Citizenships, marriage, and taxes.

You would assume that marrying someone from a different country is hard, it is, but it's not the culture or language barrier that is the most difficult, no, it's the visas. Ahh, the headaches we went through in order for me to finally stay here in Sweden. Now, after many sleepless nights, I am a Swedish citizen, but it's not over, nope, we get to start anew with Christofer!

 Waking up at 7a.m, driving through Stockholm traffic, paying a ridiculous parking fee, and then having to wait in line, outside, in the rain. Finally when they call your name, you have to surrender all your personal possessions. your mobile phones, your coats, your headphones, your books, 'Wait, is that a candy bar. Give it here. Might be some gun powder in that thing.'  Through the metal detector and in to an even longer line. I almost forgot to mention the pile of forms and papers you need to fill in, print, and sign, prior to and while in line. To make matters worse, when we finally made it to the little window, that is your only view and contact with the 'embassy clerks'. People, who in general, are picked for their rude manners and cold stares. I'm almost positive that it must be the main requirement to work for Embassies:

 Hiring officer: 'Can you be a bad ass?'

 Employee to be: 'Yes,'

 Hiring officer: 'At all times? No matter if a beautiful woman,a generally nice guy, or a cute kids walk in?'

 Empolyee to be: 'Yes, especially if its cute kids. I hate kids, I hate women, I hate men.'

 Hiring officer: 'Good. Now, let me see your worse scowl.'

 Empolyee to be: 'I hate you'

 Hiring officer: 'Your Hired'

 As I was saying. We finally made it to the little window, when, after giving proof of our marriage, our living together, our living in Sweden together, me living in Sweden, (Like I could speak Swedish without living in the Country, who would learn Swedish just for the heck of it?) our buying things together, our apartment together, our car together, our electricity bill, and the miracle that we actually know each other. We were than informed that Christofer, whose name is Carl Albin Christofer Karltorp, though in Sweden middle names most often appear in several different places. (So never assume that just because a name appears first that it is a first name.)  Should have signed all his forms with Carl Albin Christofer instead of Christofer Carl Albin. So, it began again. New papers, new forms, new everything and then after all the loads of papers were received, the wait continued. While you wait you are given a detailed list of the things you will have to throw money at if they even consider your petition.

Doctors appointment, private doctor(so much for social healthcare): x amount of dollars.

Criminal record (even if you don't have one): y amount of dollars.

Military record: z amount of dollars 

Tax forms: a amount of dollars

baa: b amount of dollars

boo: c amount of dollars

eek: d amount of dolalrs.

x+y*a+b+c*d= 'you didn't know you where supposed to be a millionaire in order to marry someone from a different country?! Hmm, too bad, should have figured that one out earlier.' 

Finally the speakers announced that they were ready for our first, of many, interviews. 

Clerk: 'Eliza Anne Karltorp'

Me: 'Thats me'

Clerk: 'Your petitioning for a Carl'

Me: 'Who?'

Clerk: 'Carl Albin Christofer Karltorp'

Me: 'Oh, right, my husband.'

Let the fun begin...