Helvetic Administration Nightmare (Part I)

or to make it short: HAN, in the following. That's what I'm living these days and I have strong indications that it's gonna last for a little while. From a blogging point of view, such an ongoing story is perfect. It keeps the readers (are there any, by the way?) in suspense and I don't have to rack my brain to find little stories to tell. That's a little consolation because in real life, well... it ain't that funny. At all. A real nightmare.

Everything started with my change of status last September 1, when I stopped working for CERN in Switzerland (and I'm not speaking about financial issues, here). The day before, on a sunny Friday, I had to give back my "carte de légitimation", aka The Magic Card. Basically, this document is the living/working permit in Switzerland for anyone working for an international organization (such as CERN, UNO, or many others in Geneva). Without it, I am kindly asked to leave Switzerland unless I want to enjoy a bit more the Swiss life, its mountains and chocolate, in which case I need to ask specifically for another living permit. The request needs to be done in the three months which follow the arrival in Switzerland, or the loss of a previous permit. Still living in Geneva, I therefore have to "submit" my application before Nov 31st, after which I'll know wether I am still allowed to live in Geneva. So far, so good.

Car plates in Switzerland are not screwed, since they are not assigned to a given car but rather to the car owner. That is, should I have another car, I could use the same plates for both cars. A couple of weeks ago, I lost my car rear plate (lost or stolen, doesn't matter). I phoned immediately to the "Service de la Navigation" to know how I should proceed. Simple: I need to wait for 10 days before changing plates just in case these are regained in the meantime. I then ask the GPD, Geneva Police Department, which informs me that they would tolerate that I drive during that period. Meaning actually: as long as a I stay in the Canton de Genève, of course. In other words, I am not supposed to drive in France without a plate, which kind of makes sense of course. Except that I need to go to France because this is where I work, and that there's no way to commute with public transport. Not so good.

Each of the following 10 days, I had a little apprehension when crossing the border, hoping that the French customers would not notice my lack of plate (even though I posted a piece of paper in the rear window). Luckily, they only realize this at the end of that plateless period: the guy was pretty upset, threatened to fine me, but let me go in the end. Of course, I should not try to pass the border again (at least in that specific point customs house) but since the ten days were over, I would retrieve my good old plate or they would provide me with another one. This will be reported in... a coming post!