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!
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