On February 29, 2016, I submitted my application for the renewal and status change of my existing visa. It would take 2-3 months, they said… One year, two months, five days, and three hours later, with my precious new resident permit finally in hand, it’s hard to describe my emotions: relief, certainly; a wary disbelief that this descent into administrative Hell is finally over; but above all, gratefulness for our friends and family and especially for Nico who has held my hand and gone to bat for me countless times throughout this seemingly never-ending circus.
What do you do when you aren’t allowed to work for over a year? In my case, I started this blog, became president of a regional comics association, joined a gym, developed contacts for the business I hoped to start upon receiving my visa, and learned all kinds of useful things from my future mother-in-law, including how to make preserves and how to pluck and gut chickens.
Lest you think that being American means that immigration is a walk in the park, here are the highlights of what Nico and I will lovingly refer to from now on as “that clusterfuck year of administrative incompetence":
February 2016: “You should just go back to your country,” says a horrible, balding, squat employee at the prefecture in Paris when I enquire about a renewal and status change for a job in Paris that I am being offered. Needless to say, I am not able to take that job.
June 2016: Renewal of temporary document that allows you to travel while your dossier is being processed, but does not allow you to work. After a four-hour wait, I am told, “Yes, your dossier is complete, but these things just take time, madame.” My new temporary document is stamped and I am sent on my way.
September 2016: 2nd renewal of the temporary document. After seven hours of waiting, Nico and I are told, “Your file was misplaced and there are missing documents. You’ll need to re-submit your application.” As you can imagine, Nico explodes into a tirade and I burst into tears. We are told to get it together or they will call security.
October 2016: We submit the new dossier at the prefecture in Poitiers where we have moved in the meantime.
January 2017: Renewal of my growing collection of temporary documents. Still not permitted to work.
April 2017: 2nd renewal of the Poitiers application. Totally jaded, I march up to the desk with the necessary documents and nearly fall over when the woman says, “Oh, it looks like you’ll be getting a letter soon for your residence permit.”
May 2017: Utterly unbeknownst to the mail lady, she delivers a letter that we’ve been awaiting for over a year: “You are hereby summoned to the prefecture on May 5, 2017 at 2pm to receive your residence permit…”
It’s a strange feeling: you mean I can live and work like a normal person now? I hardly know what to do with myself. Have a drink for starters, I suppose. Hell, invite the whole street over for a drink! And then cross my fingers and toes that Marine Le Pen is not elected on Sunday, because in addition to all of the other reasons, her moratorium on legal and illegal immigration would also affect me. So please, France, don’t screw this one up.
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