Reflections on a Year in France
On July 15th, 2024, my wife Charlotte and I boarded a plane to Paris with three carry-on bags and a carry-on very old cat. We'd also checked four huge bags. It was a record amount of luggage for us. The reason? We were leaving the United States and, for the foreseeable future, not coming back.
We'd sold our house, sold most of our stuff, and shipped less than a studio apartment's worth of things across the ocean. We had an apartment lined up, but would have to wait a month to move in. While we had places to stay—hotels and crashing with family—we were technically transients. On August 18th, we finally moved in and began actually getting settled. We live in Saint-Cloud, which is about a twelve-minute drive outside of Paris.
It's been about a year since then. In some ways, it feels like it's been ten, in others it feels like it's been maybe two months. We spent a lot of time caring for the cat, who was quite sick, before he finally passed in March. That was stressful. Charlotte started a new job at a new school, having to make all new lesson plans. That was stressful. I had to search for and find a job, then dive into getting to know a new product, team, and technology. That was stressful. There was an insane amount of bureaucracy and clerical shit to deal with. That was … you get it. Stress does weird things to time perception.
But along with all that stress there was a lot of great stuff, including adaptation to life in France. I've done this once before: we lived here for six months from late 2015 to early 2016. But I made fewer efforts during that time to incorporate, because I knew I'd be coming back. I'm not sure this time. We're here till at least 2029. We might be here forever. Better learn how to be a part of the ebb and flow of the place.
It's nice. Life feels less precarious here. While our combined income took a hit with the move (European tech salaries are lower than US tech salaries), it doesn't matter. The cost of living is slightly lower. Our taxes pay for nationalized healthcare and other services. We don't have to, need to, or want to own a car. There are additional things I could mention. If there's been any decrease in our quality of life, I sure haven't noticed.
It's not all baguettes and wine (although I've had a lot of baguettes and wine!). There are frustrations aplenty. This is true of life anywhere, and honestly day-to-day life in France is not particularly different from what it was in the US. I get up, I work out, I take a shower, I eat breakfast, and I go to work … by which I mean go to my home office, as I've been fully remote since 2010. It's just that if I look out our living room window from the right angle, I can see the Eiffel Tower.
There are small differences, though. The produce is, on average, much better here. Ice cubes are rare - you might get one or two if you order a Coke or Perrier at a café. Decent Mexican food is almost impossible to find, but high-quality Vietnamese is everywhere. The cars are smaller and there are virtually no pickup trucks, although the SUV plague is encroaching, especially in rich areas. The bread, viennoiseries (what Americans call “pastries”) and pastries (what Americans call “dessert”) are, on average, mind-blowing. The meat is better, more ethically treated, and much less likely to give you food poisoning. The seafood is unbelievable. You can get a COVID vaccine without having to fight RFK Jr. in a steel cage match. No one has guns. No one worries about anyone else having guns. No one wants to have guns. Most people get six weeks of vacation, and most people actually take them.
You can't buy anything even vaguely medical in a grocery store, not even antacid. Got heartburn on a Sunday night? You're hoofing it to whatever 24-hour pharmacy might be within 100 miles of you, or you're eating baking soda straight out the package (which you can buy in the grocery store, but only in the cleaning section). If you want some Advil, you can only buy it in packs of 12 at a time, each pill individually blister-wrapped. The pharmacist will solemnly tell you to take one tablet no more than every six hours, with plenty of water, and never on an empty stomach. She will also recommend a homeopathic alternative for some reason. You will thank her, walk out the door, and immediately dry-swallow four tablets having eaten nothing for the last half day.
But when you go to fill a prescription, the same pharmacist will note that you haven't received your carte vitale yet so they have to charge you full price. She will apologize repeatedly and insist you keep the receipt so that when you do get your medical card, you can get reimbursed. She will be appalled that the French bureaucracy, in its eternal slowness, has failed you in this manner. The terrible full cost you pay for the meds will be … nine euro.
There is absolutely no goddamn culture here whatsoever of getting out of people's way. No one cares that they are holding a hundred people up by calmly reorganizing their entire wallet after paying for their cheese purchase at the busiest market in human history. No one cares that they are taking up the entire sidewalk standing around talking, forcing you into a busy street with two suitcases and a backpack. Not the world's oldest woman who is telling her life story to a post office employee while a line thirteen deep forms behind her, not the teens kicking a soccer ball around in the middle of a crowded subway interchange, and not the 30-something guy on your morning run who is taking up the entire sidewalk while putting the “stroll” in “pushing a stroller.”
But people will always say bonjour when you enter a store, or sometimes just pass them on the sidewalk. All but the most obnoxious of Parisian waiters in the worst tourist areas will appreciate your speaking in French and compliment your mediocre attempts. The guy running the wine store on the corner will spend 20 minutes helping you narrow down the bottle that will please both your 78-year-old traditionalist father-in-law and your gourmand brother-in-law, and then will recommend five others you should try. You will trip in a parking lot, scrape up your hand, and be absolutely swarmed by people reacting like your arm was torn fully off and they have only minutes in which to save your life.
On top of the cultural differences big and small, there have been events of all types. We're able to see Charlotte's family more easily and more regularly now, which has been nice, even if big gatherings of people all speaking in rapid-fire French are still intimidating for me. We also got to host several members of my family who made the trek over from the US in April, which was awesome. We've also made some new friends, and reconnected with some old ones, hosting several get-togethers at our place and attending several others.
Around New Year's we visited Saint-Malo on the northern Brittany coast, which was lovely despite the time of year and my battling a nasty cold. This summer, we had the opportunity to take a long weekend in central France where we did everything from hiking to exploring Chateau de Chambord. We will surely see more parts of the country that we've not been to before. We've been able to visit other European destinations more easily, too, taking trips to Malta, Latvia, and Estonia so far. I've been to both Berlin and Barcelona for work get-togethers, and will be in Alicante, Spain, for a tech conference soon. In between all that, we regularly get into Paris proper for shows, basketball games, movies, and more.
Overall, I've had an amazing first year and I feel genuinely blessed to have this opportunity. I can't wait to see what the next year brings. I just hope it comes with a little less stress. I'd like the time to slow down, a bit, so things are more relaxed. There's a lot to enjoy!