Going back to the States to get my visa was alllllll kinds of a mess. Just top notch chaos from the moment I landed until I got back on the flight to Paris.

First off, I was sick the entire time. And not a vague cold or sinus thng, but an actual case of the flu, a cold, and then bronchitis. I landed in Paris last Sunday and today (Saturday) is the first day I am sitting up, eating something other than soup, and doing my endless laundry. This is normally when I would complain about my combo washer and dryer that I need to vacuum after every load, but not now. Paris is the best. The French are precious and not annoying at all. I swear on the grave of Charles de Gaulle, I will never ever be annoyed with the French-ness of anything again.

Honestly, the trip started off really nice. Air France business class is just top notch. Landing at O’Hare and going through customs? Two hours. Uber to downtown to be near the embassy? 90 minutes. The hotel I picked based on whimsy, was very mid-tier. No bellman and on directly on Michigan Avenue. My suitcases? Many.

I finally figured out how to get Taco Bell delivered (God Bless you DoorDash) and sucked down enough water to float a large toddler in a kiddie pool.

My French immigration lawyer booked me at an expedited visa center at the end of the day on Friday. Of the 25 people in the waiting room, all of them were going to France. The people there for Britain and Scandanavia were literally playing a game of office tennis.

The first thing I did was fill out the shipping information for my passport & visa to be returned. They came back with the FedEx slip printed out for me to confirm. I took a quick photo of it and I am so happy I did. It turns out this was the only real tracking mechanism that worked.

I was exhausted but back at the hotel to have an Italian Beef sandwich (I mean, come on) and about another two gallons of ice water. 

The next morning I grabbed a train out of Union Station – simple right? Nope. The main entrance was closed and there was not a handicapped accessible ramp. I had three large suitcases and the Uber driver took off immediately. A nice family helped me lug my suitcases up the front stairs, which was super kind. The only issue was there were three flights of stairs to get down to the waiting area. 

Being used to trains in Europe, I didn’t realize you had to check bags an hour in advance so I then had to lug my bags down a second set of stairs to the tracks and then up another set of stairs to the sleeper car. 

When traveling with lots of luggage, it turned out to be cheaper to take the train and get a whole bed (well half bed) than to fly internally with extra luggage. I had my own toilet and shower combo. The train stations have something called the Farmer’s Fridge and the selections were both healthy and yummy. 13/10 – would definitely eat again.

I got into the train station about 11 pm. at night and Ubered to my North Loop small loft VRBO rental. 

This is where things take a horrible turn. This place was the absolute worst. Like terrible beyond words. Everything looked okay, but it was all surface. The stove was too small to use. There were exactly four forks, knives, spoons, coffee mugs, and ice cubes. The bedding was made out of some polyester type fabric that was new and never washed. Same with the cheap towels. The blankets were literally still in the plastic shrink-wrapped. 

I rented the place mainly for the washer and dryer – however the dryer wouldn’t even open. I asked for three days for a dryer to use (and bought my own sheets) – and they finally let me use a unit two floors up and only for a few hours. Honestly, the two weeks I spent there were probably the most miserable of my life. 

The visa situation was a mess and there was no tracking despite promises of tracking the whole way through. The entire system in France seems to be based on shrugs and soothing sounds that things will be okay – no evidence provided at all. As a type A boss bitch this made me crazy. All that went through my mind 24/7 was…”visa, visa, visa.” The only thing that was actually trackable was the FedEx number I photographed at the visa center. I hit refresh on the FedEx app about 800x a day. 

While all this was going on the flu was literally raging through my body. Then the cold came. 

I moved to the Hyatt in Saint Paul directly across from Union Depot so I could be as close as possible to getting home. It turned out to be the old Post Office building where I spent two weeks in summer in college trying to fit into to a place that wasn’t my bag. Life is funny sometimes. 

I tried to reset and succeeded for about four days before I started exhibiting symptoms of bronchitis. 

My dad was a mensch and took me to my storage locker in Plymouth several times to combine and look for a few nuggets of gold in the voluminous boxes. My mom was sick during most of my visit, but we had brunch and lunch during my sojourn. We ate breakfast sausage and had mall Mexican (the best is La Casita by the actual mall). 

I moved my flight to the third Saturday in the US and hoped for the best. Finally, the best day arrived. I got a notification from FedEx that my passport was on my way back to me (18 days after submission). 

The final reverse of the first – car, train and plane – was such a relief. My dad, the best man I’ll ever know, drove down to the hotel at 7 am to help me get my luggage to the train checked in on time was truly just such an act of loving kindness.

I slept the entire way to Chicago because I had a fever and the cough was starting to kick in. Luckily, I had stocked up on all the OTC medications that they don’t hand out in big bottles in France. I loaded up on Mucinex, Robutussin, and Aleve. 

The cab from Union Station to my hotel – literally less than a mile from O’Hare was 90 minutes again, but I was going home. I camped out with a chili dog and enough G2 grape Gatorade to hydrate the Bears. I left the hotel four hours before my flight. I was such a sad sight, the luggage check-in at O’Hare let me check a third bag for free. 

I hung out in the lounge near my gate and at two full bowls of harissa bean soup and had two butterscotch pudding parfaits. And so much iced tea and water. Three episodes of Law and Order later, I was on the plane home.

Paris is my home now. I missed my apartment, my cat Boutros, my friends, and even the click-clacks at the office that are kind enough not to point out my non-French mistakes in fashion and style anymore and try to help me instead.

I am truly sorry that I didn’t get to see most of my friends while I was in town. I didn’t realize how stressful waiting for my permanent visa would be. Hopefully, I’ll be home again in winter to say hello and not be a big ball of anxiety.