(the misadventures of an expatriate corporate dropout)

Tuesday, April 22, 2008

a consulate we go.

Okay readers, wish me luck. I am on my way to the French Consulate in San Francisco this morning, armed with stacks of documents in quadruplicate, a few extra for good measure and wearing my lucky Chanel sautoir (a long, rather showy necklace).

All I ask is for permission to stay longer than 3 months. Is that so bad?

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