I've somehow never had to use the French word for efficient since living in Paris. But, yesterday I found myself searching through my pocket dictionary to figure out how to describe the unprecedented situation at, of all places, the préfecture. That's right, folks! I wanted to describe my visit to the préfecture as efficace! Of course, I arrived prepared - hot panini in hand, interesting book to read and my current knitting work-in-progress were all sorted in my bag in preparation for the long and nail-biting experience that never materialized. I finished my sandwich, knitted a couple of rows, and not even 20 minutes into my wait-time some brilliant woman decided to prepare the carte de sejours in advance for people who were there to pick theirs up - people like me! Only minutes later, I was walking away with a smile planted on my face and my freshly-minted card in hand. We won't talk about the fact that I'll have to start the renewal process in merely three months, or that I look like I'm holding back a toothy grin in my photo, because I just really want to savor this happy, hassle-free (and likely, once in a lifetime) moment as long as possible.

Things are also coming along swimmingly with the Christmas shopping. I never knew I could get so much done with my day until I tried to get so much done. Besides Gui's sister, we're done with his family, and apart from a few little things I plan on taking back for peeps, all the things that require treks across town or special ordering been taken care of. I plan on getting most of the stuff I'm missing from a last-minute trek to the mall and Target in Dallas or Kansas, which I'm sure is going to be a mad rush! I'm keeping a pretty thorough and strict list, though, so let's hope I don't get too sidetracked by all the glitz and glamour of holiday shopping at American stores while I'm there!

I'm also happy to report that my first knitting project is more than halfway done. It would be two-thirds done if I decided to stick with the three skeins of yarn I'd initially planned for it, but I've decided to add one more skein (if it's available) since it's not going to be as long as I'd thought it'd be. So far, I'm really pleased with how it's turned out, but being my first project and all, it's not without its flaws.

I still need to learn how to weave in my ends and cast off, but that'll happen soon enough, I think. Right now, I'm kind of obsessed with the knitting (etc.) website, Ravely and can't keep myself from dreaming about what projects I want to tackle next. I'm still so impressed by the beautiful work people are able to create with their hands and some imagination. I'd love to move on to a pair of simple socks or baby leggings next, but I'm not sure if I should be less ambitious for my second project. I'm thinking I'll be able to draw some inspiration and advice from the talented group that's meeting tonight at Aimee's, so we shall see soon enough.

I know it's my pessimistic way of reasoning, but I'm really hoping that things aren't going so well and so quickly because something's bound to go wrong next week. It would be nice if all of these little triumphs would lead to a culmination of smooth travels for us on Tuesday, but as that's kind of out of my hands, I won't worry too much about it now.

Today, I attended my first "civic training day" as part of the requirements to fulfill my integration contract with France. It's a day-long class that outlines the basic values and principles of life in France that must be observed in order to live here, and it explains the various French institutions that govern and guide the country. I had little hope that I'd be able to stay awake, much less attentive during the 8-hour training, but I went prepared with my documents and armed with caffeine to give it my best. Since I live outside of Paris-proper, I was requested to attend the class in Nanterre, which is just outside La Defense and kind of a pain-in-the-neck to get to from our place (especially early in the morning). Nonetheless, I woke up on time and headed out the door with fifteen minutes spared for inevitably getting lost in the black hole that is La Defense. But, despite my good intentions to make it to training day in a timely fashion, I was late. In keeping with my recent bus luck, the bus to the tramway did not arrive when the "real-time" indicator indicated, but instead, 10 minutes later. And, when I finally arrived at La Defense, it was already 5 minutes 'til, and the second bus was (you guessed it) late by five minutes. Luckily, I wasn't the only one running behind, and when I arrived at 9:20, the class hadn't even started.

I was a little skeptical about the guy leading the training course. He was oddly dressed in a purple corduroy button-up, faded black jeans with a homemade hem, a Brighton-style leather belt, white sport socks and shiny, black shoes. He unenthusiastically gave us a breakdown of the day's schedule, cursing and then tossing out the dry-erase markers that stopped working after each new word (it seriously irks me when people throw perfectly good writing utensils away because they don't understand how they work!). And after a minute or two of unsuccessful attempts to turn his his Power Point presentation into a slide show, he announced that it was time to start the class. He asked us to give a short description of ourselves - our name, our ville, our home country and our profession. I was the only American, but there was a large group of (loud) Slovakians accompanied by a translator, quite a few Moroccans and a couple of North Africans.

After our intros, class began, and my initial skepticism flew out the window. Even though I couldn't understand every single word our civic trainer was spouting, I was seriously captivated by all the information he was so passionately filling my brain with. He knew his stuff. And, it was so easy to listen to him rattle off dates and names on a subject that we all had some previous (albeit limited) knowledge of. It probably helped that he started by giving us a full history lesson of the world, starting with prehistoric times. I never really liked History class (I know, gasp!!), but for once I was really curious. He talked of Vikings and Barbarians, of Neanderthals and Cro-Magnons, and of the migration of humans across the world. The time flew. He talked right through our first scheduled break without anyone taking notice, until the antsy young immigrant sitting to my right asked if we could have a p'tit pause. By the time lunch arrived (nothing fancy, just some chicken, fries, salad and yogurt), we had barely covered the Moyen Age!

He covered a lot of important French milestones in history, but for the most part I felt like he was giving more of a European history lesson than a French civic lesson. When he finally got to the fifth (current) Republic, it was 3:30 and we were due for our second break. As thorough and interesting as his presentation was, I think it would've served the training more to be a little less long-winded. I appreciated the random trivia and interesting anecdotes he threw out, but towards the end of the day, I was getting tired of all the tangents, and both my neighbor and I were getting annoyed with all the Etats-Unis d'Amerique comparisons he was so blatantly making.

Still, training day was far better than I expected, and I felt like I came away with more knowledge about France (and Europe) than I had before. I learned that a good way to become the president of France is to be Prime Minister first; that the executive branch of government never deals with issues of justice; that Versailles had something like 6000 servants and workers for its 2000 residents. And, perhaps the most interesting thing I learned is that regular "encounters" with a mistress is good for the health of a king, and thereby French men, in general (or at least it was). Which really explains a lot about the basic principles of life in France.

So, today I signed my "Integration Contract" with the French government. It went much more smoothly than I expected, but unlike my friends who live mere meters from me in Paris proper, I didn't get my actual carte de sejour handed over to me when it was all said and done. I'll still need to wait to receive a convocation from the prefecture to pick up my card once I've completed the obligations of my contract.

It was pretty much like any immigration "welcome day" would be. My appointment was at 8AM, which required a sleepy me to get get up two hours earlier than usual, but I made the most of it and picked up some warm, freshly-baked choquettes at the boulangerie on my way there. I arrived at the ANAEM office about fifteen minutes early, and had to stand in the foyer with about 20 other early-birds before the clock struck 8:00. Everyone seemed to be moody and pushy, and when the guy finally opened the doors for us to trickle in, it turned into a stampede of sorts. Each of us presented our convocation letters and were sent to separate rooms named after musical composers - I got Verdi, and ended up in a room of mostly couples, a few very young looking guys, one blond woman and a couple who apparently thought they were the only ones in the room when they decided to start talking and laughing like they were in their living room at home. After an introduction about how the day would pan out for us, we were shown a short video about the integration process in France (during which someone had to tell the noisy couple to shut the hell up because the death-stares coming from everyone else weren't working). Everyone working at the place (save the dude who was sorting us into rooms and yelling "putain, ça suffit!" at his co-worker) was really helpful and surprisingly pleasant. No one seemed to hate their job, and things went smoother than I expected during the three-and-a-half hours I was there. They even had fresh brewed coffee, which was a first in my experiences with French administrative offices.

After the video, we were called individually to meet with someone for an personal assessment of our "Frenchness." I sat down across a desk from a girl who looked about my age; she asked me to verify my name, nationality, marital status, address, languages spoken and education level. I didn't realize it then, but she was assessing my language skills to determine if I'd need French classes. She handed me a paper that had a place to fill out my name and contact info, and five fill-in-the-blank questions with a word bank of five words that included petit déjeuner, marché and reçoivent. Below that question was a question asking me to describe what my favorite meal is using at least five words. If I could write my name and address, I received 10 points, 30 points for the fill-in-the blanks, 30 for my favorite meal, and 30 for my ability to speak French. It was such a joke. I asked her if this was the only assessment that would determine if I'd be offered language lessons, and she told me that I speak fine, and don't need any classes since I'm not a debutante (i.e. total idiot who doesn't know how to spell my name or address). But, I realize I'm lucky to be able to "afford" language classes on my own, so I let the idea of getting free French lessons die, and I asked her about getting help to find a job. I think it surprises people to hear that I've had trouble finding a job. I'm not sure that it's really easy for people to understand how I can speak English perfectly and French at an intermediate level yet still not land a paying position. It's true, that just like living in the States, I could probably find someone to hire me to do something, but until recently, my French was barely passable for an interview. Even after giving me a funny look, the nice government employee told me that I should sign up with ANPE (the unemployment agency that works as an employment agency) and see if I could find a suitable job with my level of French, and if it didn't work out, they'd redirect me to ANAEM for further assessment. I was satisfied with that, knowing that I would be more serious about my job search after finishing my French classes, so I signed on the dotted line to bind my contract with France.

Then, I was escorted down to the medical room where I was ushered through the weight and measuring station (I've lost three pounds), the eye-test station (20/20, baby - with contacts), and then asked to strip from the waist up in a fitting room until someone emerged from the back door to take my chest x-ray. I was happy that they provided a blue, gauzy smock that kept me mostly covered, and overall it was pretty painless. After redressing, I was called in to see a doctor who asked me to once again take off my top, but let me keep my bra on. He took my blood pressure, did his stethoscope routine while I got dizzy from inhaling and exhaling deeply, and then asked me to redress so we could chat about my health. He asked me if I had my vaccines - "uh, yeah, I think so." I really can't remember the last time I had a vaccine or who gave it to me, so I wouldn't even know where to ask. He gave me a short lecture on making sure I get the appropriate tetanus vaccine every ten years and suggested I get my vaccination history during Christmas. He asked if I had any health problems, take any drugs or smoke. He asked if I did sports - to which I may have answered too quickly with a "no." I wanted to take it back and tell him that I've never walked so much before in my life, but it was too late and he was already giving me a lecture about needing to get proper exercise. So, I promised him I'd get back into Bikram Yoga [after the holidays, duh]. We chatted a bit about getting a job and about speaking French, and then I was done. On the way out, I was tempted to grab a female condom out of the jar at the check-out desk because I've seriously never seen one before, but I decided to Google it when I got home instead.

What I forgot to mention about my binding agreement with France is that I'm now required to sit in on two full-day (9 to 5) classes - one on French culture and one on French administration. What sucks about this, is that they're both next week, and not only do I have a phonetics exam and tons of new stuff going on in my grammar class, but it's Thanksgiving week! I planned to get so much done during the few days before the big day in preparation for Thursday, but instead of cooking cornbread and prepping veggies, I'm going to be stuck in a class learning about how the prefecture works. That really sucks! It just bothers me that going next week doesn't even guarantee that I'll have my carte de sejour before my recépisse expires AGAIN, meaning there's another dreaded trip to the prefecture in my near future. The way I see it, the only possible way these mandatory classes will be worth it is if they can offer insider tips on how to avoid French administration...or at least now to get what you need in less time.

I was stoked to finally find my request to appear for my medical exam to get my carte de sejour in the mailbox today. I'm not so excited about the actual exam, which has become the slightly-comical destiny of every new French resident, but I'm just relieved that, after three months, I'm finally taking the next step towards solidifying my residency here. My récépissé expires on the 31st of this month, and a couple of weeks ago, after voicing a little concern about the whereabouts of my application, Gui bypassed the préfecture and secured my medical appointment over the phone directly with ANAEM (the French immigration agency). In fact, Gui left them a message about it and they did what no other French bureaucratic agency has done before - they called him back in a very timely manner! They even took down my information, researched the progress of my file and called him back to inform him of the status. And, would you believe that they let me pick the date of the rendez-vous when we explained our plans to be out of town during the month?! I'll still have to go to the dreaded préfecture and wait "patiently" for however many hours tomorrow afternoon to extend my récépissé, but I'm really relieved that I'm headed in the right direction.

It's slightly ironic, however, that this letter came when it did. Today, my emotions have been bouncing around like a slinky. I'm really sick of blogging about my frustrations and homesickness when my life is, in all fairness, rather great. But, I think Paris is provoking me. It's kind of like that to the blessed people who call it home - just as you pass the Eiffel Tower, sipping on an espresso, croissant in-hand and life can't get any better, you get to your métro station and lookie there, it's closed - because someone died there this morning. (Which actually happened to me today, sans the croissant and espresso.) It's as if the city is reminding you that as great as life can appear to be, sometimes it sucks. What an amazing feeling it is to walk to school everyday and pass the Pantheon, to stroll through the Jardin du Luxembourg in between classes and stop in for a French express before the bell rings, but when the dreary reality of la vie quotidienne resurfaces, the scales are once again tipped and life becomes just life once again. Today, I reminded myself at least three times each how much I love this city and how much I hate it. Yet, it's not really the city so much as it's my life living here.

It was never really any question when Gui and I married where we would start our lives as a married couple. My job situation, although relatively secure and stable wasn't ideal, and Gui needed to put his degree to work before it got too dusty and lost its appeal to employers. I knew I'd be in for an eventful and sometimes frustrating transition while I settled into being a real resident here, but I don't think I fully prepared myself for the personal challenges I've faced and have yet to face. For me, Paris and France in general never "stole my heart" or "talked to me" like it has for so many people who've made it here. It's certainly growing on me, and I seriously appreciate the beauty of such an historical place, but man, is it sometimes a frustrating place to be! I don't mind that I sometimes have to search high and low for things that bring me comfort, and I love that I've learned so many different techniques and ways of doing things that I once did so differently. I enjoy the diversity of the people, their varied traditions and often bizarre anecdotes. Yet, there's something that feels off-kilter about calling this place home. Almost interdit. I feel like a fraud, like someone who's living someone else's dream (except that in their dream, they didn't get to marry my husband), when I'd rather be sipping a margarita with the girls at happy hour after a grueling 10-hour day of work.

I think I'm coming to the realization that Paris might never be able to replace those people and places I love so much no matter how hard it tries; that as great as the moments I have here are, they would be even greater with those people to share them with. None of this diminishes the fact that I've had amazing times here with some of the most remarkable people who I expect to become lifelong friends. I guess I'm just materializing the recognition that my life here isn't going to be perfect because it will always lack those people and places that have made me the person I've become. Realizing that this makes me sound so much like my dad, I'm now starting to notice how perfectly I balance the traits of both of my parents. My mom is the free-spirited, care-free wanderer of life who lives for spontaneity, while my dad is the uber-traditionalist who champions dedication and planting roots as the fundamentals to living a good life. I guess it's no wonder I have such daily self-conflicts about being here. But having an on-again, off-again relationship with Paris is something I'm learning to live with and hoping to get better at. Even though I hate sometimes feeling so out of love with this place, I love my husband more than anything, and regardless of where he's at, that's where I want to be. Let's just hope he doesn't get the sudden urge to move to Russia - there's one language I could die happily before attempting to learn.

Sorry for not posting this week; I'm sure everyone's wondering what I've been up to...or not.
Actually, I haven't had anything of much interest to write about. After finishing my French classes and a week of preparing for and worrying about my carte de sejour, I've been stuck in a rut over what I should do with my free time. The obvious answer is to get with the job-hunting, but August is by far the worst month to try to contact businesses in Paris. There's even an advertisement all around Paris that's asking where all the Parisians have gone. I saw someone else put up a photo of the advert on their blog, but I can't remember who (I think it's official that I stalk entirely too many blogs). According to Gui it's a play on a football chant that gets shouted when the Paris team is sucking - kind of like "Where are y'all at now, Paris?" I think it's a really clever advertisement (although I can't remember the website it's promoting at the moment), and I still find it so amusing that people just up and leave this city for nearly an entire thirty days for a little respite from the norm. Our apartment is surrounded by lots of businesses and a few office buildings, so lately the neighborhood's been eerily quiet and parking spaces have been unusually superfluous.

So, expecting to find a job this month is really an absurd fantasy that I'm quickly finding myself getting over. Now that I have all this extra time on my hands, I'm trying to think of ways to discover Paris without feeling like a tourist. Monday was a completely wasted day spent indoors, cleaning, blog-stalking, cleaning and cleaning. But, on Tuesday, I took myself to Muji, which I'd heard is like a Japanese Ikea or something like that. I wanted to see what they had and maybe pick up some things that I still need in the kitchen - mainly cooking utensils. Well, I wasn't exactly blown away when I found my way to the little shop tucked behind the marché Saint Germain, but I scooped up a couple of low-priced items and decided to take a trip to my tried and true utensil shop down at Les Halles. There I found exactly what I needed and headed back home feeling successful after a quick frapuccino pit-stop at Stealmybucks. It's an indulgence I don't have often, so I don't feel guilty about throwing down 5 euros for a grande fruit-tea smoothie.

I came home rather early and hung around with Gui after work before I headed out for my first evening in Paris sans Gui. Emily is as lovely as a Georgia peach who, as we discovered over a couple of overpriced cocktails in the 16eme, has a lot in common with this misplaced Texan, including being married to a fabulous, grade A, slightly paranoid, americanized Frenchie. Girl talk in English is so much fun - we spent over three hours dishing about our lives, our history, our woes, our often unreasonable expectations of the fabled Paris life, and our rather happy existences. Our rendez-vous was loads of fun and a much appreciated breath of fresh air from my looming boredom. Thank God she appreciates alcohol-inspired French sign language.

And wouldn't you know that after making my trip to the marché this afternoon for some produce and such, I got an email from a girlfriend of Gui's friend inviting me to the piscine? So, this afternoon she swung by and picked me up in her car (quelle chance) and we headed in search of my neighborhood pool. Man, I never in my life knew there were so many rules for going to a freakin' swimming pool! And, man I never knew how popular pools were in Paris [banlieue] during the summer - geesh, don't people work? We got cut off in the line by a big, yellow tape barrier because apparently they were approaching their maximum occupancy of 700 people - yes SEVEN. HUNDRED. Luckily, we got in only minutes later and set off to go through the regular routine of taking off the shoes, finding and paying for a locker and showering before spotting a patch of grass for some seriously appreciated sunbathing. A ton of sun, a few dips in the pool, a few topless women, speedoed men, and another episode of showering (this time with soap and shampoo - yeah, that's weird to me) ensued before we called it a (great) day.

I'm still working on my CV and trying to keep up my French by talking with Gui and watching French TV, but I figure if everyone else can take August off, there's no reason I shouldn't also. I'm learning that boredom isn't so bad after all, so long as you've got a lot to do.

Now (besides my lower than generally acceptable French skill level), I have no excuse for being jobless anymore. After a patience-testing wait at the prefecture late this afternoon, I was handed a half-sheet of paper that's proof of my application for residency, and that I will use as evidence of my right to work in France until my actual card arrives - hopefully within the next three months (we'll see how that goes). It's funny because we actually had an appointment with the same woman who set the appointment in the first place, whose awful people skills and overwhelming rudeness we both were blown away with last time. She seemed fifty times happier this time and even made a few jokes and got us in and out within 30 minutes of our appointment time. We think it had something to do with her imminent three-plus weeks of vacation.

We asked a few questions, most of which were answered with "we don't do that here," but the most important question was the one about my eligibility to work. At first, we were told that I couldn't work with just a récépissé (which is just a receipt that shows I've applied for the residency permit), but after inquiring a bit, she told us that, in fact, I could work with it and that my eligibility would be printed on the document. Man, I wonder if I'd have the same eligibility if we hadn't been brave enough to ask?

All in all, it went pretty smoothly. We only had to wait a couple of minutes after our appointment to be seen, and would you believe it if I told you (speaking to those of you who've gone through this before) that we actually had everything they required for the application EXCEPT a copy of the stamp indicating my entry into France with my visa? Would you also believe that that was the only thing not mentioned on the list of required documents to bring? Luckily, we caught our guichetiere on a good day and she was kind enough to make copies for us without much hassle.

Now, I'm just waiting to get the information for the infamous medical exam. If I'm lucky, I might just get my actual cds a few months before I have to reapply for the next one. Ah, the French.

Geez, it's been a hot week! Yesterday, I went to a few Korean shops to buy some spices I've been searching for (with no luck), and had to help a dear old lady find her away around an arrondissement I'm not familiar with. Her face was beaded with sweat and she had to pull me into the shade while I searched my pocket map for the street she was looking for. We chatted a bit (she praised my French skills - yeehaw!) and I pointed her in the direction of her destination (I got the feeling she was reluctant to go wherever she was heading, but man, who wouldn't be reluctant to walk in 9,000-degree weather?). I realized, after talking with her, how much I enjoy practicing my French. Sure, it sucks when I don't have the right words to say, but it feels good to hear my progression and practice the phrases and words I've become familiar with.

So, I didn't stay out very long because, frankly, I was melting in the streets, and the stench of B.O. in the stuffy metro was making me gag. I came home, peeled off my sweaty clothes, threw on what's become my summer house-dress (an old, light, jersey dress) and hung out in front of the fan for the rest of the day. It was too hot to cook, so Gui and I had some tasty cold sandwiches for dinner.


Today was another scorcher and it took so much energy to motivate myself to get some pictures taken that I need for my carte de sejour appointment tomorrow. I also wanted to check into getting a haircut while I was out, but I couldn't stand the heat any longer than necessary and I headed straight back to the shade of our apartment and the coolness of our fans after snapping a sweaty, smile-less pic. It didn't get any cooler and there was no way I was turning on the oven tonight, so we spent a lovely evening in Le Marais enjoying a delicious fallafel and cold Corona in an air-conditioned resto. We wrapped up the evening with cold gelato at the Pozzetto counter where I enjoyed a refreshing watermelon sorbet cone (that I'll be going back for soon) and Gui scarfed down their famous hazelnut chocolate gianduia.






Tomorrow, Gui is taking a half-day to come with me to the prefecture for my carte de sejour appointment. With luck, I'll be receiving my récépissé that (ideally) allows me to work until I receive my actual carte de sejour. I'm not holding my breath that anything will go smoothly because, let's face it, that's my new reality and I'm fine with taking the bad with the good...for now. I'm just hoping they have working air-conditioning in their office because then if everything goes wrong, at least I'll have gotten a satisfying respite from this unrelenting heat...

Gui and I accomplished so much today. It was yet another day off for him, and poor guy didn't even get to sleep in this morning. There was too much to do! Around 9:15 we headed to the Champs-Elysees to sign the documents for our new flat!! Yes, we're proud key-holders of a very lovely apartment in Boulogne-Billancourt, just southwest of the peripherique. Let me just say that getting an apartment in Paris is NOTHING like getting one in the States. It seriously felt like I was signing a mortgage, not a lease. We had to initial every single page of a nearly 50-page packet of documents three times so we could have three originals. And on top of paying a deposit and the first month's rent, we had to fork over nearly 900 euros for a stupid placement fee...yeah, money that we'll never see again that's going to pay this woman who's giving my hand a cramp. I think it's ludicrous, but I guess that's how they roll here. After signing our lives away ('seems like we're doing that a lot lately), we swung by our new pad to check the place out; the las time we were there, the floors were covered with plastic and the place was getting a fresh coat of paint causing the entire floor to stink of turpentine. This time, it was in a lovely state - the floors are really nice and we discovered a few things that we hadn't really paid much attention to before - like the nice mirrors on the hallway wall and the small but very functional window in the bathroom. I think we'll be happy here for a while.

After a tried and failed attempt to take a short nap, we rushed over to the prefecture (administrative offices for the town) to get a clear understanding of what we needed to start the carte de sejour process. It was a pretty hysterical moment for me - facing the reality of all the stories I'd read about this process. It was almost as if a dream I'd been having for so long was turning into a very real and tangible situation...the administrator was just as I'd pictured - wearing an armpit-stained shirt and a hellish scowl across her face. To begin with, we didn't have a number because the number dispenser was dispensing tickets that said they were closed. Luckily, Gui's mom came with us (she does this for a living, so we wanted her input) and she told us to just go to the first floor and wait in line. We found the line that wasn't calling numbers and stood in it. When the window became available, the woman asked us what we needed and then asked if we had a number. Of course we didn't have one (and she knew damn well that they weren't handing them out), but when she spotted a crumpled ticket that said service fermé, she picked it up and said "oh, ok, there's your ticket, now go ahead, what do you need?" So, after she proved her point (that we need to have a ticket, even if it's not a ticket at all, but we need to at least appear to have tried to take a ticket before even thinking about coming to her window), we proceeded with requesting the information about the cds. We had no intention of doing anything but picking up a list of required documents for our next meeting, but she made it clear that she was going to examine all the things she requested (my passport, Guillaume's identity card, our marriage certificate) before doing anything else or answering anymore questions. After looking over our stuff, and not saying much, she finally said, "You've got an appointment, so you'll need to bring the following documents with you to that appointment." No mention of the date, time or location of the appointment, but just that we got one! When we inquired more about this elusive rendezvous, she simply said it was "Thursday at 3pm." Gui can't just leave work whenever he wants, so he asked if he could pick the date and time. That's when she clarified that the appointment was scheduled for 3 months from now - Thursday, August 1st. So, we left it at that, took the paperwork that shows what we need to bring back in August (and is required for me to travel to and from France until then), and went on our way. That's when she finally gave a toothy grin and asked us to have a nice day. I guess it just takes some time for French folks to warm up to you.

Well, that was our day today. We tried to take care of some banking business, but were only able to schedule an appointment for the end of the month...better than nothing. Tomorrow's another early day - we get to check out our wedding photos (yay!!) and start some furniture shopping at Ikea (double-yay!!). We still have so much to do, but the important stuff is at least on the right track towards accomplishment! Things are looking peachy.

I've been reading for months now fellow expatriates' experiences with the infamous carte de sejour that in my particular situation is required to hold if my intention is to reside in France - which is the case! I've heard everything from horror stories to fairy tales from others' experiences dealing with French prefectures. I'm still not completely sure what to expect when Gui and I make our first appearance at the local prefecture in Boulogne (where we will, presumably, be residing). Actually, the whole apartment thing is proving to be very important for the carte de sejour - we have to show proof of our residency within the bounds of the prefecture, as well as an unceasing communauté de vie (community of life...or sharing a residence), presumably in our own place with both of our names on a mortgage or lease. So, I can't actually start the process until we've signed for a place, which puts a little more pressure on our apartment-hunting process.

What I've gathered about the carte de sejour (cds) so far, is this:
#1, I will need to make an ungodly amount of copies of everything I have with my name on it, with Gui's name on it, and that proves in any way my existence as his foreign-born wife (translated if need be)

#2, I shouldn't expect to have copies or originals of everything I need on my first visit (from what I've heard, I think it would be setting some sort of French record if I could get it all done in one go)

#3, I will have to submit to a medical exam that consists of taking off my top, squishing my boobs against an x-ray machine and answering questions about my smoking habits

#4, I will be asked politely if I'd like to have to sign a contract that indicates my willingness to receive French values and integrate within its society. This contract will require my presence at two day-long classes, one on French history, one on French culture, and will also test my French speaking abilities in order to prescribe the appropriate number of language course hours they will offer me for free. As cool as free sounds to me, I'm pretty sure my lowly skills will get me stuck in a 400-hour program (that's the maximum) that will mandate a 35-hour week of learning French for 12 weeks. Now, don't get me wrong, I'd love to do just that - all my life, in fact - but I need to make some money, yo. I'm ready to get back to work. Even though I read somewhere (actually somewheres since I saw it on two people's blogs) that the French government will compensate you for your time if you have to take classes on a full-time basis. Problem is, I haven't read this on any official website and I haven't worked since November of 2007 (a disbelief even I struggle to fathom)!! Why would they compensate a (now, technically) housewife-ish foreigner like me?

And finally, #5, I should expect for this entire process to take anywhere from 4 months to a year (which is a little comical since the first cds is pretty much always issued for only a year's time...or so I hear). And get this, you have to apply for a renewal cds two months prior to the expiration of your original cds. Oh, the Frenchness of it all. Who says the French system is a bureaucratic nightmare? Hogwash.

This all brings me to another topic that I'm still struggling to sort out about my move to France. I'm still stuck about what to do when I finally get there. I'm still waiting for a reply from a school I applied to long ago, which in my mind indicates a negative response to my application for admission to their master's program in Paris. I'm going to give them a call on Monday, fo' sho' though. I seriously think I should pursue a year-long master's degree at this point, but my bank account and bills are begging me to get back to work.

Can I really make someone else pay my bills? That's yet to be seriously asked or answered, so I'll wait until that time comes (if ever). But, I'm finding the whole dependency thing is not really for me. I think my my ego is too big, my mind too enthusiastic and my eyes too coveting to not be making and spending my own money. I'm still at a selfish point in my life, where I want to satisfy my wants and pursue my goals at whatever cost it takes (this is likely why I haven't yet joined my more mature friends who are impregnating themselves by the droves). So, there lies my predicament - stay jobless another year to get a master's while my husband pays my bills OR find a jobby-job asap and get back to acting like a real adult. It'll be interesting to see how this one turns out. No doubt I'll be letting you know.