Made In Moldova

I've been bemoaning the fact that I'm stuck in France until I'm granted my carte de sejour. Limoges is cold and grey; the weather I've been warned about has descended at long last. And it's here to stay. So if the travel bug itches, I'm trapped-- horror of horrors-- in the grand hexagonal boundary of the French State. But all joking aside... I found out that one of my friends in class is from Moldova-- that tiny, ill-fated nation without even access to the Black Sea, where factories produce those fancy tablecloths, for example, sold in the high-end kitchen stores like Williams-Sonoma-- and she is seeking political asylum in France. She bought a fake visa to get the hell outta dodge, was detained at the airport, and now may be granted papers in 10 (count 'em, 10!) years. That means she can't leave France, she can't see her friends and family, for ten years.