Valence and the residency card
Ahh, the dreaded residency card. I was lucky, actually. The only obstacle in my path ended up being a blackout in the neighborhood while they were trying to print my documents. Other than an hour-long wait (that flew by, thanks to another two assistants that I had known from orientation being there at the same time), everything went smoothly. Xrays look good, all my documents were in order, all my ducks were in a row, and my tonsils are still huge. Hop! Residency card. YES.
Except…someone should have warned me that le torse nu does actually mean being completely topless for one’s xray. No paper gowns in France. But then again, this is coming from the country of nude beaches and bare breasted Vogue models. There is a gender equality in shirtlessness. The stern madame taking my xrays seemed surprised that I would even ask about my bra, let alone my cami. Is this something I should get used to?