Immigrant Song

OK, this post is a moot point as of now but still worth the telling of the story. It’s long but highly amusing.

So, in order to get over here all four of us had to apply for long-stay Visas (yes, even the one-year old) even though none of us would be working in this country or, frankly, staying here for all that long. So we go through the annoying process while we were still in Boston where we had to produce more documents than a tax audit, together with a large check but, finally, after several trips to the Consulate we obtained our "Long Stay Visas."

In addition, we knew might have to apply for a Carte de Séjour once we arrived in France (which apparently is a residency permit and the equivalent of a "long stay Visa." Residency Permit… wait a minute, we don't want residency so why would we need this? Wow this seems like a hose job). I say we "might" have to apply because the information you can find on-line is about as clear as the assembly instructions that come with a cheap Chinese tricycle. So, we consulted many people once we got here and the jury was still out as to whether we even needed to do it. Some people thought that such a thing didn't exist anymore since the opening of borders under the EU, others said "lay low and you'll be OK," and others, "if you leave the country every three months and get your passport stamped..." etc., etc. My lawyer husband would have no part of that so we dutifully submitted our painfully detailed applications at the local Mairie, and waited... and waited... and waited... With no news, no proof that we'd even applied within the prescribed two months of entering the country, and with me needing to travel in November, we went back to the Mairie and demanded (politely) some evidence that we'd handed in our paperwork. The woman sent us off to the supermarket (yes) to get pictures from the little photo booth, which she then stapled to a letter saying we'd handed over our dossiers in a timely manner.

Finally, we received an "official" receipt of our application in the mail. Then, soon after, we received two additional letters, one saying something about stamps and the other telling us that we had to appear in Montpellier for an examination by a French government doctor. Goody.

So this is where the fiasco starts. Our appointed time was while Lance's Mom, Sandy, was here on her visit so we turned it into a day trip. We found ourselves crammed into the Immigration Office with all ages, races, sizes... and let's just say it was very well heated but not that well ventilated. They told us to sit and wait. Lance and I finally got called for our physicals and they let us come in together. The nurse took our basic information and took us on our word that our vaccinations were up to date (they are but… seriously?). She then explained that we would have to have an X-ray to check for Tuberculosis. Yikes. More waiting. At this point, Lance went back to check on the kids who we’d left with Sandy, playing happily in a slightly larger waiting room next to the small waiting room, which was equally filled with people. Lance strode right through the closed door and sat down next to Sandy before realizing that he was interrupting a presentation by an immigration official to a room full of French citizenship hopefuls. Sandy had been caught unaware and unable to escape before the presentation started. I’m pretty sure she can now vote in France.

With Lance rescued, we were called into the exam room and… without getting into too many details, PRIVACY is a foreign concept to them and apparently not something we were entitled to at this moment. At one point some random woman walked into the room while I was disrobed and began rifling through the desk drawers and no one else seemed to think that was the least bit unusual. "oh don't worry, she's a doctor." Um... okay.
Even though Sandy was with us and was watching the kids for part of it, both Ellie and Cole ended up loosing it at various points, such that the four of us ended up in the doctor's office together as the kids crawled around on the dirty floor. Meanwhile, Sandy listened to the immigration speech… again.

Apparently since we had not pre-purchased our five 55 Euro stamps (totaling about $330 US dollars for each of us) that were supposed to have been affixed to that other letter we received, we would not be able to get our Carte de Séjour that moment. But as soon as we bought our over-priced stamps and took our paperwork to the Préfecture in Nîmes, we would be all set. If we desired to do it immediately, we could have gone to the "Tabac" shop around the corner and purchased the stamps there… at the newsstand… 700 dollars worth of immigration stamps… (I am skeptical as to whether that truly would have happened as there surely was more waiting and more paperwork to be exchanged).
On the car ride home Lance and I debated as to whether we were ever really going to do finish the process, with me of course saying "No way I'm paying for this – it's ridiculous" and the ever-so-righteous lawyer insisting we play it by the book. So days and weeks went by with me saying nothing (hard to believe, I know). Of course, life intervened and now look at us – on our way home in 3 weeks and $660.00 richer because we never got around to buying the stamps and are no longer required to do so!