We received a phone call today that we thought we'd get about three months ago. The French Office of Immigration and Integration, whose logo of assimilating silhouettes I find infinitely fascinating, finally called about the follow-up to our visa. The agonies and intricacies of French bureaucracy are, of course, legend, and others have written about it more eloquently here, here, here, and even here (also, there's a Facebook group called "I Hate French Bureaucracy!!!!!" I just found out in doing this quick search), so I won't express my own views on the baroque mysticism that fuels it. I will, instead, register both my sullen resignation that now we must jump through these hoops (despite the fact that the OFII waited until we are practically gone), and also my creeping sadness that, oh yes, I remember now, we're not French, and we don't really live here forever, and this is our "France Life," not our Forever Life. Sigh. It was a sad reminder. I'll try to get excited about the titre de séjour (which Mac and I can have, but not the children - for them, we have to go to a préfecture in Lorient - whereas Mac and I have to go to Rennes - ack! and so it begins).Wherein two art historians and their three kids live in a small town in Brittany for a semester.
Wednesday, April 28, 2010
Reminders
We received a phone call today that we thought we'd get about three months ago. The French Office of Immigration and Integration, whose logo of assimilating silhouettes I find infinitely fascinating, finally called about the follow-up to our visa. The agonies and intricacies of French bureaucracy are, of course, legend, and others have written about it more eloquently here, here, here, and even here (also, there's a Facebook group called "I Hate French Bureaucracy!!!!!" I just found out in doing this quick search), so I won't express my own views on the baroque mysticism that fuels it. I will, instead, register both my sullen resignation that now we must jump through these hoops (despite the fact that the OFII waited until we are practically gone), and also my creeping sadness that, oh yes, I remember now, we're not French, and we don't really live here forever, and this is our "France Life," not our Forever Life. Sigh. It was a sad reminder. I'll try to get excited about the titre de séjour (which Mac and I can have, but not the children - for them, we have to go to a préfecture in Lorient - whereas Mac and I have to go to Rennes - ack! and so it begins).
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