A day in hellThe KAT is where you register vehicules and apply for new plates or a driver's licence. It's the Bulgarian DVLA. All cars imported from abroad need to be checked and registered by the KAT.
Bulgarians drive mainly second, third-hand cars that are on average 5-10 years old. All cars are imported. In Bulgaria you'll find the cars that people don't want to drive in the rest of Europe.
To avoid stolen cars making their way to Bulgaria the KAT checks the serial numbers and road-worthiness of all imported cars. The public administration wants to do it itself to avoid corruption and criminality. There is only one centre for the whole of Plovidiv, the country's second largest city. But the Kafkaesque process is so obscure, slow and painful that anybody would be ready to pay any amount of money to avoid a day in hell. Anti-corruption measures breed corruption!
Mechanics who were meant to check the car walked around with their hands in their pockets, smoking cigarettes, and chatting on the phone. Their word decides the future of your wheels so you have to be nice to them.
We had to queue in front offices where men played cards and joked in the warmth as the biting wind outside was burning our faces.
At the coffee shop outside the main building star-spangled police officers were merrily greeting business men with dark eyes and expensive coats, providing a personal service by delivering the documents that required signatures to avoid the queue. Clerks left their posts to provide a similar service to friends and acquaintances.
Mariya pulled out our secret weapon, Raphael, to jump the endless queues. When she dared to ask the clerk how long it would take to get the new number plates the lady behind the counter screamed at her threatening to keep the papers till tomorrow. We would have had to leave the car and come back for another day in hell. It summed up the whole experience. She was doing us a favour by doing the job she's paid for...
By the time it approached closing time people were arguing and ready to fight each other out of sheer frustration. Mariya was in tears.
Bulgarians drive mainly second, third-hand cars that are on average 5-10 years old. All cars are imported. In Bulgaria you'll find the cars that people don't want to drive in the rest of Europe.
To avoid stolen cars making their way to Bulgaria the KAT checks the serial numbers and road-worthiness of all imported cars. The public administration wants to do it itself to avoid corruption and criminality. There is only one centre for the whole of Plovidiv, the country's second largest city. But the Kafkaesque process is so obscure, slow and painful that anybody would be ready to pay any amount of money to avoid a day in hell. Anti-corruption measures breed corruption!
Mechanics who were meant to check the car walked around with their hands in their pockets, smoking cigarettes, and chatting on the phone. Their word decides the future of your wheels so you have to be nice to them.
We had to queue in front offices where men played cards and joked in the warmth as the biting wind outside was burning our faces.
At the coffee shop outside the main building star-spangled police officers were merrily greeting business men with dark eyes and expensive coats, providing a personal service by delivering the documents that required signatures to avoid the queue. Clerks left their posts to provide a similar service to friends and acquaintances.
Mariya pulled out our secret weapon, Raphael, to jump the endless queues. When she dared to ask the clerk how long it would take to get the new number plates the lady behind the counter screamed at her threatening to keep the papers till tomorrow. We would have had to leave the car and come back for another day in hell. It summed up the whole experience. She was doing us a favour by doing the job she's paid for...
By the time it approached closing time people were arguing and ready to fight each other out of sheer frustration. Mariya was in tears.
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