Happy Anniversary

My birthday "cale"

Today is my 65th birthday, a milestone occurrence in the U.S. but not such a big deal here.   I don't feel any older; quite frankly, so much has been happening here that joining the ranks of Medicare seems a bit anticlimactic.

For me, today is another anniversary--for it was one year ago today that I boarded an IcelandAir flight to begin a new adventure in the land of the Gauls.  I had a little idea of what might be in store for me, but nothing--neither all the Internet reading, nor hearing the personal anecdotes could really have prepared me for the ride that 2015-2016 has been.  There have been moments of pure joy and other times have been knuckle-gnawing anxious.  Above all, I have learned:  a new language; new customs; new ways of cooking; a new way of living. 

Joyeux anniversaire, indeed

I had my appointment yesterday for my long-stay visa renewal.  My stomach was in knots--did I have all my i's dotted and my t's crossed?  Had I forgotten anything?  Did I have the French wording correct on my attestation?  Should I have had it notarized?   What I found most intriguing was the physical response I was having to this stress.  I felt miserable--sick to my stomach and jangled.  To think--I used to live with that stress level all the time and never noticed.  I thought this was how "normal" felt.  

But I have been living relatively stress-free, maybe for the first time in my entire life.  (Even as a child, I worried about the things adults should have been handling.)  So this dose of stress toxins laid me low for the afternoon, once I was finished with the appointment.  I was completely wrung out.

The flow of the appointment was interesting to me--there were signs posted clearly stating in about 12 languages that if one's French was not equal to the task of negotiating this process, it was the applicant's responsibility to provide an interpreter.  I managed to get through the process, including a lengthy explanation of why I had provided documentation for TWO domiciles, not one, without misunderstandings on either my part or the part of the interviewer.  For that, I am eternally grateful to my first French teacher and to all the wonderful "teachers" here in Carcassonne who help me, correct my grammar and supply vocabulary when I am at a loss.  

Toward the very end of the interview, the agents and I were simply chatting--about the weather, about my new apartment, about women's work never being done--when she began speaking in English!!  It's not that they can't speak in other languages; it's that they want to make sure you can speak in their native tongue.  After all, you are on their soil.  

I never tire of this view

So, I got the 3-month extension to prove my legal residency here, if needed, until my dossier is checked out.  She told me that I should be getting my carte de sejour--what looks like a driver's license--before the end of that three month time.  

My red fridge delivered in the morning

Now I will turn my full attention to getting completely moved into my new apartment.  The red frigo has arrived, and more than half the kitchen is moved.  Andrew was a great help in getting things carried from one place to the other.  My to-do list feels paralyzingly overwhelming, but one bite at a time. 

And thus begins year two.