I cautiously made my way back to the registration office.

I walked through the door with less than 10 minutes to closing time. All the locals have gone and I hand my paperwork back to the nice English-speaking lady who helped me earlier. All my paperwork is in order, the fee receipts are tallied, and I'm missing the 3rd fee. For which she had not given me a form. So now it's back to the dance tomorrow...