I leave on Wednesday. Tomorrow morning is Monday.
It is at this point that any sane person would already be packed, have fifty maps in hand with metros and museums circled in red, and annoy every individual willing to listen with excited chatter. I said any sane person and, at the present moment, I cannot count myself as particularly sane.
With literally dozens of people wishing me well, giving me lots of advice and support, and asking tons of questions about my upcoming year abroad, I know that I should be excited. I should be elated. I should be ready to drink it all in.
But I am not. Not yet at least.
(It was like this the first time. I cried most of the time that I wasn't asleep during the 9 hour flight to Paris my junior year. It took me two weeks to settle in. Two very long weeks. And then I almost couldn't bring myself to leave Aix-en-Provence in the end.)
It doesn't make any sense. I know the language. I have money in the bank for tuition, housing, transportation, and meals. Everyone has promised to Skype me. All indicators point toward a fabulous year abroad.
Give me time dear readers, I will get there. I will find my way to joy toward going. I can feel the little nudges at the back of my heart telling me that if I truly did not want to go then I would not have struggled since January, rejected in various ways at different times but always pushing onward. Give me time, it's what I need most right now to get used to the very sudden change between being sure I would not be able to go and being sure that I will be going.
If you are reading this and you Believe, send up a prayer for me to embrace this opportunity, not in timidity and fear but with a trusting and courageous spirit.
* Proverbs 16:9 - In his heart a man plans his course, but the LORD determines his steps.*
*Romans 12:2-3 Do not be conformed to this world, but be transformed by the renewal of your mind, that by testing you may discern what is the will of God, what is good and acceptable and perfect.*
- Tam (soon to be) in Toulouse
Sunday, August 29, 2010
Saturday, August 21, 2010
Visas 102
After waiting two weeks and a few days I finally have my visa!!! Of course the picture on my shiny, green, overpriced post it - I call it a post it because it is literally a post it sized sticky piece of paper stuck into your passport - is ... less than stellar due to the stress i was under at the visa office (see Visas 101), but I have my official documentation now and will be on my way to France soon. It's been a long long road to this point with lots of rejections, delays, money spent, and misunderstandings. I actually went berserk for a moment when I pulled the visa out of the envelope, because now everything is real. All my talk about wine, cheese, pashminas, the beautiful french language (which I seem to be forgetting - wonderful huh? I'm forgetting the language that I am going to semi-grad school for), and the Eiffel tower ... all those comments and memories and desires will begin being realized in a matter of weeks. So, faithful, and not so faithful, readers wish me luck finding cheap airfares and somehow packing all my clothes, books, and belongings for a YEAR into two suitcases. Vive la France!!
Wednesday, August 4, 2010
Visas 101
Monday was my Visa visit - it has taken me two days, one mexican feast, and 16 hours of blissful sleep, but I have recovered enough to blog about it.
Now, if you've had to get a visa or you know someone who has, then you can understand the high stress level connected to this undertaking. In preparation for the dreaded visit- I know no one who doesn't dread the visa visit-I read various blogs, articles, & FAQs...these sources only heightened my fear. Most of them mentioned being turned away or yelled at in French.
After two hours of sleep - I kept waking up because I thought I'd overslept (although I had a hotel wake up call, had left a light on and the tv on, AND had my alarm clock set) - I decided that 7 am was the latest I could stand to lay in bed. Armed with my best french outfit (aka cute flats, a high wasted skirt with solid tank, and understated jewelry), my stack of documents, my rented red Honda FIT, and repeating various common French phrases that I might need at the appointment, I drove off toward Atlanta. The worry turned my usually slow driving pace (slow because my hometown has 4,000 inhabitants and we do not drive like maniacs) into a frenzied city race. I zoomed my way in and out of morning Atlanta traffic, arriving at my visit more than thirty minutes early. Sitting in the office, checking and rechecking my documents, fussing with my hair and makeup every ten minutes, I watched as one couple was turned away. I made quick friends with the 10 am appointment girl from Venezuela, the 10:50 am appointment guy from Knoxville Tennessee.
When the visa lady called my name my hands started shaking slightly, my throat suddenly dried up like a desert, my clothes (that seemed lovely and fresh five minutes ago) felt wrinkled and dingy, and I forgot how to speak french! Surely I was going to be turned away, I could practically hear the words forming within the visa lady's head. Everyone was watching me... or were they? They were!
At the bulletproof (only has one tiny little drawer which is also protected by bulletproof glass) window I handed over all twenty plus documents - they tell you that extra copies are essential and that the visa lady is allowed to ask for any other document she wants. I began pulling out my college diploma, my birth certificate, my high school diploma, extra bank statements out of my purse just in case she asked for them.
After 5 minutes of reviewing my documents - 5 long minutes which I filled with questions in my head such as "Why must I go to France?" "Did I put the correct address on that form?" "Why does that Visa picture look so awful?" "Is she supposed to frown and huff that way when she reviews each page?" - and then taking my fingerprints electronically, she handed back some pages, insisted that I check my name and address as being correct and said "Ok, thank you. Goodbye."
..............WHAT?! Was this it? Did I just survive the dreaded visa visit?
"C'est tout?" I asked. She SMILED (yes actually smiled) "Oui, C'est Tout!". I was sure that I'd heard wrong or perhaps I would faint or they'd start laughing hysterically at any moment and yell "just kidding". But nothing happened. I exited the building, grabbed a sushi lunch, and left Atlanta sans problemes.
Now I wait for my visa to arrive in the mail or my visa rejection letter...........
Now, if you've had to get a visa or you know someone who has, then you can understand the high stress level connected to this undertaking. In preparation for the dreaded visit- I know no one who doesn't dread the visa visit-I read various blogs, articles, & FAQs...these sources only heightened my fear. Most of them mentioned being turned away or yelled at in French.
After two hours of sleep - I kept waking up because I thought I'd overslept (although I had a hotel wake up call, had left a light on and the tv on, AND had my alarm clock set) - I decided that 7 am was the latest I could stand to lay in bed. Armed with my best french outfit (aka cute flats, a high wasted skirt with solid tank, and understated jewelry), my stack of documents, my rented red Honda FIT, and repeating various common French phrases that I might need at the appointment, I drove off toward Atlanta. The worry turned my usually slow driving pace (slow because my hometown has 4,000 inhabitants and we do not drive like maniacs) into a frenzied city race. I zoomed my way in and out of morning Atlanta traffic, arriving at my visit more than thirty minutes early. Sitting in the office, checking and rechecking my documents, fussing with my hair and makeup every ten minutes, I watched as one couple was turned away. I made quick friends with the 10 am appointment girl from Venezuela, the 10:50 am appointment guy from Knoxville Tennessee.
When the visa lady called my name my hands started shaking slightly, my throat suddenly dried up like a desert, my clothes (that seemed lovely and fresh five minutes ago) felt wrinkled and dingy, and I forgot how to speak french! Surely I was going to be turned away, I could practically hear the words forming within the visa lady's head. Everyone was watching me... or were they? They were!
At the bulletproof (only has one tiny little drawer which is also protected by bulletproof glass) window I handed over all twenty plus documents - they tell you that extra copies are essential and that the visa lady is allowed to ask for any other document she wants. I began pulling out my college diploma, my birth certificate, my high school diploma, extra bank statements out of my purse just in case she asked for them.
After 5 minutes of reviewing my documents - 5 long minutes which I filled with questions in my head such as "Why must I go to France?" "Did I put the correct address on that form?" "Why does that Visa picture look so awful?" "Is she supposed to frown and huff that way when she reviews each page?" - and then taking my fingerprints electronically, she handed back some pages, insisted that I check my name and address as being correct and said "Ok, thank you. Goodbye."
..............WHAT?! Was this it? Did I just survive the dreaded visa visit?
"C'est tout?" I asked. She SMILED (yes actually smiled) "Oui, C'est Tout!". I was sure that I'd heard wrong or perhaps I would faint or they'd start laughing hysterically at any moment and yell "just kidding". But nothing happened. I exited the building, grabbed a sushi lunch, and left Atlanta sans problemes.
Now I wait for my visa to arrive in the mail or my visa rejection letter...........
Introduction
So I've succumbed to this blog obsessed world --> kill me now.
However, I've decided that I shall bear my blog death with honor - it is perhaps the best way to keep in touch with family and friends while I will be in Toulouse this year and the easiest way to relate my adventures in France.
If you are determined to die this blog death with me then you cannot blame me for misspellings, random french words, long periods of absence, overly-detailed posts, and so forth.
I can promise that you will discover France with me every step of the way. I'll relate everything with honesty - the good, the bad, the boring, and the odd.
Let's begin!!!
-Tam (soon to be (hopefully)) - in Toulouse
However, I've decided that I shall bear my blog death with honor - it is perhaps the best way to keep in touch with family and friends while I will be in Toulouse this year and the easiest way to relate my adventures in France.
If you are determined to die this blog death with me then you cannot blame me for misspellings, random french words, long periods of absence, overly-detailed posts, and so forth.
I can promise that you will discover France with me every step of the way. I'll relate everything with honesty - the good, the bad, the boring, and the odd.
Let's begin!!!
-Tam (soon to be (hopefully)) - in Toulouse
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