Yesterday we successfully went to the tax office and got our tax numbers (sort of like Turkish social security numbers). It’s funny how seemingly simple tasks become a bigger deal in a new place, especially with the language problem. We entered the building and were told by a friendly guard/receptionist where to go for the tax numbers. Then we stood in front of this desk, behind which a woman was sitting, engrossed in some paperwork. We just stood there mute for a few minutes, hoping that she would look up and ask what we wanted. We weren’t sure what the procedure was, if this was the right desk, Aaaahh! I kept trying to push Richie to ask her, then he would do the same to me.
Finally, I just said ‘tax number?’ in a quizzical sort of way, and she gave me a weary smile and nodded. So, we handed over our passports, filled in a short form, and sat to wait. After about 15-20 minutes we were given our little cards with our tax numbers on them.
These cards are pretty funny. They are just paper, two small pieces held together with about six staples, with our names and tax numbers hand written on the front and a couple of government stamps on each side. They look pretty ghetto. But, now we’re in the ‘system’, one step closer to opening up a bank account and one step closer to Richie getting his residence permit! It was a success!