Wow, I am back in my absolute favourite place in Paris....NOT! Remember? Way out by Porte de Clingnancourt next to the refugees' bureau? La Prefecture de Police. Six weeks after depositing all my documentation (on the third attempt) I have finally received my infamous convocation and am sitting in a grotty waiting room in the outskirts of Paris wondering how many hours it will take this time. And more to the point: will I walk out of here with a Freeeeench driver's licence?
90 minutes later it was with great regret that I had to hand over my Swiss driver's licence and was sent back to wait ANOTHER hour.
I am the last person left at the prefecture and I can hear the authorities discussing: She wants to convert a Swiss licence that was obtained from a Spanish one based on an Italian one, etc. etc. etc...
It is NOT looking good.... Why don't they just hand over that bloody licence? I've been driving for 29 years now, for goodness sakes!!!!!
EUREKA! My number has been called and a mouse-grey functionary practically flings the piece of paper at me. He's in a hurry to get home, no doubt ... it's 17:30. Much to my dismay the French still don't have the credit-card-type driver's licence format that the Italians or the Swiss use ... BUT ... there is a bonus point: the French driver's licence comes in the colour of ... PinK!!!!!
Admidst all this bureauracy, I am surprised they never asked me for a medical (French demand medical certificates for everything) nor did they ask for an eye-sight test. For all they know, they could be sending a raving lunatic who is blind as a bat out onto their streets. But hey, the protocol didn't mention that!?!?