We Had a Bad Day
Paris, France
What have we done in Paris?
Hmmmm. Today we went to the Indian Embassy. That was a disaster of bureaucratic proportions. That visit was followed by a rushed trip to the heavily armed US Embassy. After talking to men with guns we ended up at the US Consulate.
Waiting on the pavement, I listened to the crazy man in line before us, "I'm American I know this is an American place there are flags here I have no money so if you would just give me some food there'e boxes and boxes of food inside the building if I could have two or three everyday and I'll come on the weekend did you know that we are being invaded everywhere by foreign armies but we are strong look at the flags just a couple of boxes of food would be great see my passport..."
Chris may get his papers processed before our 11 days in Paris are finished but for me it may be impossible. Having plane tickets in and out of the country is irrelevant. Proof of funds, irrelevant. There are diplomatic games going on. The US offices have been slow doing paperwork for Indian citizens we were told that what goes around comes around. If I get a letter from the US government saying I'm an ok human being, maybe things can be expedited.
Anyway, now Chris is feeling my India pain. He might have thought I was exaggerating about how things go so ridiculously wrong for no apparent reason. But then, after almost five hours of waiting on a sidewalk, in a hallway, and in a tiny waiting room, the clerk who called him up to look at his application said, "No, impossible. You cannot get a visa in France. Go to Switzerland and file. NEXT." Chris, not pleased at all, told me he had been refused. I was at the clerk at the next window and shoved Chris's papers at him. "Oh yes, I can send off his papers to Switzerland and get his visa. No problem. But you cannot get a visa."
Maybe neither of us is going to India. Blah. We won't know for sure until we have made four more Embassy visits.
And Paris? We could see the tip of the Eiffel Tower from the Metro stop.
What have we done in Paris?
Hmmmm. Today we went to the Indian Embassy. That was a disaster of bureaucratic proportions. That visit was followed by a rushed trip to the heavily armed US Embassy. After talking to men with guns we ended up at the US Consulate.
Waiting on the pavement, I listened to the crazy man in line before us, "I'm American I know this is an American place there are flags here I have no money so if you would just give me some food there'e boxes and boxes of food inside the building if I could have two or three everyday and I'll come on the weekend did you know that we are being invaded everywhere by foreign armies but we are strong look at the flags just a couple of boxes of food would be great see my passport..."
Chris may get his papers processed before our 11 days in Paris are finished but for me it may be impossible. Having plane tickets in and out of the country is irrelevant. Proof of funds, irrelevant. There are diplomatic games going on. The US offices have been slow doing paperwork for Indian citizens we were told that what goes around comes around. If I get a letter from the US government saying I'm an ok human being, maybe things can be expedited.
Anyway, now Chris is feeling my India pain. He might have thought I was exaggerating about how things go so ridiculously wrong for no apparent reason. But then, after almost five hours of waiting on a sidewalk, in a hallway, and in a tiny waiting room, the clerk who called him up to look at his application said, "No, impossible. You cannot get a visa in France. Go to Switzerland and file. NEXT." Chris, not pleased at all, told me he had been refused. I was at the clerk at the next window and shoved Chris's papers at him. "Oh yes, I can send off his papers to Switzerland and get his visa. No problem. But you cannot get a visa."
Maybe neither of us is going to India. Blah. We won't know for sure until we have made four more Embassy visits.
And Paris? We could see the tip of the Eiffel Tower from the Metro stop.
posted by Jennifer P. at 1:24 PM
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