"You are lucky, said the young woman in the Toronto Consulate as she gave us our Visas, "all you have to do is mail in this form when you get to France. The rules have changed." We did feel lucky, as we had read about the previous lengthy and bureaucratic procedures required if you wanted to live in France more than three months. How innocent we were! How could a country full of bureaucrats not continue with bureaucracy and if possible add more?
We dutifully sent in the form to the Office Français de l’Immigration et de l’Intégration (OFII) and thought no more. BUT, back came a form letter asking us for three more documents. Even then we didn't become suspicious. We were discomfited by the demand for proof of marital status. We finally sent our income tax form with a snippy mention that in Canada identity documents do not contain such information. Imagine our shock and indignation when a few weeks later two very fat envelopes fell through the door. They contained:
• an appointment for X-rays in La Rochelle
• an appointment in Poitiers at 8:30 AM
• the information that in Poitiers we would each have a medical exam
• the even more surprising information that we would each need to bring 300 € in special government stamps, only available at certain government offices, and in bold "Failure to comply with this formality will make you liable for prosecution as a person without legal papers."
We happened to mention this surprising development to a new friend, Dany who works for an immigrant and refugee advocacy organization. She was outraged and insisted on finding out more. We spent several hours with her as she read the new law and made phone calls but all to no avail. We had to go. She and her colleagues were of the opinion that the type of visitors visa we have is so rare that the bureaucrats didn't know how to process it and lumped it in with immigrants who are planning to make their lives in France.
And so we set out for Poitiers at 6 AM since it is an hour and a half by train from La Rochelle. It was a pleasant walk to our fine railway station, it's interior grandeur sadly spoiled by a long row of modern kiosks. However we were glad of the kiosk selling petit déjeuners!
"Monsieur Core-keel" called a woman in a white coat, for the first step of the medical exam. She was very pleasant, measured and weighed David, gave him a sight test, a blood test for diabetes, asked about any serious illnesses in his life--since birth she said--and then back to the waiting room. Same thing for me although as David pointed out I cheated by not revealing my contact lenses when I took the sight test! This was not a deliberate cheat. I just forgot and she didn't ask. More waiting and chatting . . . The others came and went, taking their French placement test and having their documents examined. Then I went off to the doctor. She asked a few questions about familial health, took my blood pressure, listened to my chest and that was it. Both these women were very friendly and quite warm, unlike the receptionist and the film leader. The visit to the bureaucrat's office was the last stage--by now it was 11:15. She seemed far more severe than the others and examined all the papers VERY carefully, checking passport and visa numbers out loud. She was a bit worried about the residence proof I had brought--the lease for the apartment, wanting something else, a bill for instance. Since all our bills are paid by the landlord or on line, I explained that that would be impossible. Finally . . . she began to warm a little and confessed that she has always wanted to visit Canada and (unlike most people we have met) go across the whole country. I then warmed to her too and the end of the interview was much better. She carefully glued all the 300 € of special stamps into the file, stuck a large yellow label (what a strange colour to choose with all the memories of yellow stars) into my passport and carefully covered it with plastic laminate. "Voila" she said "your visa is now validated. It is worth nothing without this page." A still surprising piece of information which made me wonder what all the work in Toronto had been about! While I didn't believe that anything could go wrong in this process, I was nevertheless relieved and felt my shoulders unclench. How must it feel when you have fled a homeland and know you will be in danger if you are sent back? And when those visas are validated, does the bureaucrat seem a bit more congratulatory and welcoming? I returned to the waiting room just as "Monsieur Core--keel" was called out by the severe Vietnamese woman. He returned with a strange expression on his face. They had lost his yellow label. It was nowhere to be found. Paris had been called!! and even they couldn't account for this bureaucratic mess!!! David said she was very embarrassed but had reassured him. He wasn't to worry, it was no problem. Dany was not at all happy about this. Since I had been told that the visa was "worth nothing" without the yellow label I was worried too. This was two days before the three month expiry. The bureaucratic Vietnamese woman was not at all happy in being confronted by Dany and engaged in a variety of stalling and condescending tactics. We finally left with nothing but her name and her assurance that all would be well. She said to Dany:"Eh bien, they are what, Americans, Australians? There will be no problem with them." Publicly!! In the waiting area!! We celebrated with a real French Bistro lunch--steak, frites, salad and a lovely glass of Burgundy. Now we wait to see how long this tangle will take to be resolved.
We dutifully sent in the form to the Office Français de l’Immigration et de l’Intégration (OFII) and thought no more. BUT, back came a form letter asking us for three more documents. Even then we didn't become suspicious. We were discomfited by the demand for proof of marital status. We finally sent our income tax form with a snippy mention that in Canada identity documents do not contain such information. Imagine our shock and indignation when a few weeks later two very fat envelopes fell through the door. They contained:
• an appointment for X-rays in La Rochelle
• an appointment in Poitiers at 8:30 AM
• the information that in Poitiers we would each have a medical exam
• the even more surprising information that we would each need to bring 300 € in special government stamps, only available at certain government offices, and in bold "Failure to comply with this formality will make you liable for prosecution as a person without legal papers."
We happened to mention this surprising development to a new friend, Dany who works for an immigrant and refugee advocacy organization. She was outraged and insisted on finding out more. We spent several hours with her as she read the new law and made phone calls but all to no avail. We had to go. She and her colleagues were of the opinion that the type of visitors visa we have is so rare that the bureaucrats didn't know how to process it and lumped it in with immigrants who are planning to make their lives in France.
And so we set out for Poitiers at 6 AM since it is an hour and a half by train from La Rochelle. It was a pleasant walk to our fine railway station, it's interior grandeur sadly spoiled by a long row of modern kiosks. However we were glad of the kiosk selling petit déjeuners!
"Monsieur Core-keel" called a woman in a white coat, for the first step of the medical exam. She was very pleasant, measured and weighed David, gave him a sight test, a blood test for diabetes, asked about any serious illnesses in his life--since birth she said--and then back to the waiting room. Same thing for me although as David pointed out I cheated by not revealing my contact lenses when I took the sight test! This was not a deliberate cheat. I just forgot and she didn't ask. More waiting and chatting . . . The others came and went, taking their French placement test and having their documents examined. Then I went off to the doctor. She asked a few questions about familial health, took my blood pressure, listened to my chest and that was it. Both these women were very friendly and quite warm, unlike the receptionist and the film leader. The visit to the bureaucrat's office was the last stage--by now it was 11:15. She seemed far more severe than the others and examined all the papers VERY carefully, checking passport and visa numbers out loud. She was a bit worried about the residence proof I had brought--the lease for the apartment, wanting something else, a bill for instance. Since all our bills are paid by the landlord or on line, I explained that that would be impossible. Finally . . . she began to warm a little and confessed that she has always wanted to visit Canada and (unlike most people we have met) go across the whole country. I then warmed to her too and the end of the interview was much better. She carefully glued all the 300 € of special stamps into the file, stuck a large yellow label (what a strange colour to choose with all the memories of yellow stars) into my passport and carefully covered it with plastic laminate. "Voila" she said "your visa is now validated. It is worth nothing without this page." A still surprising piece of information which made me wonder what all the work in Toronto had been about! While I didn't believe that anything could go wrong in this process, I was nevertheless relieved and felt my shoulders unclench. How must it feel when you have fled a homeland and know you will be in danger if you are sent back? And when those visas are validated, does the bureaucrat seem a bit more congratulatory and welcoming? I returned to the waiting room just as "Monsieur Core--keel" was called out by the severe Vietnamese woman. He returned with a strange expression on his face. They had lost his yellow label. It was nowhere to be found. Paris had been called!! and even they couldn't account for this bureaucratic mess!!! David said she was very embarrassed but had reassured him. He wasn't to worry, it was no problem. Dany was not at all happy about this. Since I had been told that the visa was "worth nothing" without the yellow label I was worried too. This was two days before the three month expiry. The bureaucratic Vietnamese woman was not at all happy in being confronted by Dany and engaged in a variety of stalling and condescending tactics. We finally left with nothing but her name and her assurance that all would be well. She said to Dany:"Eh bien, they are what, Americans, Australians? There will be no problem with them." Publicly!! In the waiting area!! We celebrated with a real French Bistro lunch--steak, frites, salad and a lovely glass of Burgundy. Now we wait to see how long this tangle will take to be resolved.
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| The happy "legal" |
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| The "illegal" with Dany |
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