Warning!! The Following Post will Contain Critical Commentary

  "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!

Dear Dany was waiting for us at the Poitiers station and we drove quite a long way to the OFII. "So," I muttered, "not only are you expected to arrive at the crack of dawn but you have to figure out how to take a bus or pay for a taxi to get here!" We were greeted by an unsmiling receptionist who told us to wait. We were finally ushered into the Salle de Reception where an orientation to the regular immigration procedure was taking place . It was a mixed group--2 Muslim women wearing headscarves, 2 mixed race couples, 3 Anglo-Saxons. They were watching a film outlining the rights and responsibilities for a titre de séjour, the document that allows you to stay in France. Four training programs must be attended by all new immigrants: French language training (up to 400 hours), day long--lunch included, and here that would not mean cold sandwiches and a Coke!!-- programs on French culture, politics and daily living and a half day on job search skills. Afterwards, a young Vietnamese woman elaborated on the information in the film. At the end of each training day, participants are issued with a coloured certificate that they must guard carefully as they will be asked to produce the original when they go next year to renew their titre de séjour. I found her language difficult and her attitude condescending and wondered how the others, looking as though they were from France's former colonies felt. Had they actually understood what she said! We already knew that for some reason these programs weren't for us, even though we were involved in the same process and had paid the same amount of money. Too bad, as the language training would have been helpful and the programs about France interesting.
"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.

The happy "legal"

The "illegal" with Dany

                                                                                                                 

Joining In

This has been a week of activity! Suddenly lots of opportunities to join in Rochelais life presented themselves and we took them all on.

Thé  Dansant--we saw little ads in the local What's On and wondered. My mother spoke about thé dansants  at the Chateau Laurier in the 1920s and they are sometimes mentioned in novels of that era. What could they be in France in the 21st century? Last Sunday afternoon we set out for the Tasdon community hall with our friends,  Géry and Marie. As we entered, this is what we saw.  

                                    

"Oh no, not line dancing," I thought. It was indeed line dancing but of an ancient Bayonne variety, a folk dance really. The hall was large, with a stage on which a two man band was working at full blast. We arrived about a half hour after the designated start time and they had to scramble to find us a place. Clearly, the rest of the participants were enthusiastic dancers and had arrived on the stroke of 4 PM or 16:00 as I am learning to say. And what dancers most of them were! The band played folk dances, Strauss waltzes, tangos. It was really a joy to watch most couples artfully dancing these complicated steps. Mostly seniors with a sprinkling of middle-aged folk, the women especially were dressed to the nines, some of them in cocktail dresses. People watching was great fun. My favourite couple had to be in their eighties but they were on the floor constantly, moving together flawlessly, gently smiling, as I imagined they have through many, many years of marriage. There  were many women dancing together and we were intrigued by a very elegantly dressed couple who looked like sisters. They spun around with enormous skill, obviously enjoying themselves. We left with a new resolution to find a dancing school and learn how to waltz properly!

We have been impressed by the creativity and innovations in La Rochelle. We were intrigued when we read about the first public meeting to discuss the new plan 2010-2020 and decided to go. Imagine our amazement when we arrived only slightly late to find the 780 seat auditorium completely full with people standing at the back. We crept in and found places sitting on the stairs. After the introductions of the chairs of committees and the mayor, they showed a very slick film, outlining the goals of the plan: biodiversity, the economy and social issues. After a further explanation of each one, the floor was open to questions and some heated debate took place. Concerns similar to those in any western community were raised--housing, transit, access to services. Some of the questions were fun. One young woman wanted to know if the mayor could arrange for the over-abundance of storks and swans in an outlying community to be transported into  La Rochelle. Another man was one of those frequent types who come to grind an axe about a development he has been trying to initiate on protected wetlands. It was clear that he had gone head to head with the mayor in the past. Our mayor's body language was something to behold! He reminded me of Pierre Trudeau. His replies were articulate and well organized and then there was his quintessentially French shrug.We were impressed by the thoughtfulness of the plan and the clear interest of the large number of people who attended.

And then there were the Christmas concerts. All over France, there are small bands called les Orchestres d'Harmonie. Their origins go back beyond Napoléon and now they are supported by local governments. They are made up of amateur musicians of all ages. It is a charming mix of very young children, adolescents and adults who are obviously long retired. We attended two of these concerts. Both of them took place in old--and cold--buildings! The audiences were just like home: adoring parents, grandparents and partners. Lots of  cameras flashing and loud applause for every number. Our friend Géry was performing for the first time in his new role as sax player so we were part of his adoring and impressed audience.

By the end of the week, we felt that we were really beginning to see into some parts of French life in small cities. These events, like much of our life here, raised questions for us about Canada. We wondered: why is dancing so much more a part of French life than Canadian, who supports events for seniors, what sort of plan is there for the future of Toronto to 2020 and how many people would attend a meeting about it, are there local bands in Canada and who supports them financially? And I wondered, why can French men dance so well while their buddies in Canada can't (aside from David, of course!)?