I no longer hate volcanoes

Well, all of my prior bitching was for nothing. My prayers have been answered, and the volcano eruption that stopped flights throughout Europe did not adversely affect the arrival of my livret de famille - the last piece of documentation needed to process my French long-stay visa. Yes!

I got the livret a week ago today (I think - time is sort of running all together these days), while I was sitting in my driveway overseeing my yard sale with my dad and friend Chris. I was so excited when I saw the envelope, I'm sure that Dad and Chris thought something really exciting must be in it ... when they saw the thin passport-like book with the plain writing on the front, it surely was a disappointment for them. For me? Sheerest bliss. Here was the last piece of the puzzle that I needed.

So next, I go to the French consulate's website, which, though it has all necessary information on it somewhere ... that "somewhere" is not always so easy to find. At any rate, I managed to find the area where one signs up for an appointment to submit visa paperwork ... and I made the appointment ... and, oh crap! No printer! It won't confirm the appointment unless I print the confirmation page! At that point, it was Saturday night, I was hungry and tired, and so I gave up for the day and reconciled myself to having to re-book for a much later date and time by the time I got logged on again on Sunday. Again, surprise! Went to my parents' on Sunday and re-requested the appointment - got the same day and time, and this time confirmed it and printed the confirmation page. Victory! So on this Monday, May 3, I will be meeting with some representative at the French consulate regarding my long-term stay visa application. Phew.

I am actually really nervous about it - they all seem to look at you like a bug (or maybe a talking animail - a rat, or a pig, perhaps) if you don't speak French easily and readily - but Patrick told me not to get all fussed. He says they all speak English fluently, and if I simply say to them I'd rather speak in Engligh, to be sure I fully understand everything that is needed, that will be fine. Still, I wish my French were more fluent and I could just aspirate my R's with the best of them. I hardly think that my random vocabulary (consisting mostly of words for food or ballet positions) and avoidance of anything requiring me to use the past tense is what anyone would consider as "fluency". Believe me, Consulate Staff - you'd rather speak to me in rough, unmelodious English than listen to me butcher your mother tongue. And so that's the route I will take.

Wish me luck - Monday morning comes soon, and if all goes well, my visa will be issued within 10 days. As I have already purchased my plane ticket for Thursday the 20th, I certainly hope that is the case!

Volcanos are dumb

If it weren't already taking a million years to get all of my paperwork in order so that I can move to France ... a volcano erupts. And all air travel to Europe ceases for many days. This didn't have any immediate impact on me, since I am not planning on flying to join my husband in La Canourgue until late next month, but then I thought for a moment ... oh, God. The mail.

If you have never contemplated a move to another country, this might not make so much sense to you. When your whole life hinges on how quickly mail gets back and forth between France and the U.S., suddenly that volcanic eruption all the way across the Atlantic starts to matter a lot more to you! The way that my husband and I calculate it, our application for the livret de famille (this weird book thing that you are issued by the French government when you get married - you use it to record things, that much I know. What things? Hmm, not so sure on that part ...) would have reached the consulate in Miami pre-eruption. However, it is entirely possible that the application and accompanying docs wouldn't have been sent on until the next week ... if our case worker was using the "diplomatic mail", which only leaves their office once a week. Seriously. So there's about a 50/50 chance that our streamlined plan has just been set back 2 weeks. Drat.

If it were only a matter of obtaining the livret, I'd not be so worried. But after you get this mystical little book in your hot little hands, you then have to call the French consulate and make an appointment to physically go there and submit a bunch of other stuff, another application for your visa, and the livret, so that they can process the actual long-term visa for you. Because what I want to do after three months of mailing forms and documents and collecting ridiculous pieces of information from everywhere in the world, it seems, is drive the four hours to downtown Miami and submit this crap in person. I have no idea how I will manage to get in to see anyone, as the available appointments will all be on weekdays, between the hours of 9 and 4pm - I work then. Don't you? It's maddening.

We've already been through one delay, because Patrick and I obtained a document earlier than the consulate would accept it. I am not kidding. Even though we were able to obtain this document (an apostille marriage certificate) almost immediately after we were married, we instead had to WAIT for six weeks before it could be submitted to the consulate, because the Office of Vital Statistics adds a small bit of information to the bottom of any certificate printed after six weeks from the marriage date have elapsed. It's completely crazy. Why couldn't the consulate just call up the Office of Vital Statistics when they got our form and ASK for the additional info? Don't know. Certainly would've been more convenient, but apparently the French government and the U.S. government attend the same "Mastering the Inefficiencies of Bureaucracy" seminars, because that was definitely NOT on offer. We had to wait, re-request, and re-file the certificate before the consulate would proceed.

I don't know why I'm so whiny about this today - I simply miss my husband, I think, and am just so impatient to get over there. All this waiting seems silly. I know they have to make sure I'm not a murderer and that I don't belong in debtor's prison or an insane asylum before I become a personal resident of their country ... but shoot, couldn't this just be a weensy, teensy bit easier? The separation is tough enough.

Anyway, volcanoes. I am glad people are okay over there, and we didn't have another Pompei or something, but -- this volcano is seriously impeding my forward progress. I am sure that all of the poor folks stuck in Europe for days on end would agree with me! Iceland, you are hereby forbidden to explode any more volcanoes. Seriously, you're done. The next time you get the urge, just hold your breath. Take an antacid and think of pleasant things. Anything, really ... just don't jeopardize my mail delivery!

Moving to France - I'm crazy

So, I met and married the most wonderful man, possibly in the whole universe. He is perfect for me and I thank what powers there are up above every day that he walked into my life. I love him dearly. But I have known, from Day One, that he was a French Guy. Not only that he was a French Guy, but that he planned to relocate back to his home country as soon as possible.


At first, it seemed not to matter. Then, as we got closer and closer to each other, it mattered a little more. He asked me to visit. Then, to use my visit as a "test" to decide if I, maybe, someday, could live in France. Then, we decided to get married, and suddenly I had made the choice, almost without noticing. I am going to move to, and live in, ... A Foreign Land. France, to be precise.

I have no idea how this transition has worked for anyone else, because I don't really have any friends who have suddenly met the love of their lives, and he/she happens to be French, and they move overseas, ooh la la, and live happily ever after. I looked through the travel writing section of the bookstore lately, trying to find some sort of guide to what the move from the U.S. to France would be like, and I found a few books about Americans living in France (pretty much only in Paris or Provence - neither of which I will be moving to) ... but not really what I wanted. I wanted a book that talked about the transition, about how they got everything done before leaving the U.S., about how the move felt, about how long it took them to adjust and to be accepted in their new home. Instead, pretty much everything I found just talks about the differences between the French and Americans, and one woman even talks about how her own children poke fun at her for her "American" pronunciations and how she feels that strangers still immediately identify her as a "foreigner" in her small town in Provence ... and she has been living there for more than ten years! Maybe I missed the right books? It's possible. Borders and Barnes & Noble are certainly not always definitive.

So, where to learn about this monumental move to a small, rural village in the Auvergnes region of France? Apparently, I'm looking at it. I can't believe that there aren't more people who have made a similar move, to a similar area ... but maybe there aren't! Perhaps I am the first, and this will be like a walk on the moon. Cold, alien, uneven terrain ... but I doubt it. It's probably like moving anywhere new.

And so, since my husband is already there (he returned to native soil about a week after we got married and is busy getting our house ready for my arrival), I have been talking to him every day, via telephone or Skype or email, asking him questions about things, and learning myself just by going through it. It occurred to me that someone else might benefit from what I've done so far, and what I find out as things progress, so here I am. Writing. We'll see where it takes you - me - well, it'll take me to France, I guess. And you'll hear about every little thing on the way.