RICK'S

So, click here to read our first real joint project--it's on a very serious topic. Casablanca

Residence Visa Processes Part 2: This is not Kafka.

The woman at reception: You have to see a man upstairs. But he’s away, come back tomorrow and I will take you.

Tomorrow. She points me down a hallway. You will see him. Room 316.

Room 316 man makes me wait. Then he says, no, see my secretaries. The secretaries chew over my name, cluck and flip through papers. They ask for dates. When was I here? More waiting. I wait.

A man walks in. Hello, you can come to my office. Down the hall. I never find out his name.

We begin an interview, which I had no idea I was there for. It lasts 2 hours.

Is there something wrong? I ask.

Oh, no, he says. It’s routine.

I give him the name of every school I’ve attended, with the exact dates. We realize I’ve forgotten to include a 6-month-long college job in a laboratory. No, he says, you must tell me everything. Those little jobs are exactly what I want to know.

This is all in French, mind you.

I tell him I studied oceanography.

Ah, he says, can you tell me why the ocean, the same ocean, sometimes it has very different qualities, the temperature.

The clarity?, I volunteer.

Yes, very different, he says. Why?

(I wonder, is this a test?) I mumble something about weather.

Have you read any books by Jacques Cousteau? Did you know that he was a Muslim?

(I wonder, do I understand French?)

The Koran, written so many years ago, gave a description of the oceans that is exact, he says.

(I’m convinced I don’t understand French)

You know, he says, talking slowly because I clearly don’t understand French. There is the sea. And there are animals that live in the sea. And there are rivers and animals that live in the rivers. And the animals that live in the rivers cannot cross to the sea, and the animals in the sea cannot cross to the river.

(What the fuck?) Smile. Nod.

Finally we make it to my second to last job. My French begins to fail me. I spent three years, I tell him, three years, working in New York for a … a…female dog on television. The word for channel is really awfully similar to the word for bitch.

We move on.

What is your religion?

I don’t really have one.

Ok ok, but what were you baptized?

I wasn’t.

No!

Pause. Looks intently at me.

Do you believe in God?

Pause. 

Yes?

As usual, my badass wife is being modest. Upon receipt of her pictured press pass, Solana hit the streets and got Obama reacts with the rest of GlobalPost's Team Islam, which resulted in our actual first story for GP. Here's the piece she reported _entirely_ in French. Which she started studying literally a month ago.

Where we've been

Don't give up on our blog yet! We've been inundated with work, thanks to a side project a friend threw our way. We're working, and no this is not an exaggeration, 7 days a week 12+ hours a day. That means less time to write a blog than you might think. Meanwhile, here's our first real piece on GlobalPost.