So I've had a minor blip in ma belle vie francais, and it's called the Office of Immigration. Actually, it's called OFII - Office Francais de L'Immigration et de L'Integration.
As if 2 trips (each lasting several hours) the the French embassy in New York before I left wasn't enough pain, the process of validating one's visa continues even after you cross the border of your destination. Who knew?
Well, to be fair, I knew what needed to be done once I arrived here in theory, but, if I have learned anything from being at the bottom of the bureaucratic food chain here, it is that the way things are supposed to be carried out in theory has nothing to do with how they are actualized.
Once I arrived in France and had my passport stamped at the border I was to send a copy of my visa, the stamped page, my teaching contract, and the immigration form the NY consulate had signed for me by registered mail to to the OFII office. I did all of this promptly once I arrived. Next, I was to receive a letter confirming that they received everything. Check. So far so good (often an ominous sign). Next I was supposed to receive a letter with an appointment to see a French doctor so they can do a routine check up and ensure I'm physically fit to mange and bois my croissant and café with the best of them. This medical visit is the key component to validating my long stay visa, thus allowing me to leave and re-enter the country freely. If you miss this medical appointment, we were told multiple times at orientation, it could be months before you are given another one and thus (further) prolong the validation of your visa.
Several weeks had passed since I received that first letter, and I began to wonder when this appointment might arrive. My friend Amy told me last week that she missed a phone call from OFII who left her a message saying her doctors appointment was a few hours later that same day. Kind of strange, but I didn't think too much about it. I then heard a similar story from another assistant who received a call on her mobile from OFII. I started to wonder...I didn't know OFII made personal calls? I thought of them more as an impersonal, all caps no greeting or sign off letter kind of operation. Maybe they were trying a new angle.
Then on Tuesday the Spanish assistant at my school recounted to me how she too almost missed her appointment. She said she spoke to the OFII office who told her that the whole batch of letters with the medical appointments on them had gotten lost in the mail during the strike, and that the office realized this when no one was showing up to their appointments so they started calling. The people who missed their appointments because of this were reassigned appointments for late December.
I tried not to freak out too much about this new piece of information as I sought out my contact person at the school during lunch. Even though she has nothing to do with my visa, she has been in charge of the English assistants for the past few years and, as a French person, might know what happens when something as sure as the post is sabotaged by strikes. She gave me a characteristic chuckle and told me that yes, it was prudent that I was looking into this now because a few years ago they had an English assistant who went home for Christmas without validating her visa and she was not allowed to come back into the country. Well, now they had my attention. I told her I was going to call them toute suite. She said that was a good idea.
I went immediately to the teachers lounge where there is a phone so I could call the OFII office. According to their website they take a lunch break from 12:00-1:30. So I waited, playing over various scenes in my head of being stranded at JFK on December 26th with my 2 cousins who had already bought their plane tickets to visit me for the New Year. At 1:35 I called back, but was told by an unctuous automated woman's voice (accompanied by overly cheery music), that they in fact do not re-open until 2:00pm and would I kindly call within those hours, then I was promptly disconnected. Maybe the person who was supposed to change the hours of operation on the website was still on lunch break. I called back at 2:00 and received the same automated message. I guess lunch breaks are approximated. As I had to go though a secretary to dial out of the school, I felt bad asking her to call a 3rd time for me, so I decided to suppress my anxiety and try calling once I got home.
Once in the comfort of my own home, armed with a mug of tea, I felt ready and calm enough to take on the OFII. I dialed the number. I waited. I was welcomed with a new recording, which once again sounded like the introduction to a cheerful musical rendition of the Office of Immigration. I was systematically assured that my call was very important to them and that it would be answered in due time. I waited. And waited. And waited. And...then was disconnected. I called again. I was disconnected again. I was annoyed, but was not going to give up so easily. I've gone though my share of waiting in lines in France, virtual or otherwise, let the others more feeble contenders give up, my call was going get through. On my third try I finally got a hold of a human, who sounded nothing like the happy woman from the recording, and she didn't even welcome me to the Office of Immigration. In all my brain numbing waiting I had forgotten what I wanted to say. I scraped my brain for the vocabulary and came up with visa and medical visit. She hurriedly said something while I was mid-awkwardly-strung-sentence, and before I could even get a "Pardon?" in there I was on hold again. More waiting and I finally spoke to someone. I started to tell her my story and she cut in that I should now be waiting for my medical visit in a fashion that suggested I should have learned this around the time I learned fish swim in water. I explained that yes I knew that's what I was supposed to be doing, but that I had heard there was a problem with the post and some letters were lost. I couldn't be brushed off so easily. There was a brief silence, and I felt a fleeting moment of triumph, "oh you know about that," she seemed to be thinking, and then she said the magic words: Date of birth. Last name. First name. I had broken the defense against any and all inquiries and was in. They had asked for my information, as in, they were going to check on it for me.
The woman told me that my doctors appointment was in fact for December 1st at 9:00 and hung up before I could pose anymore questions. I still do not know where my appointment is, or whether the letter informing me of the details is coming in the mail, but at least I know I did not miss my appointment.
It's the little victories.
A bientôt!
Linz
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