Part of my Prep for Paris is getting a visa. Why? Because you can't stay in France for more than 90 days without getting a visa. BYU has everything covered for the 89 days of the program, but if my mother and I are going to backpack around Europe from my 90th day in Paris up until Christmas, of course I need to get a Visa.
First the biggest hassle was going to the French Consulate in San Francisco in person. First we thought we could go to the one in LA and make a family trip out of it. But no. I am from Utah; therefore, of course, I must go to San Fran for my visa, even though it is significantly further away. My mom ended up just booking me a flight there and back Monday August 21st. The plan was get in, get the visa, get home.
It was a good plan and everything was set to go the Saturday before until I discovered, to my horror... The letter from BYU explaining that I was covered financially and that I had housing and health insurance, was missing. For two days we literally turned our house inside out, searching every nook and cranny frantically for the stupidly important letter that I had stupidly lost. My flight left early Monday morning, so there was no way that I could get another copy of the letter before I left. We ended up having to cancel the appointment until we could figure out what to do.
My mom changed the flights to Thursday, the last day I could fly out that week (You need to get your Visa at least 3 weeks before you leave). I went to change my appointment too, but when I went online, the only place you can schedule an appointment at the consulate, the next available appointment was September 8th -- the day I leave for Paris. In a panic I grabbed a phone to call the Visa section of the consulate. There was no answer. The automated French voices kept taking me around in circles. I called another section of the consulate and asked if they could help me. They gave me another number that took me into another circle. Before I could get another real person again, 3:00, their closing time, had come and gone.
The next day I tried again. No luck in the Visa section from either number, so again I called another section to get a real person and asked to be transferred to the Visa section.
"No one can talk to you. Everyone's too busy," she said.
"But I'm having a problem with my appointment..."
"Go online and book your appointment there."
"I tried. The first available date is the day I leave!"
"Well... I think one came up on Thursday, check again."
"So basically if nothing opens up then I'm screwed."
After a short pause she finally gave me an email address in case something didn't work out. I kept checking the schedule, and when an appointment came up on Thursday morning at 9AM I snagged it.
Bright and early the next Thursday morning, after an adventurous shuttle ride among San Fran drivers and a night in an old hotel, I headed out for the consulate. Ok sidenote a minute: Why do Utah drivers get so much crap? Every place has their crazy drivers, but for some reason Utah has acquired the reputation of having the worst. If anybody cuts me off on the freeway, the person next to me says, "Stupid Utard drivers!" First time my Freshman roommates at BYU drove with me, one of them turned to the other and said, "And this is why we hate Utah drivers!" Come ON people!! I know I'm one of the crazy drivers, but honestly we're not that bad!! You want crazy drivers?! Go to San Francisco!! They drive 85mph on the freeway with their nose glued to the bumper in front of them while brake lights flash everywhere in front of them. The residential streets have no lines in the middle of the road, so you drive down the center of the street until someone comes barreling toward you head-on. Now I'm usually Ok with crazy drivers-- I'm Ok driving with my brother, and that's saying something! But in that shuttle I swear there were a few times that I really thought that I was going to die! So anyone complaining about Utah drivers please take a trip to San Fran.
Anyways, back to the consulate.... at 9AM sharp they opened the doors. After getting through security I stepped into a room with a bunch of chairs and a TV with a French weather-woman telling us it was going to be cloudy today. I sat in a chair and looked at a long counter with a long window with a couple of holes that you spoke to them through... it reminded me of a bank teller, or better yet like a box office except 3x bigger. K couldn't believe that they had made such a stink about getting an appointment when it was basically just like going to the bank. You didn't even go in a certain order-- sure we had appointment times but it was basically first come first serve. I was near the front of the line, so I got to go up almost right away.
I handed the lady my papers, smiling and relieved that this was finally almost over. She looked over my stuff and said in an almost whispered, very bored voice, "Do you have your preh fahbie fillhou?"
".... What?"
"Do you have your bablie racket?"
"I'm sorry..... What?"
She rolled her eyes. "Do. You. Have. Your. Semile macking paper."
"I...I... I have all the documents that you said I needed on the internet... That letter is from the group I'm travelling with that explains..."
"Alright alright hold on." She then turned to the person next to her, (who seemed very relaxed and available to help for being one of the people in the Visa section who were "too busy to talk to anybody"), and they started speaking in French.The guy read the letter then looked over at me. Luckily he spoke better English.
"Listen, this school that you're traveling with, they're not approved so there's no way we can get you a student Visa..."
"No no no I need a Tourist Visa. I'm not studying at a French University."
"Ok... and are you staying on a campus...?"
"No we're staying with host families."
"Ya I'm gonna need some sort of proof..."
"It's in the letter!"
"Oh Ok.... well you're also missing a bank statement..."
"The letter explains that I'm financially covered!!"
"Well... online it says you need a bank statement to show that you will be able to support yourself...."
"The person who gave me the letter assured me that that was proof that I have prepayed for this trip!!"
"Oh... well.... so you need to fax us a copy of your or your mom's bank statement and proof of your housing and then we can send you your visa."
"THIS LETTER SAYS THAT I AM COVERED IF YOU DINGBATS WOULD JUST READ IT!!!! IF YOU HAVE A PROBLEM CALL THE PROGRAM DIRECTOR HER NUMBER IS RIGHT THERE!!! OH WAIT!! YOU GUYS DON'T USE PHONES HERE!! BECAUSE YOU'RE TOO BUSY SITTING AROUND AND BEING STUPID!!!"
Actually I didn't yell. I just signed what I had to and promised I'd send them what I needed. I left calling my mom and sobbing. Then my mom called the program director who made a thousand calls to get in touch of the consulate trying to help me with this stupid problem. She told me she had never had a problem like this before, that the consulate always accepted the letters. I'll tell you why they didn't accept it, because I had horrible service from snotty ignorant little people!! Well I'm sure they're actually good people, I just don't like them.... Because because pf them, I spent the rest of my last day in San Francisco waiting in front of the stupid consulate waiting for this stupid problem to get resolved.
I am never getting a Visa from San Francisco ever ever ever again.
