Je m’appelle Elizabet(h).

Je m’appelle Elizabet was the first phrase I learned in French class when I was a freshman in high school. I was nervous and excited; much how I’m feeling right now. I was in a new school and being introduced to a new tongue. In just a couple of weeks I will be in a new country trying to master that tongue.

People ask me why I choose French. In truth, I’m really not sure. It was available. Everyone else was taking Spanish and so that just didn’t seem exciting. So French it was then. One thing led to another and by the time I came to Eastern Illinois University my transcript called me a double major in English and Foreign Language (with a concentration in French). Eastern just works that way. One can only “concentrate” on something. It makes for a very long title on the diploma. Somewhat bothersome.

Well, it is finally Friday evening and I think I am officially recovered from this whole student-visa-application-with-France thing…as it has been going so far. What I mean is I am officially recovered from my Chicago trip. France is now currently evaluating whether I am actually an honest-to-God American university student who is attending school in France and has the financial means to support herself and not some lying, no-good, illegal alien bum.


After collecting proof of identification, financial means, and good intentions, I now can’t help but wonder, what does America make international students do to study here? As a true conservative Republican, Dad is completely confident it couldn’t be much at all because of the apparent copious amounts of “’illegals’ running about.” I have absolutely no idea so I’ll set that thought aside until I’ve spoken with an international student myself.


As for the Consulate meeting, it was actually very pleasant. I was bundled up for for the weather like another ice age was coming (notice the "moscow hat" I was wearing at the Amtrak station), but even that was pleasant as well. Well, it was pleasant compared to central Illinois that day! My experiences with the French show that their paperwork is a headache but working with them in person is rather charming (and mercifully efficient). Mom noted that their office was somewhat “dingy” but had never seen such stylish interior design in any American government office. And it was true. Probably my favorite part was the mod chairs with colorful prints of ginko tree leaves and cherry blossom branches. The whole set up in general was so, so, well très chic!

In all the whole “interview” took maybe ten minutes. It would have been less if I couldn’t stop failing to press hard enough on the finger scanner.

For all who may go through the visa process to live/study in France, know that all of the tension is in the preparation and save your mental and physical strength for pressing the stupid finger scanner.

So now I am ready to take all of that pent up stress from this stage and throw it out.

So what am I going to pack?