The Fights You Will Have in France
And other things to look forward to.
Like every married couple, Roberto and I have moments of—how shall I say?—friction. We are most likely to be at our worst while flying, getting through airports and train stations, or dealing with a dense thicket of bureaucracy. France is the thicket-iest of all the thicket places, although I hear India could give it a run for its money.
When one is in a foreign land speaking a foreign language, trying to figure out the particulars of paperwork can bring your stress level to 11. At best you are accumulating the bits of French you understand and hypothesizing about the various steps, and at worst, you’re just making shit up.
Sometimes I just make up the answer I want to be right: “We don’t have to do anything. They will contact us.” (This is never right).
Roberto and I seem to constantly be having conversation like this:
Me: I think we have to go to the Prefecture for that.
Roberto: No. I think we are supposed to mail it in.
Me: Then where is the mailing address?
Roberto: I don’t know. Maybe we have to get it from the Prefecture?
Me: So I was right. We have to go to the Prefecture for that.
NO ONE wants to go to the Prefecture. It is a DMV, a consulate, and a root canal combined. Doesn’t that sound like a blast?
Before I concede to going to the Prefecture (or bank, or Post Office, or anywhere, really) I do a lot of online research. The problem is that frequently the people who are posting are idiots aren’t experts*, the information is out of date, or three different sites say three different things. In too many cases the answer is (dum, dum, dum) go to the Prefecture (evil laugh).
We currently have three “pickles” (let’s not call them crises) to deal with, but we’ve been procrastinating a trip to the Prefecture for months. We have a bad habit of letting bureaucratic things wait until it’s almost time to leave the country. Despite it being mutual denial, we get irritated at each other for not following up sooner.
A few weeks ago I started waking up at 3am worrying about these “pickles,” so I finally put it on our joint calendar: 10am, Monday, Go the goddamn Prefecture.
Here are the three issues we need to deal with:
Issue One. We have questions about our resident visas which (due to a dopey mistake on our part) are only good for six months. Last year we had visas good for one year. We don’t plan on coming back to France until the fall but here is our concern: to get a long term visa in France you need to apply three years in a row for a single year visa. After that you can apply for the five year and after that ten. Has our 6 month visa ruined this process? Will we have to start again at year one?
Issue Two. We have both applied to obtain a French drivers license. If you apply within the first year of arrival, you can just swap out your license from the States (not true for every state, but true for Texas. Yeehah!) If you do not do it within the first year you have to apply from scratch for a French license, which has a rigorous written test which I have heard is the equivalent of the bar exam. I got a notice from the Agence National des Titles Sécurisés (National Agency for Secure Titles) telling me my application was incomplete. It seems I am missing a “residence permit.” My sleuth-like Googling says this is a separate paper version of the visa glued inside your passport. One gets one at the Prefecture, but for the life of me I can’t find a way to book an appointment for this.
Issue Three: We have never received a property tax bill. I know. That’s the DREAM. However, we should have gotten one in the mail in October. One tax guy told us (I’m paraphrasing), “Don’t sweat it. The government is probably backlogged, and they don’t know that you live there yet. They can’t fine you if they didn’t send a bill!” My favorite answer! DO NOTHING.
However, a second tax guy said, “You need to ask about that at the tax office.”
Merde.
The night before our visit to the Prefecture we lay in bed and discussed how to make the trip as stressful as possible.
Roberto: Let’s not start gathering the paperwork until it’s time to leave.
Me: Let’s not eat any breakfast or drink any coffee before we leave the house.
Roberto: Let’s not look up any vital French phrases before we go.
Me: I think I’ll wear uncomfortable shoes.
Roberto: I’ll wear a thick wool sweater so I am unbearably hot.
Me: I’ll drink four cups of water so I have to pee the moment we arrive.
Aren’t we hilarious?
Despite our joking we, of course, got very stressed that morning. Because we had NO CLUE what papers to bring besides our passports. It’s very annoying to stand in line to ask what paperwork do I need? so you can fill it out and stand in the line again the next day. But it was our only recourse at this point. We grabbed some papers from the closing on our apartment, our proof of address, and our passports and hoped for the best.
We took our walking sticks and hiked the arduous five minute walk to the Prefecture (it is literally 0.3 mile away). We were doing well, being very pleasant to each other the entire five minutes. We discussed how we would approach our three issues in order of importance and let the person who greeted us (The concierge? The manager? The bienvenuer?) guide us to the correct desk.
We approached the gate, and I confidently opened my bag to show the security guard I had nothing threatening in my bag. Before he could even scan Roberto the second guard said, Avez-vous un rendezvous? (Do you have an appointment?)
I was ready for this. I had my French prepared. Nous n’avons pas de rendez-vous. Il n’y a nulle part sur votre site fou pour faire un appointment pour les choses dont nous avons besoin, cependant, nous savons que nous devons être ici. Croyez-moi, nous ne voulons pas. (We do not have an appointment. There is nowhere on your crazy website to make an appointment for the things we need, however, we know we need to be here. Believe me, we don't want to be.)
The guard appeared to, oddly, not understand one word I said. He said, Il faut que tu aies rendez-vous. Bye! (You have to have an appointment. F*ck off!)
Friends, we did not get beyond the front gate.
We experienced equal parts irritation and relief. We celebrated/commiserated over great cups of coffee. When we arrived home I endeavored to figure out the tax situation. Between the research and the phone calls to find the correct office and make an appointment, I spent around three hours on this delightful task. We have an appointment this Friday to go file our apartment purchase and ask for a bill. Fun!
I am still trying to figure out the appointment we need at the Prefecture for our visa question. All of the options are for applying for a new visa, which is not what we need (If you happen to be a visa expert feel free to mention this in the comments).
We seem to have both given up on the driver’s licenses out of sheer exhaustion. But perhaps we will rally.
Now it is time to go eat some wonderful food and walk around our beautiful city so we remember why we put up with all this crap.
Jusqu’à la prochaine fois (until next time),
Carolyn & Roberto
Hey guys, I can give you correct information about your visas and DL exchanges.
I loved this! I think we are maybe six months to a year ahead of you in the French Administrative Hazing Process. After a while, you just incorporate the paperwork moving turntable into your life. My tactic is to provide every imaginable document for every interaction. Accordion file it. My divorce papers from 26 years ago? Here ya go. Electric bills, every page from my passport, birth certificates of my children? Got ‘em. I always write a kindly, perhaps a bit obsequious, letter translated into French describing my situation and what I am seeking. I have a pretty good success rate. I love your photo! It’s all worth it. Look at those smiles. Savor your French life ♥️