Swiss Embassy

I made it. I got there just in time. Oddly enough they have the same hours as the SF consulate...from 9 to 12. I got there at 11:30.

You may be asking why I cut it so very painfully close. Trust me, it wasn't intentional. I got up early and checked up here, took a quick shower...moved rooms (I decided to stay at this hotel for my last 2 days in Paris) and asked the very nice lady downstairs for directions.

After walking to the nearest metro (subway) station that had a line to get where I needed, and after trying to figure out how to deal with the whole thing...I got on my train and was on my way lightening fast. The metro here makes a thousand stops but runs very quickly...I was impressed.

I got out and suddenly...uh...where the hell am I? It appeared I was in more of a tourist area...a budget tourist area...due to the massive amount of backpack folk. FYI I was on the direct south side of the river, just West of that rather famous cathedral.

I knew it was getting urgent time wise so, foolishly, I quickly glanced at the map and started walking briskly.

Note to self and other would be travelers: If there is some place you NEED to go by X time, be sure you know how to get there WELL in advance.

In other words...I walked the wrong direction. I walked the wrong direction for quite a while in fact. I eventually gave up and nabbed a taxi...which got me to the embassy with 20 minutes to spare.

I get buzzed in and here is where the real story begins.

Not being able to speak French is an issue at times. This was one of those times. Not knowing this embassy's protocol, and me not being able to explain my situation hinders the process tremendous.

My situation was a touch complex. I had applied for my visa in SF at the consulate, but they were unable to process it completely before I left. So they instructed me to go to the Swiss Embassy in Paris to pick it up when I can. My little French language guide book is simply not prepared to explain that.

Thankfully a woman there spoke enough English to help translate, I ended up filling out a form, giving the embassy official my passport and form...with 5 minutes to spare. Yes, they are THAT serious about the timing of things.

She gave me a square metal card...magnetic on the back...with the number 77 on it and instructions in French.

It gets stranger.

Without a doubt the waiting room at the embassy is the most modern structure I have seen in Paris. Glass tables, odd furniture, an extreme multitude of plugs in the walls, very "modern" art...and a strange sign on the wall. I'll get to that later.

Perhaps it was nerves...this is my second to last step in the journey to Switzerland. Perhaps it's the lack of sleep. Perhaps it was the ultra modern decor...but I was on edge. This place was so...different. Like strange different. Like maybe I should just get the hell out of their before something utterly incomprehensible happens.

Let's get to the card and the sign.

The way it works is that the sign on the wall tells you, the number bearer, what room to go to.

Here is the sign.

Obviously someone who has a Masters in Advanced Efficiency or perhaps an escaped mental patient who stopped taking their meds YEARS ago designed it and the system. I'm thinking it was probably both.

I patiently sat and waited. Numbers would change on the wall...people would go upstairs. I swear to you that less people came down than went up.

As I sat and contemplated being #77 I started to think...maybe I applied for citizenship? Maybe, once I get up there, they are going to give me some sort of ultra-modern future jumpsuit and ship me off to a watch factory in Lucern. I kept my pen in hand...ready to fill out more forms (I was prepared to have to fill out a form just to leave that place) and also as a possible weapon to defend myself against smiling efficient Swiss.

In fact, at that moment, something came to mind. I AM in Switzerland. The embassy is part of their country. Dear lord they have my passport! I'm doomed.

Both the SF consulate and the Paris embassy had bullet proof glass separating the employees from the population. Spider senses were tingling.

All of a sudden everything became surreal and questionable. Why is the card magnetic? Why are there...literally...6 plugs on a 5 foot wall...and 12 on the other? What sort of crap do they plug in here??

I was now alone. My helper lady had gone upstairs to be...Swissed. I smiled politely. She may have been a robot.

Eventually my number popped up. Pen-weapon-form filler grasped tightly in my hand I went up stairs. I found room A...another glass box with 2 inch ballistics glass sealing me in.

Turns out all is A-OK. I've got a pretty new sticker in my passport giving me up to 8 days from today to enter Switzerland. After that the school issues me a visa to let me stay in country. The lady in there explained it all very clearly and nicely. She had pictures of fish on her wall...like ancient fish. What kind of lunatic country am I going to?

Time will tell, and I'm keeping my pen handy.