I had always wanted to live outside the US — to experience the world and myself in a new way. But when the opportunity finally came, I didn’t realize how difficult it would be.
In 2017, I was 46 and dating a French man. After visiting the city of lights several times, I decided to move from my home in Los Angeles to Paris so I could be with him.
While the move sounded like a fairy tale, it wasn’t always easy. Still, all the struggle was worth it in the end.
Before the move, there was a lot of paperwork
First, I had to figure out which visa I could legally apply for. There was a visa for talent (my acting career was not exactly on fire), a family visa (I had a boyfriend, not a fiancé), a student visa (I was not enrolled at a French university), and a long-stay visa. For the long-stay visa, I only had to have enough in the bank to support myself for a year and a place to stay in Paris. That worked perfectly for me.
I muddled through the paperwork and made my appointment at the French consulate in Los Angeles before my next trip to Paris. I could stay with my boyfriend until I found a place. But when I got there, the woman behind the desk said I would have to have an original document from him stating that I was “welcome in his home.”
We laughed about that and in the end decided to get a new apartment together. I was shocked when we applied for four different apartments before we were approved.
In the meantime, I was trying to get my French phone set up and a bank account. At the time, French banks required me to fill out miles of paperwork. It wasn’t easy.
Adjusting to the culture wasn’t smooth either
Once I was settled, I got a tutor. I had studied French in high school but hadn’t spoken it in years. I was surprised to find that many people here preferred to speak French over English with me, even though I knew very little of the language.
I also learned that if you can speak at least functional French, you’ll get much better treatment by everyone, from the transport police who monitor the Metro to your local fishmonger at the farmers market.
Beyond the language itself, I needed to learn the cultural norms. One day, for example, I walked into a Starbucks, hoping for a bit of home.
The girl behind the counter said, “Bonjour.” I immediately launched into my order, but the barista stared back and repeated, “Bonjour,” this time with stern eyes.
I quickly learned it’s rude to start a conversation with anything but “bonjour” in France. I kept finding myself in awkward situations because I was unknowingly being a rude American.
Over the years that followed, there were more culture bumps, but I learned to adapt.
The move from the US to France was worth it in the end
My partner and I are now in a civil partnership, which has allowed me to stay in France for the last eight years.
For almost a decade now, I’ve learned to adapt to the Parisian life. I’ve learned to eat fruits and vegetables in season, like artichokes in February and strawberries in May. I know what I’m buying at the farmers market will always be the freshest.
I continue to be impressed by this beautiful country, from the history to the architecture. Life moves at a slower pace here. I don’t have to drive because public transport is terrific. Paid vacation time is plentiful. Plus, healthcare is much cheaper here than in the US.
Now, many of my friends are looking to flee California, citing the fires, the high cost of housing, and traffic.
I tell them all to come join me in France. Sure, it’s annoying when you sometimes sit down in a café and it’s 15 minutes before you even have a menu, but that’s France. You’re meant to just sit back and relax here.
