DRIVE, BABY, DRIVE, or how to get your French Driver's License
by Samantha Verant
French Driving License Fact 1:
Arkansas, Colorado, Connecticut, Delaware, Florida, Illinois, Kansas, Kentucky, Michigan, New Hampshire, Ohio, Pennsylvania, South Carolina, Texas, and Virginia, as well as few Canadian provinces (Quebec, Newfoundland, Labrador, Manitoba, Prince Edward Island and Ontario), are the only states with reciprocity with the French government when exchanging your driver's license, which means if you plan on moving to France, and you don't live in one of these states, you better find a relative, a friend, and get 'er done hades or high water...or suffer the consequences: French Driving School.
Fact 2:
You have exactly one year from your entry into France, dated from your Visa/Carte de Sejour, to exchange your license. JUST IN: you must apply at least three months before this one year recognition period expires.
Fact 3:
If you have a driver's license issued by an EU or EEA Member state you are not required to exchange your license for a French one as long as it's valid.
Fact 4:
If you're not able to do the above, and if you want to drive, you'll have to pay upwards of 600 euro to attend a French Driving School. And if your French isn't good enough* to pass the written exam with all those trick questions, you'll have to pay again. And again. And again. Apparently, the written test is 40 questions long and you have to answer 35 of them correctly. You only have 30 seconds to answer each question. Cue the theme from Jeopardy. You'll also have to take lessons behind the wheel, which cost 35 euro/per hour (more or less). It's freaking expensive! For those of you in this situation, I'm sorry. I feel for you, I do. *It may be possible to hire a translator, which obviously costs more money, and there is such a thing called lost in translation...
Fact 5:
You can drive in France with any valid American license as a tourist (might be worth it to get the AAA International Translation of your license before you leave, which is fifteen dollars), but if you are a resident of France, you must get French driver's license before the one year time frame ends or you will be driving illegally. Which also means you won't be insured.
Fact 6:
Once you get your French Driver's License it never expires.
Now on to the post: How I got my French Driver's License
When I moved to California I didn't exchange my Illinois license. It wasn't laziness or fear, but pride, considering I was moving back in with the parents. And maybe, just maybe, a small part of me knew I'd eventually be moving to France. Whatever the case, I had a license from one of the states in reciprocity with the French government.
I moved to France early August 2009 and my license expired that October 18th. So I had two months to make the exchange, otherwise I'd be up a very expensive creek without a paddle. We had to move fast. About a week after I arrived, my brand new French husband and I went to the prefecture with, what we thought, were the required documents:
a) My long stay visa
b) My passport, which had said visa in it
c) My American License
d) A translation of said license by a certified translator
e) Two id photos – it's interdit (prohibited) to smile
f) Proof of address (some bills in my husband's name)
g) An affidavit from my husband stating I live with him
We thought it was in the bag.
And we'd thought wrong.
After speaking to a somewhat pleasant woman at a plexi-glass counter, we were told to take a seat. A few moments later, another woman – apparently the one in charge – came into the waiting room, called us over, and asked where my carte de sejour was. We explained that we were told that my long stay visa took the place of the carte de sejour for the first year. The woman was quick to correct us. "No, no, no, she said. You don't get a card, but you must get your premier titre de séjour from L'Offi (immigration), which they put in your passport. It may take up to three months to get your appointment there!"
News to me.
My heart plummeted into my stomach. My bottom lip quivered. Once again I'd found myself stuck in a web of red tape. Getting married in France was hard enough. Now I had to deal with my driver's license (never fun) and becoming an actual immigrant (even worse). I quickly explained that I was told I had three months to send in some paperwork to register with L'Offi, but nobody had told me I had to actually go there, nor that I needed this special stamp in my passport.
I was on the verge of tears.
She nodded her head with understanding. "Yes,” she said. “This has happened before." She paused. "I see your license expires in two months. If you can get a statement from L'Offi acknowledging your appointment has been made (the French are big on affidavits, called "faire un mot"), we can start the paperwork and I'll hold your license for you, rendering it when you have your premier titre de séjour."
Somebody in the French government was being nice, helpful, and understanding? Out of breath from running on a never-ending paper trial for our marriage documents, this (although frustrating) was most welcome news. My husband and I thanked the lady profusely.
The moment we got home, my husband called L'Offi on my behalf. He was able to get somebody in charge and explained the situation. Although the first appointment wasn't until November, after my license had expired, the man agreed to send the affidavit to us via email.
It arrived in Jean-Luc's inbox within ten minutes.
And whoa! The French government actually worked quickly? Not to put the American system down, but things, well, they moved a tad bit slower. Or, maybe I was just having one of those rare lucky days.
About two hours later, the man from L'Offi emailed my husband again, saying an appointment had opened up in early October. Would I like it? And hell to the yeah, yeah, yeahs! He also explained, that after I paid the taxes (around 300 euro), passed my medical exam (which was given at L'Offi), spoke with an official so they could assess my French and employment skills, and sat through a two hour lecture on France, I would receive my premiere titre de séjour that day.
By the skin on my teeth, I was able to get everything done one week before my license expired.
So I went back to the prefecture, all required documents in hand, including the premiere titre de séjour in my passport, ready to exchange my Illinois license for the Permis de Conduire.
The lady at the window had another agenda: torturing me.
LADY (in French): When did you get your American driver's license?
Me (huh?): When I was sixteen?
LADY: What year?
ME (agh. I'm horrible with years): Mille Neuf Cent...Can I write it down?
writes down 1986
LADY: This license was issued three years ago, not 1986. You have to get me a copy of your original license.
Me (voice is shaky): But we renew our licenses in the US! And it's impossible to get a copy of my old license, especially one from so long ago. And it wouldn't be valid. Plus, I live here now.
LADY: I'm sorry, but there's nothing I can do. We have rules.
Me (getting mad): I'd like to speak with the woman in charge, the one in the back, please. She assured me the last time I was here I had everything I needed.
LADY (eyes me up and down, then rolls her eyes): One moment. Please have a seat.
I step away from the counter and sit in salle d'attente. The woman leaves her desk and reappears five or ten minutes later. It feels like hours. I’m shuddering in my seat like a nervous Cocker Spaniel. It’s a wonder I didn’t piddle. The woman shuffles some papers and finally calls me over.
LADY: Okay, I spoke with my superior and we can give you your Permis, but it will have to say you've only been driving for three years, from the date stated on your current American license.
Me: That's fine! Perfect!
(I don't care if it says I've been driving for a day. JUST. GIVE. IT. TO. ME. NOW.)
LADY (pushes a receipt through the slot): It takes about three weeks. You're able to drive with this for now, and you’ll be contacted when it's ready to be picked up. Good day.
ME: Thank you. (blows out sigh of relief)
I didn't question why it took so long to prepare a piece of pink paper with my picture glued into it. I just left, happy to have survived the process.
Three weeks later I received a post card in the mail stating my Permis de Conduire was ready. I went back to the prefecture where, after waiting a few moments, the helpful and understanding woman I'd met the first time came out from the back office...smiling.
And that's how I got my French driver's license.
Bon chance if you need to get yours!
After overcoming many obstacles, not to mention new relationship woes, language faux-pas, and cultural differences, Samantha Vérant lives just outside of Toulouse, France with her French husband, his two tadpoles, and a psycho kitty named Bella.
Blog: http://thefrogandaprincess.blogspot.com
Facebook: http://www.facebook.com/pages/Seven-Letters-from-Paris
Twitter: @slverant
DRIVE, BABY, DRIVE, or how to get your French Driver's License
by Samantha Verant
French Driving License Fact 1:
Arkansas, Colorado, Connecticut, Delaware, Florida, Illinois, Kansas, Kentucky, Michigan, New Hampshire, Ohio, Pennsylvania, South Carolina, Texas, and Virginia, as well as few Canadian provinces (Quebec, Newfoundland, Labrador, Manitoba, Prince Edward Island and Ontario), are the only states with reciprocity with the French government when exchanging your driver's license, which means if you plan on moving to France, and you don't live in one of these states, you better find a relative, a friend, and get 'er done hades or high water...or suffer the consequences: French Driving School.
Fact 2:
You have exactly one year from your entry into France, dated from your Visa/Carte de Sejour, to exchange your license. JUST IN: you must apply at least three months before this one year recognition period expires.
Fact 3:
If you have a driver's license issued by an EU or EEA Member state you are not required to exchange your license for a French one as long as it's valid.
Fact 4:
If you're not able to do the above, and if you want to drive, you'll have to pay upwards of 600 euro to attend a French Driving School. And if your French isn't good enough* to pass the written exam with all those trick questions, you'll have to pay again. And again. And again. Apparently, the written test is 40 questions long and you have to answer 35 of them correctly. You only have 30 seconds to answer each question. Cue the theme from Jeopardy. You'll also have to take lessons behind the wheel, which cost 35 euro/per hour (more or less). It's freaking expensive! For those of you in this situation, I'm sorry. I feel for you, I do. *It may be possible to hire a translator, which obviously costs more money, and there is such a thing called lost in translation...
Fact 5:
You can drive in France with any valid American license as a tourist (might be worth it to get the AAA International Translation of your license before you leave, which is fifteen dollars), but if you are a resident of France, you must get French driver's license before the one year time frame ends or you will be driving illegally. Which also means you won't be insured.
Fact 6:
Once you get your French Driver's License it never expires.
Now on to the post: How I got my French Driver's License
When I moved to California I didn't exchange my Illinois license. It wasn't laziness or fear, but pride, considering I was moving back in with the parents. And maybe, just maybe, a small part of me knew I'd eventually be moving to France. Whatever the case, I had a license from one of the states in reciprocity with the French government.
I moved to France early August 2009 and my license expired that October 18th. So I had two months to make the exchange, otherwise I'd be up a very expensive creek without a paddle. We had to move fast. About a week after I arrived, my brand new French husband and I went to the prefecture with, what we thought, were the required documents:
a) My long stay visa
b) My passport, which had said visa in it
c) My American License
d) A translation of said license by a certified translator
e) Two id photos – it's interdit (prohibited) to smile
f) Proof of address (some bills in my husband's name)
g) An affidavit from my husband stating I live with him
We thought it was in the bag.
And we'd thought wrong.
After speaking to a somewhat pleasant woman at a plexi-glass counter, we were told to take a seat. A few moments later, another woman – apparently the one in charge – came into the waiting room, called us over, and asked where my carte de sejour was. We explained that we were told that my long stay visa took the place of the carte de sejour for the first year. The woman was quick to correct us. "No, no, no, she said. You don't get a card, but you must get your premier titre de séjour from L'Offi (immigration), which they put in your passport. It may take up to three months to get your appointment there!"
News to me.
My heart plummeted into my stomach. My bottom lip quivered. Once again I'd found myself stuck in a web of red tape. Getting married in France was hard enough. Now I had to deal with my driver's license (never fun) and becoming an actual immigrant (even worse). I quickly explained that I was told I had three months to send in some paperwork to register with L'Offi, but nobody had told me I had to actually go there, nor that I needed this special stamp in my passport.
I was on the verge of tears.
She nodded her head with understanding. "Yes,” she said. “This has happened before." She paused. "I see your license expires in two months. If you can get a statement from L'Offi acknowledging your appointment has been made (the French are big on affidavits, called "faire un mot"), we can start the paperwork and I'll hold your license for you, rendering it when you have your premier titre de séjour."
Somebody in the French government was being nice, helpful, and understanding? Out of breath from running on a never-ending paper trial for our marriage documents, this (although frustrating) was most welcome news. My husband and I thanked the lady profusely.
The moment we got home, my husband called L'Offi on my behalf. He was able to get somebody in charge and explained the situation. Although the first appointment wasn't until November, after my license had expired, the man agreed to send the affidavit to us via email.
It arrived in Jean-Luc's inbox within ten minutes.
And whoa! The French government actually worked quickly? Not to put the American system down, but things, well, they moved a tad bit slower. Or, maybe I was just having one of those rare lucky days.
About two hours later, the man from L'Offi emailed my husband again, saying an appointment had opened up in early October. Would I like it? And hell to the yeah, yeah, yeahs! He also explained, that after I paid the taxes (around 300 euro), passed my medical exam (which was given at L'Offi), spoke with an official so they could assess my French and employment skills, and sat through a two hour lecture on France, I would receive my premiere titre de séjour that day.
By the skin on my teeth, I was able to get everything done one week before my license expired.
So I went back to the prefecture, all required documents in hand, including the premiere titre de séjour in my passport, ready to exchange my Illinois license for the Permis de Conduire.
The lady at the window had another agenda: torturing me.
LADY (in French): When did you get your American driver's license?
Me (huh?): When I was sixteen?
LADY: What year?
ME (agh. I'm horrible with years): Mille Neuf Cent...Can I write it down?
writes down 1986
LADY: This license was issued three years ago, not 1986. You have to get me a copy of your original license.
Me (voice is shaky): But we renew our licenses in the US! And it's impossible to get a copy of my old license, especially one from so long ago. And it wouldn't be valid. Plus, I live here now.
LADY: I'm sorry, but there's nothing I can do. We have rules.
Me (getting mad): I'd like to speak with the woman in charge, the one in the back, please. She assured me the last time I was here I had everything I needed.
LADY (eyes me up and down, then rolls her eyes): One moment. Please have a seat.
I step away from the counter and sit in salle d'attente. The woman leaves her desk and reappears five or ten minutes later. It feels like hours. I’m shuddering in my seat like a nervous Cocker Spaniel. It’s a wonder I didn’t piddle. The woman shuffles some papers and finally calls me over.
LADY: Okay, I spoke with my superior and we can give you your Permis, but it will have to say you've only been driving for three years, from the date stated on your current American license.
Me: That's fine! Perfect!
(I don't care if it says I've been driving for a day. JUST. GIVE. IT. TO. ME. NOW.)
LADY (pushes a receipt through the slot): It takes about three weeks. You're able to drive with this for now, and you’ll be contacted when it's ready to be picked up. Good day.
ME: Thank you. (blows out sigh of relief)
I didn't question why it took so long to prepare a piece of pink paper with my picture glued into it. I just left, happy to have survived the process.
Three weeks later I received a post card in the mail stating my Permis de Conduire was ready. I went back to the prefecture where, after waiting a few moments, the helpful and understanding woman I'd met the first time came out from the back office...smiling.
And that's how I got my French driver's license.
Bon chance if you need to get yours!
After overcoming many obstacles, not to mention new relationship woes, language faux-pas, and cultural differences, Samantha Vérant lives just outside of Toulouse, France with her French husband, his two tadpoles, and a psycho kitty named Bella.
Blog: http://thefrogandaprincess.blogspot.com
Facebook: http://www.facebook.com/pages/Seven-Letters-from-Paris
Twitter: @slverant
การแปล กรุณารอสักครู่..