Well, it's finally happened. I'm now legally allowed to stay in France.
This was confirmed by a fun trip to the immigration office yesterday morning, and I say fun because I got to explore a whole new part of the Paris suburbs. After taking the T2 all the way to the end (I normally only stay for two or three stops), I arrived at Porte de Versaille. I didn't stay very long (three minutes), but I got to take the T3 for the very first time. This tram line reminded me more of the Trams in the Hague, the only other European I had previously visited, because they ride in a grassy median between the streets. Of course, in the Hague, the trams also travel in the street alongside cars, and I'm fortunate that they don't do that here (it's positively terrifying!).
After then taking the M13, I arrived in Montogue, and then was tasked with walking to the Immigration Office. One thing I've noticed about taking public transportation to new places is that I have absolutely no bearing where I am. By car or by bus, you're on the surface and making conscious turns, so you at least have some perspective where you've gone. But crisscrossing underground and popping up somewhere makes it really difficult for me to have any clue whatsoever.
Admittedly, I'm bad at navigating. If you hand me a map in a car while I'm driving in America I'm as good as lost. But in America, I can pull over and find my way (eventually), and can definitely find my way by foot. I've discovered that this is because (most) intersections at home happen at proper right angles, and streets are clearly labeled at each intersection. In Paris, this is not the case. Intersections happen in weird curves and street signs are either on the walls of parallel buildings or on signs in the sidewalk. But of course, putting those two things together, sometimes those signs appear to pointing to several different streets, for the signs are at right angles, but the streets are not.
I left early enough that I was able to take the 15 minutes to find this place, even though it was only three minutes away from the station. I got stuck at one stupid intersection. In America, I have my iPhone as a crutch, and even though I have one here, the location services are dreadful. Eventually I found a map, and decided to just to walk north. And hope I'd find my way.
And I did, and I was on time, although that didn't do me much good, admittedly. I waited in the (first) waiting room for a half an hour, watching the news of all the protests that were going on across the river. Finally, I was brought into the second waiting room, where the clockwork type precision of the French health-care system took over.
I first waited at Station 1 (labeled as such), where I was called up, flashed my passport, and asked a few questions. I then moved to Station 2, where my height and weight were taken by different nurses. Next, I went to Station 3, where they checked my vision. I then moved the Station 4, where I was given a chest x-ray (they let me keep it). And finally, I moved to Station 5, where I consulted with a doctor, who took my blood pressure, asked my about my shots (side note: she informed me that they have a vaccine for TB in Europe, but it's not given in the US. Why on Earth do I waste my time every few years getting that stupid bubble test if I could just be immune?), and told me I was fine.
Being finished with the medical procedures, I went upstairs, and waited in the waiting room for the immigration officer. I was introduced to the European principle of a "line," where we didn't sign in or anything, we just were supposed to know who arrived before us. I was a bit timid to go when I thought I was the "suivant" because I was doubting whether or not people arrived before or after me.
I met with the officer, and handed her a 55€ stamp that I bought at a tobacco shop, my passport, a photo, and a written testament from the woman I work for saying I live with her. Turns out the mother forgot to sign it, and the officer complained, and I was worried I would experience the "no-nonsense" French bureaucracy that I had heard so much about. But she took it, grudgingly, and informed me that I was now allowed to stay until my Visa expired. Success!
And now I'm officially allowed to stay here! This is hopefully the last of the paperwork I have to do. I'm really sick of it now.
Ian
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| Montogue Metro Station |
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| Disorienting intersection (I was supposed to go left) |
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| Graffiti (can you find the American 90's TV show?) |
