The Misadventures of the Visa Application

Today I went down to Boston to apply for my visa. Whereas passports can be applied for at accepting institutions (such as the US Postal Service), visas have to be applied for in person. Yesterday I spent a good deal of time scanning documents and printing out copies in preparation. From the beginning of the visa process I had thought I was ahead of things, so when things began to go pear-shaped on the car ride down I began to become quite worried.

The problems started when I realized I did not have a passport-sized photo. I took my own passport photo because it was easier, less expensive and I had more control over the final one. Because of this it was very easy for me to print out multiple copies of my photo. But did I remember to put one of the half dozen photos in my folder for the consulate? Of course not.

I also forgot my "Attestation" from Campus France, which thankfully enough was printable by web. We were too far down I-95 to turn around so we had to deal with my forgetfulness.

Upon getting to the French Consulate I also realized that my appointment was not for today...but for tomorrow. Well done, Eva, well done.

Despite set-backs that I thought would have had mom and I back on the highway, the stars were aligned in our favor. The woman at the Consulate allowed me to apply, telling me I could go to a CVS to have my photo taken and also go to a library to print out the Attestation. Another relief was that both a CVS and a library were in close walking distance and mercifully it was not bitter cold. 

On a slightly amusing (ish) note, when I was signing my name on various papers I noticed that the knuckle on my pinky finger was bleeding. A bit of blood got on the papers and the woman asked about it. I did not mention how I was literally giving my blood to step unto French soil, but in a round-about sort of way, it's the truth.

The last step is to go back down again to pick my passport and visa up. Both my Mom and my Dad were shocked to learn I had to leave my passport at the consulate, thereby technically leaving it on foreign soil. Various Bourne related scenarios have been discussed and I've heard in a bad accent I can't quite figure out "Are your papers in order?"

Winter (finally!) in New Hampshire

I wanted to put up a few photos from these past few days before moving onto the French related things. Originally they were all one post but the bottom was flooded with pictures whereas the top was bare so I figured I might as well make them separate.

New Hampshire has had a pretty pitiful amount of snow this year and by that I mean we haven't had any at all. We had a bit of a dusting but a dusting is hardly "snow" and it certainly isn't enough to make the bitter temperatures and raging wind worth it. So when there was news of a big storm headed our way, my mom asked me to take a before and after picture. When she asked me the sky was overcast and so I told her I'd take it later because "I didn't like the light" to which she scoffed "Oh you're such an artist." Hardly, but the light was flat and I've been trying to keep light in mind when taking photos recently.

The before picture is from a walk my mom, Nana and I took on Christmas Eve with Carrie and Curly Joe.  The walk also featured the Misadventures of Curly Joe, the dog who got lost but was then found, leashed with my belt but who then scratched my belt on barbed wire, but that's another story and it can be guessed pretty accurately.

The after photo comes from a snow-shoe Mom and I took yesterday with Curly (who did not get lost but was leashed, and this time with a proper belt). It was an absolutely glorious day, and another reminder of why I love New England, particularly in the winter when everything feels rather timeless.

Feeling Breathless

It's very strange but only in the past few weeks have I realized that I'm actually going abroad. I knew in a much broader sense that I would be studying in a foreign country but in the past few weeks I have

• Bought my plane ticket
• Scheduled a meeting at the French Consulate in Boston
• Begun translating my Birth Certificate (which, really, France, really?)
• Gone to a meeting where we talked about the logistics of getting from Charles de Gaulle Airport to the Dijon train station
• Purchased my International Student Identity Card

These were all steps I knew I would have to take, but the gravity of them has really made me realize that I will physically be in France at the end of January. I know this might sound silly; how would I not, after all, know I was going? It's not so much that I didn't know but the far off vision of going to France is now less than a month away and the reality of it leaves me breathless. Not only will I be going to France, I will be living there, speaking French, interacting with a people that aren't so different from me but who are simultaneously very different.

We were talking in a meeting about Dijon about how differently the French hold themselves. There are 38 million people living in a space that is roughly the size of Texas and quarters are much tighter. It's not cramped per say, but where I tend to talk with my hands, the French (apparently) seem much more self contained. I found this fact quite interesting. I know that I'll be experiencing quite the culture shock but the realities of these little details ground the idea of me going abroad. It's absolutely terrifying but still exhilarating. 

I have also begun to receive recommendations for what I should do when I am in France. They are welcome of course but at a certain point as the list grows (and grows and grows), I feel less inclined to visit these places because I'm told to. I want to visit amazing places and I value the opinions of people who have gone there before, but at the same time I want to experience France on my own terms. I want to go some place because I feel this inexplicable pull to go there. I don't want a list that will be ticked off as the months go by. I truly want to experience French culture and I hope that a less structured stay in Dijon will allow me to experience the country, its language, its history and its people best.

Title wise: I would love to watch À bout de souffle for a second time but in the country of its origin.