How Not to Do Your French Visa Part 4
The continuing saga of the French visa has become more humorous than frustrating. When I originally left Paris to go back to Tunisia, I warned everyone we would be there for three months. I could feel it. Everyone told me: “no, nah, no way.” Well, month three has been ushered in and of course we are still here.
After preparing all the necessary documents, I went back to the money-making agency. This time, we asked for the Premium Lounge and I was immediately escorted inside. I waited behind three people, and once passing security, I went to the Premium Lounge line. No one was waiting, so I was quickly ushered into the room.
Inside, there were a group of comfortable armchairs, people sitting behind a few cubicles, someone at the cash register, and someone taking care of something inside little curtained rooms. We had free juice and coffee, of which I did not partake, and a coveted bathroom. For the first time since we had started this process, I felt more human than cow-like.
After a few short minutes, my name popped up on the television screen. The woman who took care of me went through all of my documents, handed me the final product and I went to the cash register, where I paid a hefty sum. He sent me along to take my fingerprints (in the little, curtained room), and I left within just a few minutes. The entire process took probably 40 minutes. This is a testament to money, I suppose.
When I got home, I verified my account online. To my surprise, I saw something red indicating that I did not have all of my documents, or they weren’t in accordance with the French consul’s requirements.
Moez assured me there was nothing to be concerned with – particularly since all of the documents I submitted were exactly what they had required. I went back over what they said was missing, and threw my hands up in disgust. Everything they required was there. What the girl had missed I do not know.
What I did know is this is France, and the idea that there was nothing about which to be concerned was laughable at best. Drama was coming, and I knew it.
After preparing all the necessary documents, I went back to the money-making agency. This time, we asked for the Premium Lounge and I was immediately escorted inside. I waited behind three people, and once passing security, I went to the Premium Lounge line. No one was waiting, so I was quickly ushered into the room.
Inside, there were a group of comfortable armchairs, people sitting behind a few cubicles, someone at the cash register, and someone taking care of something inside little curtained rooms. We had free juice and coffee, of which I did not partake, and a coveted bathroom. For the first time since we had started this process, I felt more human than cow-like.
After a few short minutes, my name popped up on the television screen. The woman who took care of me went through all of my documents, handed me the final product and I went to the cash register, where I paid a hefty sum. He sent me along to take my fingerprints (in the little, curtained room), and I left within just a few minutes. The entire process took probably 40 minutes. This is a testament to money, I suppose.
When I got home, I verified my account online. To my surprise, I saw something red indicating that I did not have all of my documents, or they weren’t in accordance with the French consul’s requirements.
Moez assured me there was nothing to be concerned with – particularly since all of the documents I submitted were exactly what they had required. I went back over what they said was missing, and threw my hands up in disgust. Everything they required was there. What the girl had missed I do not know.
What I did know is this is France, and the idea that there was nothing about which to be concerned was laughable at best. Drama was coming, and I knew it.
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