The details can kill you. And discourage you. They can almost stop you in your tracks.
Moving to another country is not as easy as packing a suitcase and taking a taxi to the airport. VISAs, passports, bank accounts, health insurance, storage units, taxes. . . I could go on, but I won’t bore you with those details. You are more interested, I’m sure, in how I’m finally getting there.
The short answer is that I’m going on my passport, at least initially. It’s the fastest and easiest way to get there. You can stay in France for up to 90 days on an American passport. For a longer stay, you need a VISA; and I’m not prepared to get a VISA just yet. Why not? Well, you have to be a student, have a job, married to a French national, or independently wealthy to get the long-stay VISA, which is good for one year. I’m none of those things. You see, moving to France to fall in love is NOT considered a valid reason for a VISA. It seems the French, and the Americans, for that matter, are not concerned with matters of love. Surprising, isn’t it?
I’ll figure out the rest later, which is really out-of-character for me. I’m not usually a throw-everything-to-the-wind kind of person. I’m thorough. I research everything. Analyze everything. Find the cheapest, the most expedient, the safest, the most efficient solution. But my counselor says I think to much. And I’m an unconventional person trying to live a conventional life. She told me I’m sitting on the fence trying to climb down the other side. I just need to jump. She’s great with analogies.
So here I go. I’m about to jump. I just hope I don’t drown.