State side

Living in the United States can sometimes feel like an unending string of paperwork and signatures, especially if you are at a crossroads in your life. Taxes, insurance, mortgage, whatever else adults do. (I’ve only been an adult for about forty-five minutes, don’t ask me.)

France, however beautiful and historic it may be, is so much worse.

French bureaucracy is slow moving. We in the U.S. make a lot of hay over wait times at the DMV, but that’s instant rice compared to how the French do things. I was accepted into this work program back in April, but I didn’t receive my work contract until July. That meant I didn’t know where in France (or in the French speaking world) I was going. I didn’t know my school, my city, or my country for months. Then, once I got my work contract, I was given explicit instructions to not contact my school until the end of August, because nobody would be in the office to respond.

That really threw me for a loop. Here in the States, schools are open every day of the year. Summer can be the busiest time for school systems, what with all the hirings, firings, training, summer school, and inservice. In France, the entire country goes on holiday for two months during summer. This is called les grandes vacances — the great vacation. The idea of reading work emails or coming into the office at any point during this period is a best laughable and at worst an infringement on their rights as workers and citizens. And we all know how the French react if their rights as citizens are threatened.

While my French bosses and minders were working on their tans and skiing in the Alps, I was expected to jump through a series of flame-engulfed hoops to prove I am a very good and special citizen indeed. I needed to obtain a lot of documents: a driver’s license with a special little star, a long stay work visa, four official copies of my birth certificate, COVID vaccine card (two shots and two boosters minimum), tax returns, my original Social Security card, you name it. The visa was the most challenging part by far.

To get a visa for France, you have to go to Atlanta, which is the location of the French consulate. That’s a twelve hour round trip from where I live. Oh, wait, you need to set up the appointment online first. Go ahead and upload three proofs of citizenship, three recent paystubs, and proof of insurance. And the $99 bill for using the service. Next available appointment slot is two months from now. Let’s get you signed up for that one. If you show up to the appointment missing even one piece of documentation (you had to upload them to the website, but you need to bring copies anyway), you must set up a new appointment in another two months. Yes, we have a printer. No, you cannot use it. That’ll be another $99.

I ended up making the drive down to Atlanta twice, because they lost my information the first time and refused to see me for my scheduled appointment. So fun! I met a few other people in the waiting room doing the same work program as me, so at least we were able to commiserate with each other. If you ever have to face this trial by fire, be sure to check out the aquarium in ATL. They have whale sharks, it’s great.

I did end up getting my long stay visa, my COVID card, my birth certs, my fingerprints, and all other assorted proof I exist. But that’s just getting into the country. In my next post, I’ll talk the process of finding and renting an apartment an ocean away.