The Waiting Game

I have returned from my weekend in Sydney and my adventures with the French Consulate. Oh how joyful I felt having flown all the way to Sydney for an ‘interview’ at the Consulate where the guy behind the glass barely spoke to me and, having arrived 10 minutes before my appointment, was all over approximately 1.5 minutes before my interview was technically supposed to start. So a total of 8.5 hours flying in planes for a total of 8.5 minutes standing in front of a glass panel. I must admit I did smile and do a little dance about the fact that the frenchman DIDN’T say, “You can’t get a visa. Go away.” I take this as a positive sign and will now wait anxiously for the postman to bring me my passport.

French consulate building

St Martin – Patron saint of all things French (this is where the consulate is)

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