If you recall, last Monday I was forced to strip down and be x-rayed at the immigration office only to later be accused of negligence and told to come back another day with the appropriate paperwork. Well today I went back. It was even more disasterous than the first visit.
Before this little rendezvous, I had to collect a letter from the host family saying I live with them, a copy of their identification, proof that they live here, one photo of me, and a tax stamp that is, in my opinion, exceptionally overpriced. The family held up their end and I got all of their paperwork a few days ago.
Today, for my part, I had to search out a tabacco shop where I could buy the tax stamp. Fortunately I found one on my way to the pharmacy and doled out the money.
Next was the picture. I ended up paying 9 euros for a stupid little picture. The Monoprix tricked me into buying 16 tiny ones that are completely useless. So I had to find another photo booth in the train station and try again. Sadly, I was much worse looking in the second set of pictures on account of it having rained on my freshly blowdried hair and by that point my expression was set to one of extreme annoyance.
So, I finally had all my paperwork. I set off for the OFII office planning to be out in half an hour and then I'd treat myself to hot chocolate in some nice cafe. This was 2:00. At 3:45 I asked the women at the counter if they'd forgotten me. At 4:00 it looked like the rude lady from last time (who was in a slightly better mood today) was going to help me. She went to get my file. By 4:30 I was informed that they seemed to have lost my dossier and I was asked to write down my phone number so they could call me when it was found. Just perfect. I'm so glad I waited two and a half hours in your waiting room so you could tell me you lost my file.
I went to my favorite cafe (pictured above) and got myself a chocolat chaud anyway. And a pain au chocolat. By that point I figured I deserved it. It had been horrendous. I had just listened to people jabbering with their friends in a bizillion different languages (at one point the two girls on either side of me were having a conversation with each other and I have never felt more invisible in my life) while I played solitaire on my iPod. For two and a half hours. With no positive outcome.
No wonder when I went to the doctor yesterday for my random intense stomach pains he diagnosed it as stress. Apparently this country is so stressful that it has made me ill. That's just great.
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