SNL skit or my real life? Sketch 4: Pardon madame, my "b".

When we arrived in France in November and opened the suitcases we'd sent way back last August, it felt like Christmas morning for all but one thing.  Between the children's books and winter clothes, I found a single sheet of paper: the detailed directions for how to properly file our paperwork with the OFII - the French office of immigration and integration.  This was a heart-sinker because a fuzzy cloud of confusion surrounded the OFII form for us.

Image found in online search.

The French embassy website, and the OFII form itself, were both very clear that we'd run into serious problems for not turning it in, yet when I tried to include the form with our second visa application at the end of September, it was handed back to me by the angry man within the stack of papers he deemed superfluous.  Just outside the embassy immediately after the appointment, I realized I still had the OFII form, so I quickly returned to ask why it wasn't taken.  Without explaining, the angry man acted like it wasn't important, but took it anyway.  When we eventually received our visas in the mail, not only was the OFII form not returned to us in the envelope, as the website and form directions clearly state, but we were given no further information or direction replacing this very-necessary-sounding step, with very-undesirable-sounding consequences (you know, colossal fines and/or jail time) if we failed to follow through.

In our apartment here in France, I skimmed over the OFII form directions to find any insight into the situation.  Perhaps if the form isn't returned to you, you're off the hook?  Nothing mentioned such an easy out.  Instead, I learned that as soon as the form was received by the OFII office, we would begin a process that could take up to a couple months to finish, and the entire process must be completed within three months of arrival.

So what could I do?  Everything in me wanted to ignore the direction page, blaming the French embassy for not returning our form if we got into trouble.  But, being a mature adult now, that just didn't seem wise, so I gathered the best confidence and patience I could muster and emailed the good ol' French embassy in Washington DC.  Beginning the subject line with the word, "URGENT", I got the quickest response ever, an email appearing in my inbox only two hours and forty-eight minutes later (though since I wasn't expecting such a swift reply, I didn't check email again for a couple days).  Here is the actual response I received:

Dear Madam, 

A long stay visa "temporaire" 4 months has been given to you. For such visa, you don't have to go to the OFII. 

Best regards, 

Visa section
CGF Washington

4... what?  But the dates clearly printed on our visas were "du/from 27-10-17 au/to 27-10-18".  Did they mean four months within one year?  Why didn't they communicate this to us?  I just sat and stared at the screen, wracking my brain for any memory of interaction with the visa section that would help me understand this shocking information.  I re-read the short and sour message over and over to be sure what I was seeing.  I may have yelled, "NO!" a bunch of times.  My brain attempted to formulate possible options of how we could stay in France for the duration of the apprenticeship, but there was no obvious low-hanging fruit.  And above all, my heart sank to my feet because we were here, we made it across the ocean with all our stuff, and now with a new home all set up, we were settling in.  This was confusing and terrible news.

The above email response re-sparked our restless wonder: what was really going on behind the scenes of the French embassy?  A kind of anxious conspiracy had begun to grow in our minds after our two experiences applying for the visa.  What was the real reason we were denied the first time?  Did the angry man not take our OFII form with our second application on purpose?  Then did he shred it instead of add it to our file as soon as we left?  After all, we knew our case was a bit of a square peg in a round hole.  Maybe they just didn't want to deal with it.

A freighter is an affordable way
to travel, and uses less fossil fuels
than an airplane.
Image found in online search.

On the bright side of all this, we can't help but look forward to a one month boat ride home, west across the Atlantic on a freighter departing from Bremerhaven in mid-March, even if it's eight months sooner than we planned.  The stars will be amazing, and maybe we'll see whales and dolphins!

Just kidding, keep reading!  This story has a happy ending!

After getting advice from several folks in the community, weighing out our options, and making plans to go to the Mairie (town hall) to try to apply for some other sort of residency permit, Nico and I decided to email the embassy back for more information.  Namely, we asked how we were supposed to know we were only given a four month visa when we requested a year, and the dates on the visa itself were for one year.  This second query was again answered with a remarkably quick reply - five hours and six minutes later:

Madam,
the visa is indeed for one year (sorry there was a typo in our last answer). It remains however that a "visa de long séjour temporaire" do not need the OFII; you are allowed to stay in France for the duration of the visa and then need to leave the country.
Sincerely 

Embassy of France
Visa Section

Upon reading this news, I was again left staring at the screen in utter disbelief, but this time with the opposite internal emotions.  Wouldn't "typo" mean spelling "4 months" as "4 moonths"?  Can you claim "typo" when you get someone's majorly important life details completely wrong?!  Well, who cares after all, we're free as birds and butterflies!

It was a baking day, so I printed the email and ran to the boulangerie (bakery) to deliver the humerous news of great joy to Nicolas.  I wanted to call our parents right away, but some quick math told me that at 4am on the US east coast, this was not a good time, even for such a message of freedom.

So, we're here!  We're really here now!!  And to keep the embassy humor equal, how about a quick story of the US embassy in Paris?

Nico and I were approved to drive the community's car if we would do the research and action steps to legally sit behind the wheel.  This, as everything, turned out to be easier said than done.  I discovered online that we need an international driver's licence OR a certified French translation of our Virginia driver's licence.  Opting for the latter, Robert suggested we call the United States embassy, as surely they'd have connections to a certified translator or two.

The closest US embassy is in Paris.  I called them one Wednesday afternoon, just after 2:30pm in case they'd taken on the French custom of a two hour lunch break, sometime between the hours of 11:30am and 2:30pm.  I listened to all the menu items and found one called, "Driving in France".  Perfect!  But it was only a recording of the same information I had read on the internet, so I found my way to the operator.

I began, "Hello, I'm living in France for a year and need to get my driver's license translated..."

"Ok yes, sure, just a minute," the operator responded quickly.

"Thank you," I said to the transfer tones, logically imagining that I was being forwarded to a translator or perhaps someone whose job description includes helping US citizens drive in France.  I was surprised to find the phone answered by the same automated welcome message and menu options I first heard.  "Hmmm..." I groaned and listened to all the options again in case one was obviously useful.  Finding none, I pressed the buttons to go back to the operator.  She didn't answer and the call hung up.  Wondering if she had caller ID or had just stepped away, I decided to try again.  When she answered, I attempted a more straight-forward tack, "Hello, I need a certified English-French translator..."  But she broke in again, "Yes, just a minute," and transferred me again to the menu options!

"What? No." I told the friendly automation and called the operator a fourth time. Assuming caller ID, I dove in quickly when she answered, "Don't send me away! You've sent me to the menu twice and I don't know what to do with it.  What menu option do you recommend for a French translator?"

"Just send an email to the embassy," she answered, ready to move on.  Which begs the question, why didn't she tell me this in the first place?  I prefered to talk to a person to solve this problem rather than use the internet, in favor of human-to-human interactions and more concrete life experiences, the same reason that frequent computer use is discouraged here at the Ark.  In addition, reflecting on my recent attempts to email embassies about non-urgent topics, I was encouraged to pry a little harder.

"Internet is hard for me to get to," I replied, "are there any certified English/French translators at the embassy, or that the embassy recommends?"  This flustered the poor woman.  "Listen, I don't have that kind of information, I'm the operator. You have to send the embassy an email."  Since I had hoped she would have that kind of information because she was the operator, I was a bit disappointed, but decided to drop it and thanked her anyway, wishing her a good afternoon.

Before trying the operator's suggestion, assuming it wouldn't necessarily be as easy as simply sending the embassy an email, I tried a local route to find a certified French translator.  Marion agreed to help me call the Mairie (town hall) to find a local translator, and we compared our schedules to find a time between community rhythms, garden work, naps, and the large swath of time in which the folks at the Mairie would possibly be on lunch break.

We met at 10:40 on a weekday morning, and the Mairie sent us to the Préfecture, who in turn sent us to the Tribunal (court), who had just closed for (an early?) lunch by the time we got to them at 11am.  Marion rolled her eyes and said, "It's always like this. They don't make it easy."  We re-compared our schedules and made another date to call back after the long lunch break.  By then, an automated message answered to say that too many people were calling at this time and the call was dropped.  Marion generously offered to call back later without me and she'd let me know what they said.

US embassy in Paris.
Image found in online search.

Ultimately this route hit a dead end, so I emailed the US embassy after all, having at least tried to connect directly with a person.  And the US embassy answered the same day with a list of recommended translators!  Yay!

So at this point, the path seems clear: call several official translators to get quotes, and then pick one... but who can trust clear paths in the bureaucracy anymore?  We're still en route to figuring this out, hopefully without a 5th SNL sketch... :)

Out and about

Just about every Sunday, we join the community to a Catholic mass.  Each town in the area has a church, and they take turns each Sunday on a rotation.  When we went to the several-hundred-year-old church in Tréguennec for the mass, we had to stop by the beach on the way home, since it's so close!

The land surrounding the beach is federally protected, so the natural beauty is
preserved.  We saw some hunters and their dogs searching for rabbits as we
walked down a path between low shrubs towards the dunes in the distance.

The beach is mostly sand, but there's also a smattering of beautiful rocks!
We all went home with our pockets filled with striped
rocks and spotted rocks, large and tiny, smooth and rough.

We were there at low tide... the beach is huge!
Yanni finds shells and Nico and Moisés run around in the distance.

Everybody's happy!

Christiane took us to visit her friends, Helena and Vincent, about an hour and a half away.  Helena is American, so their children are fully bilingual, French/English.  It was fun for Moisés to have some buddies he could easily talk to!!!  We visited for the better part of a Sunday, and they took us to Pointe de Dinan, a beautiful area near their house.

We saw a lot of surfers here.

A view of the French Atlantic coast.

A natural bridge, beaten out by the ocean.  Instead of taking a left when
the path forked, to cross this bridge, we took a right to see...

...a gigantic stone turtle!

Moisés and Yanni play with a friend in English!

We worked Nico's schedule to have a Saturday off (the community works 9:30am to 1pm) and took a walk to see a dairy farm, whose owner had invited Nico to come visit.  We took three wrong turns, but it was never really a problem because we were walking through such beautiful countryside.

Beginning our journey: the road outside of our house.

A beautiful thatched roof nearby.

(Unedible) ripening berries... in winter!

We saw several different colors of blooming flowers...
I'm not used to seeing such variety in winter!

We found a beautiful old communal laundry station built into the side of a
bridge.  We imagined people gathering to wash their clothes and chat.
Here, Nico and Moisés pretend to wring out their laundry.

Joel took us to the port at Guilvinec, a 20 or 30 minute drive straight south.  This ancient port still has fisher boats coming in and out, and a large market where we bought some fresh huître (oysters) to eat raw with vinegar.

Climbing the stairs from the port to the market.

The coast is rough and rocky.  Joel told us that this type of rock is known
to be especially good for millstones.  People used to cut a circle in the rock
at low tide, jam chunks of wood in the crack, and when the tide came in,
the wood would swell up and pop the stone out...!  We found some
perfect circles where this probably happened.

More introduction, in photos!

Welcome to the Farm at Gwenves!

La Boulangerie

The Bakery

Here is the bakery from the outside.  The wood is piled high in the foreground
to be sorted and dried (under the overhang) to fire up the oven twice per week.
They are beautifully re-building this barn, section by section.

Here is the bakery, in wood and cob, and the oven in stone, just beyond.

Here's where the oven meets the bakery.

Above the oven it reads, "I am the bread of life," to remind the
bakers who they serve.  The words are written in Breton,
the native language of Bretagne, this formerly Celtic region.

Team Robert and Nico load the sourdough into the oven!  They dance through
this routine together over and over, placing upwards of 40 loaves in the oven:
Puff of flour, dump the dough, pass off the basket, score the dough, open the
oven, slide in the dough, close the oven, puff of flour...
This video is for Avery.  :)

On the other side of the barn, we see the mill peeking out.  Inside the small
room, there are two large electric mills, often running, to grind organic flour from
wheat, rye, spelt, corn, rice, and buckwheat, which is sold at the local food coop.

L'Atelier

The Workshop

Another barn, just across the street from the bakery and mill, is also being
rebuilt from within, piece by piece.  The first construction project was their
workshop.  On one end of a long room, we find large and small looms,
treadle-powered sewing machines, and tools to card and spin wool.

The center of the atelier is a shoe shop and leatherworking space.

Finally, next to the shoe shop is a woodworking area, complete with just
about any handtool you can think of.  In this photo, Robert teaches Nico and
Marion how to make wooden buttons, on Gandhi Day.

Le Jardin
The Garden

David harvests spinach, épinard, in a greenhouse.

In the next greenhouse over, Elisabeth and Marion harvest mâche.  Baby
potato plants, pommes de terre, are hiding under the white covering behind them.

Heika (a visitor from Germany) and Christiane
prepare leeks, poireaux, for market.

Benoit plants onion seeds, oignons.

Two non-gardeners make pancakes out of abundant batter.

Nos Amis Animaux!

Our Animal Friends!

We love to visit Dewal and Keeta, Joel's horses, and feed them grass or clover.

We had three days where temperatures were below freezing.  On the
second day, Joel found a frozen lizard and offered that we could revive it in
a box in our house... :)  We were delighted it thawed out alright and released
it back into the wild.

You can have up to 250 chickens without a permit in France.
Here are a handful of the Ark's 249 laying hens.

Here's the back end of the roost.  Yanni loves to come here in the
mornings to watch freshly laid eggs roll out from behind the wall.

Two of the six cows.  Currently, there is no milk production,
but soon enough a few new calves will be born...

D'autres Endroits Importants

Other Important Places

Here is one of my good friends.
We meet often throughout the week.

The temporary office space (phone and internet) is in the white trailer here.
In front, on the benches under the overhang, we meet for communal prayers.
In this winter photo, you can't tell that the foliage growing up the columns are
rose bushes.  We look forward to seeing the plants grow and bloom each day.  :)

Gandhi Day

Lanza del Vasto founded the Ark with a goal to live non-violently in every aspect of life.  This vision was hugely influenced by his faith in Jesus and his stay at an ashram with Gandhi in India.  Gandhi, who renamed Lanza "Shantidas" meaning "Servant of Peace", is considered the grandfather of the Ark.

Lanza did not go to India in search of "her famous spirituality"¹, rather he had, in his own words, "converted and not without difficulty to [his] own religion [Christianity], and [he] had enough with meditating the scriptures and applying the commandments."¹  He could tell World War II was on the horizon and desperately found himself searching for

[...]a doctrine of just peace, a peace without internal contridiction and that did not have the germ of it's own destruction, a peace that did not naturally engender war! [...]
     A method for defending without offending, to stop evil without adding a new evil that redoubles it, to prevent other's injustices by some way other than committing more... A new way, a human way of resolving human conflicts.
     Who practices and teaches that?  Only one, Gandhi.
     He, the Hindu, the pagan, the father of pariahs, the defendor of the oppressed, the liberator of his people and, in principle, of all people, is who contributes complement to the teaching of Christ on this point, because the gospel without non-violence is like salt that has lost it's flavor...²

Gandhi Day is on January 30, commemorating the day he was assassinated, and it's a reverent day of fasting here at the Ark.  We met together in our nicest, whitest clothes at 9:30am for a half hour group meditation in the communal kitchen.  Then in silence, we read books by or about Gandhi and mended clothes, to the clicking of two spinning wheels, transforming pillows of sheep's wool into skeins of yarn.  Yanni and Moisés joined us for as much as possible, but came and went with Nico as their needs required.

Benoit (left) and Robert (right) spin wool on spinning wheels.
Elisabeth (center) teaches Nico, Moi, and Yan how to card wool.

David reads a book about Gandhi.
Every now and then, someone would read a quote,
from or about Gandhi, outloud to the pensive room.

Christiane, a trained calligrapher (or Kalligraph in Germany,
where she studied), works on the community's newsletter.

In the foreground, Robert spins wool on a spinning wheel.
In the background, the skills are being transmitted to
Marion, who is practicing with a drop spindle.

Moisés learns to spin with Robert.

At one o'clock, we broke the silence and made our way to the atelier (workshop) in a barn across the street.  Two years ago, when we visited the Ark for a week, the long, beautiful room didn't yet exist.  Elisabeth had given us a tour, and coming to the barn, she showed us the dusty corner where one day a space would be built to house looms, large and small, and equipment to process wool from raw material to yarn to finished products.  The vision she shared is now a reality.  The room holds all the tools necessary for three different trades: woodworking on one end, a cobbler's workspace in the middle, and weaving in the back.  It's one of my favorite places to visit on the farm.  Sometimes I step in and let the heavy door click shut behind me, just to listen to the stillness and marvel at all the potential that surrounds me.  It's a peaceful and sacred-feeling space.

On Gandhi Day, we brought life to all the workspaces at once...

...Robert taught Nico and Marion how to make wooden buttons...

Robert marks where to drill the holes.

Marion sands a finished button.

...Benoit went back and forth between the woodworking and cobblering tools, fashioning poignées pour un tiroir (drawer handles)...

Benoit, surrounded by shoe molds of every size.

...Elisabeth taught a handful of us how to card wool with a large, swinging apparatus, punctured through with nails all bent in the same direction to pass the wool through as the fibers are aligned...

Heika pulls fluffs of wool from the black bag and
drops them into the space between the swing and base.

...then we learned how to replenish yarn on a shuttle for a loom, and finally, she taught us how to pass the shuttle back and forth across the loom, pushing the correct pedals with our feet to separate the rows of yarn in the proper order.

I got to try my hand at weaving!  I even ran into a couple
problems that I felt quite pround to troubleshoot and
solve myself while Elisabeth was teaching someone else. :)

A guiding principle at the Ark is transmission of skills, the passing of knowledge from one generation to the next.  At the Ark, Gandhi Day is celebrated by carving out one day in the busy schedule to take a break from regular work and share a taste of these traditional skills to those of us who have never experienced working with our hands in these ways.


_________________________________________________________


¹ del Vasto, L. (1982). El Arca tenia por Vela una Viña. (p. 13). Spain: Ediciones Sígueme, S.A.
² del Vasto, L. (1982). El Arca tenia por Vela una Viña. (p. 16). Spain: Ediciones Sígueme, S.A.

I translated these quotes myself, with some liberal help from Google Translate and Nicolás Melas.