So today was the day I’ve been waiting for forEVER. Well, waiting for/dreading. Today I went to my visa appointment at the French consulate in New York City. This is the final step of the REALLY REALLY REALLY LONG PROCESS that is Getting A Long Stay French Visa.
In case you haven’t been following along this whole time, kiddies, let me sum this all up for you. I’ll Sparknote it for you.

Okay, that enough of a recap? Sorry that’s kind of long. So that brings me to today. Today was a fun day! no it wasn’t. the only good parts of today were that I ate two salads and a really good mini-hot pretzel. and oatmeal for breakfast. food always makes everything better.
So this morning I got up way too early for someone on winter break to get up- 730- and headed out. Went to UPS to make copies of a few things (these things weren’t on the list of things that I needed, but it really can’t hurt) and buy a pre-addressed envelope. The envelope is for the consulate to send me my visa after it’s been processed. Or so I had thought. Dun dun dunnn. $26 for a stupid overnight envelope. GEEZ .
Got some oatmeal and took the 1 down to 70-something. Walked across Central Park and found the Visa Section of the French consulate. It was only 9am, and the security guard won’t let you in until it’s exactly the time on your sheet (mine said 10), so I killed an hour walking up and down Madison Avenue and window shopping things that I could never, ever afford.

French Consulate @ NYC. The Visa Section was actually around the corner.
At 10 I head into the consulate. I go through security, am given a number, and head up a staircase. There are four booth-y things on the left- kind of like at a doctor’s office? with numbers hung above each of them, and a sheet of glass dividing the visa-seeker from the French consulate worker. Et c’est bien necessaire. Anyway.
I head to the right, where there are about thirty people- a few of them standing- waiting to be called. I eventually get a seat and wait. and wait. and wait. for my number to be called. As I’m waiting, I hear one French woman just yelling and complaining and speaking in a condescending tone to everyone who gets called up. So this is the woman I’ve heard about. Greatttttt. Some girl’s papers were too wrinkled. Other people took too long to search through their documents. Another girl didn’t have her school ID. Etc etc etc.
At 1045- 45 minutes after I got there- my number gets called. However, it’s not to speak to the French lady. Nope, not yet. I go to the first window, where there is a seemingly nicer French man. I present my CampusFrance documents, application (which I screwed up a little bit… I filled in my university in France where I was supposed to fill in my home university. I made up an address for Pitt because I couldn’t remember the actual address. Whatever. 3500 Fifth Ave is close enough to Alumni), and pay for the visa. 50 Euros. Aka 66 dollars or 2454 pesos (ayyy that’s a lot of concho rides). After that I sat back down and waited for the French lady to beckon.About 10 minutes later, she calls my name. I go up to the window, my heartbeat noticeably faster, and try to be nice. Fail. I don’t even really remember exactly the order things happened- so I’ll do my best... I guess my mind has already decided that this is one memory worth forgetting- but I do remember that I was terrified. She asks me for my receipt from Window 1. There were two receipts, and first I gave her the one she didn’t want. Yell. I give her the other one. Better. I also give her a copy of my passport and my OFII form.
She then asks me to put my fingers on this fingerprinter machine thing. I’m pretty positive that the last time I was fingerprinted I was four, and I was in Jersey (not sure why that’s relevant), and I used ink. I didn’t really understand how to use it and tried to put all fingers on at once, which is apparently what you’re really not supposed to do… got yelled at… eventually figured it out.
Then she needed to take my photo. I took off my coat and scarf and stood against a white backdrop. However, I was standing too far to the right. She told me to move over a bit… apparently I didn’t move over enough… got yelled at.

A fingerprinting machine. not at all like the one that I'm talking about. this one looks easy.
She then asked me for a bank statement. WHAT THE HECK. I’ve heard NOTHING but freak-outs from other kids who say that they went to their appointment with a bank statement and were turned away because they didn’t have a letter from their bank. So, obviously, I got a letter from my bank before I came. Thankfully, my mom also included a bank statement in with my papers.
She then asked for my flight confirmation, which I thankfully had EVEN THOUGH ON THE NY FRENCH CONSULATE WEBSITE IT CLEARLY SAYS DO NOT BUY YOUR PLANE TICKETS BEFORE RECEIVING YOUR VISA. But I’ve learned not to pay attention to a single thing that stupid webpage says.
Lastly, she asks for a letter from my home university. Which had not been mentioned ANYWHERE. “Uh. What letter. I have a letter from my study abroad program?” “NO, from your university in the STATES.” “Hmmm… university in France?” “NO, MA’AM, HOME UNIVERSITY.” “Uhhh well I have a copy of my school ID?” Apparently that was good enough. Thank GOD. So she then stamps the payment receipt, puts it in my passport, and slides it under the glass at me. “Come back in a week.” “Er… I bought an envelope, I heard that the consulate can send…” “NO, MA’AM, WE DO NOT DO THAT.” “Oh… okay… so I come back in a week…” (Thinking: Christmas Eve is in a week.) “YES, MA’AM. BETWEEN 9-10AM.”
And then I run away, forgetting my scarf. I don’t go back for it. It was only $7.
So I’m perplexed. I still have my passport. And I also have a $26 envelope, addressed to my house, that I’m really not planning on doing anything with. But I want that $26 back. And more importantly, I really, really do not want to have to come back here on Christmas Eve. And also, one more time, why the hell do I still have my passport?!?! That’s where they’re supposed to put this stupid visa.
I start to walk across the park, think for a minute, then turn around and walk back to the consulate. I ask the security guard when I’m supposed to come back, can I have anyone else come back for me, and why do I still have my passport? He says “Between 9-10am Friday”, “Yes, as long as they have this receipt”, and “They know what they’re doing.”
Uh, okay. So I keep on thinking for a few hours that I’m going to need to come back down here on Friday morning… screw that… but then I talk to someone else from my group who tells me that I can come back Friday at the earliest. As in, I can come back between 9-10am on any day, as long as it’s next Friday or later. So THAT makes me feel better. And it makes a lot more sense.
I also get the feeling that if I were to come back on Friday, there’s a decent chance that I’d get told “Oh, it’s not ready yet, come back Monday”, or something equally as terrible.
So that’s my story. I’m currently on a Megabus headed north (we’re only 70 minutes behind schedule- spent a considerable amount of time waiting out in the cold for this thing), and I’m realllllly hoping that I’ll be able to spend the next few nights at home. Por favor. I enjoy travelling and all, but I also enjoy my house and my own bed and my kitchen and not living out of a suitcase.
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