My {Bad} Day in Marrakech

Today I ventured deep into the heart of Moroccan bureaucracy, alone and unaided. I made it out alive too. I took a lease on a new apartment and this involves a plethora of paperwork and Olympian stamina. Proof of identity, proof of workplace in both French and English, proof of money in the bank, more proof of identity plus a mound of cash and and an even bigger mound of patience is needed. Once the lease agreement is typed up, using the advanced hunt and peck typing style, a foray to a council chambers must take place for legalisation, a lengthy and bamboozeling procedure. Amidst a seething crowd of others all waving pastel paperwork, the correct offices must be located. I lined up at three different desks piled high with rulers, ink pads and ledgers, signed my name no less than10 times and purchased 3 green ‘postage type’ stamps for 20 MAD each. Red rubber stamps in triplicate now adorn each of my dozen or so pieces of paper that make up the official agreements. I actually do not know what I have agreed to but live in hope that at the end of the day it involves a door key and a roof over my head for the next year.

Comments

[Katie]

You didn't have to have multiple copies of your electric bill????? Nothing can get done in France without at least 2 copies of the EDF bill. I always have a spare on hand lol.
And now they don't even send them to us, I have to print my own from their site....