Boxes

Most of our important belongings are on their way from Los Angeles to Paris via international shippers. At least, that is what we hope. We have serious doubts.   Our first clue that we might be in trouble was when the information given to us by the movers mentioned French francs. Did no one tell them about the EU or do they merely update their paperwork every millennium? Letting that pass, we were now asked to get insurance to pay for the shipping in case our containers fell overboard.  That immediately brought two things to mind – either our belongings were going on the Lusitania II or they were expecting the pirates of the Caribbean. We opted to put caution to the wind and not get the coverage.   On the original visit to our home, we received an estimate that was rather high. We then decided that we would ship fewer pieces of furniture and put more books into storage. Our second estimate was considerably less and needless to say, a great relief.  On moving day, two stalwart looking fellows went through our artwork, china, books, etc. like a windstorm. Everything was packed and gone in a matter of a few short hours.  Several days later, after the official weighing, our moving charge was now what appeared to be a combination of both previous estimates.  This of course did not include the charges on the other side of the ocean where either flights of stairs or a hydraulic lift would send the bill to new and even greater heights.   When I asked the representative if our shipment would be going through London (affable creature that he was) he retorted" England? Don’t you know your geography? Why would it be going through ENGLAND?" He is absolutely right; the route around Cape Horn makes much more sense. We were off to a wonderful start.   He then requested an attestation de non cessation along with our paperwork. A simple matter – I would call the Los Angeles French consulate. What a delightful surprise to find out that they never heard of that particular document and insisted that the shipper must supply any documents needed. Of course the shipper sent me back to the consulate and so forth and so on. After a desperate call to the French Embassy in Washington, I was emailed a French document that was not exactly the attestation but something that might work in its place. It merely needed to be completely translated into English by someone. Of course, that someone was not me.   It was several weeks later that I would be contacted by the shipper’s London office. Yes, the containers really were coming through England and as a member of the EU, all that dreaded paperwork I had so feverishly searched for was totally unnecessary. I did however get them to credit me for the cost of the translation. There was no fitting reimbursement for my time and frustration.   The London office has recently insisted that I contact the Paris police department to make all the arrangements for closing our street during delivery. They are obviously more optimistic about the arrival of our shipment than I am. That being said, there is no way that I am taking myself to the police department and with my minimal French, even attempting to ask them to do something like cordon off a street, albeit one of the smallest streets in the Marais. A series of rather adamant phone calls were in the making. Local shippers will now deal with the parking issues and the Rolling Stones Tour Bus they had intended to use has been replaced with two small trucks.   Alas, we recently received word via email that our shipment has quite literally missed the boat and will be delayed. We are talking REALLY delayed and as so aptly expressed in Samuel Beckett’s ‘WAITING FOR GODOT’, time has become the act of waiting.   I wrote the London representative in charge of our account only to receive an automatic email response stating he would be out of the office for the next NINE MONTHS. At the rate things are going, the next correspondence will mention something about the Bermuda Triangle.   We are at home in our apartment in the Marais, but we will not be "home" until the artwork we have collected and the photos I have taken fill the blank white walls, until the special china with sentimental value is set on holidays and other special occasions, until the photographic and computer equipment we need to continue our work is readily at hand.  Til then we are in a rented apartment, partially furnished.   On that much anticipated day of delivery, the boxes and crates will be coming up three floors via a hydraulic lift which will undoubtedly break. Or better yet, our 61 boxes will be filled with the touring costumes of the Cirque de Soleil. It is only a matter of time. To be continued…. Copyright © Carlyn Snell