Life in France

Life in France with Dogs

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Once you’ve figured out how to move to France with dogs, the real question begins: what is it actually like to live there with them? Beyond paperwork and logistics, living abroad with pets means navigating daily routines such as walking, transportation, vet visits, and finding care when you want to travel.

There are many similarities between owning a dog in France and in the US, but also a few important differences to understand before your move. Though, overall, the transition has been easier than we expected. 

Dog Sitting Options

One of the reasons I chose France was its central location within Europe. I was excited to explore nearby cities and countries while living here. As such, it was a big priority for me to find a safe place to leave my dogs while I was traveling. 

In France, there are essentially two categories when it comes to dog sitting: a private dog sitter or a professional dog boarding business. We looked at both options to find the perfect fit for us. Rover is a popular application in France that connects pet owners to local sitters. Pet owners can easily message potential dog sitters and read reviews from previous stays. I found that the cost of pet sitting is similar to US prices.

Professional dog boarding kennels can also be a great option depending on your dog’s specific needs. However, many professional boarding facilities require additional vaccines that are standard in France but less commonly given in the States, such as leptospirosis. For this reason, we chose a private sitter instead. It would be beneficial to research the vaccination requirements of any potential dog boarding facilities if you plan on using their services. These vaccines can be given by either an American or a French veterinarian. 

Food and Veterinary Care

Moving to another country can be a traumatizing experience for pets as it involves a lot of different changes all at once. It is recommended that you check if your current dog food can be bought in France. If not, it would be beneficial to transition to a dog food that can easily be found in France before the move. There are many boutique and large chain pet stores in every French city. It is also possible to purchase dog food from French veterinarian offices and in the large supermarkets. 

There are many veterinary offices available, just as there are in America. It is possible to find a vet that speaks English, especially in larger cities and expat-heavy areas. I do strongly encourage studying and trying to use the French language while in France whenever possible. However, having the option to communicate in English during a possibly stressful veterinarian visit can be beneficial.

Walking Etiquette and Off Leash Culture

France is a dog-friendly country. You will likely encounter multiple dogs every time you leave your accommodation. One noticeable difference from the US is the prevalence of off-leash dogs. Although often illegal in public spaces, many dog owners allow their dogs to walk freely without a leash. 

In my experience, French dogs are very calm and well-behaved. They will typically not interact with humans or other dogs and happily walk down the street next to their owners. Unfortunately, there are some exceptions and some are simply curious. This can be challenging if you have an anxious or reactive dog. If this applies to you, it may be better to walk your dogs at slower times of the day, including early mornings and late evenings. 

There are dog parks available within most cities in France that allow your dog the opportunity to run freely. In Nice, where I live, two beaches allow dogs, though access is seasonal. Dogs are generally permitted in winter, while specific beaches are designated during busier months.

Transportation with Dogs

Dogs are allowed on public transportation here in Nice. They can ride trains and trams while wearing a leash and muzzle. Although France is dog-friendly in general, rules may vary slightly by city and transport provider. It is best to check local regulations before attempting any travel with your pets.

A Few Extra Things to Know

  • Many cafes and restaurants allow dogs and you will often see them quietly sitting under tables
  • Dog waste bags are often provided in public spaces, parks, and along popular walking routes
  • Pet insurance is common and generally more affordable than in the United States
  • Dog grooming services are widely available and reasonably priced in most cities

Photo of my husband with our dogs in Nice

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two dogs on a beach in Nice, France

Moving to France with Dogs: Finding a Dog-Friendly City and Apartment

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About a year ago, my husband and I sat down at the dining room table and mapped out a checklist of the characteristics we wanted in our next city. “Dog-friendly city” was one of the first things we wrote down. We have two of our own and we felt it was essential that we move somewhere where they would be welcomed. 

We quickly Googled “most dog-friendly cities in Europe” and started checking out the various cities on the list. Nice, France was ranked number three and caught our attention as my husband has been studying French for many years. After lots of research, we felt confident that the atmosphere in Nice was perfect for us. 

Fast forward a year from that conversation and we are now living here with our two dogs. I would argue that Nice is the most dog-friendly city that I have ever experienced.

Dogs are welcome on public transportation, in restaurants, on the beach, and in many grocery stores. We have noticed a few grocery stores that discourage them in the store, but these places have a “dog garage,” which is essentially a designated area outside the store to hook up their leashes while you shop. Some well-manicured parks do not allow dogs, but these account for a relatively small percentage of the city’s available green space. Overall, they’re welcome in most public spaces around the city. The locals have also been very kind to our dogs, and it has been a great conversation starter when meeting new people in our area. 

Aside from Nice, France is known to be extremely dog-friendly as a whole. I remember visiting Paris many years ago and being surprised to see many dogs sitting outside a cafe while their owners enjoyed lunch. Americans love their dogs, but rarely do they bring them along on simple errands or outings. In contrast, the French seem to bring their dogs everywhere with them. We have only recently moved to France and have not had an opportunity to travel to many other cities with the dogs. However, I look forward to adventuring around the country with the dogs in the near future and I expect they will be embraced as they have been here. 

What French Law Says About Pets and Rentals

Apartment hunting is fun for a moment before it becomes daunting. The process is quickly complicated by looking for the perfect location, amenities, monthly payments, etc. The search becomes even more challenging when you remember that most landlords aren’t exactly fond of pets. We look at our dogs and think, “You are perfect, who couldn’t love that face?” A landlord looks at them and thinks, “ Stained carpets, scratched up walls, and dirt EVERYWHERE”. 

This is why many landlords in America include “NO DOGS, NO CATS” in their apartment listings. As pet owners, we simply have to frown at the listing and move on. However, this is not the case in France. It’s illegal in France for a landlord to forbid pets in a long-term rental. Some French listings may still include similar verbiage but the renter is not obligated to respect this clause thanks to French law. I am not encouraging you to sneak pets into your accommodations in France. However, it is known that many French citizens will simply not tell their landlord about their pets before moving in. Although French landlords can not forbid pets, it is important that the dogs do not cause damage or noise disturbances in the apartment. 

With all rules, there are exceptions. In this case, landlords do have the right to refuse dogs if they are either category 1 or category 2. These dogs are classified as “dangerous” under French law and include Stafford Terriers, American Staffordshire Terriers, Rottweilers, and Tosas.  

The French law is absolutely in your favor while searching for a long-term rental in France. Despite this, it is still extremely challenging for expats to secure a French apartment. Short-term “vacation” rentals are one of the options that I would personally recommend to anyone trying to start a new life in France. The eventual goal would be to find the perfect long-term rental, but it may take some time before everything falls into place.  

Start with a Short-Term Rental

Many people choose to start their French life on Airbnb for a multitude of reasons. The Airbnb website makes it very easy to browse accommodations, read reviews, and message owners. That said, Airbnb listings are considered “short-term” rentals, and therefore, the hosts can refuse to accept pets per French law. There is a feature of the Airbnb website to filter search by Airbnb hosts that allow dogs, but I would encourage you to look at all available listings. In my personal experience, I messaged an Airbnb host who did not allow dogs and asked them to make an exception. They accepted the rental offer with an agreement that I would hire their cleaner to clean the apartment every two weeks for a small fee. 

Life in France with Dogs

I am now sitting in my dog-friendly apartment in the dog-friendly city of Nice, France, writing this article. My dogs are napping, one on the couch and the other on the bed, without a care in the world. Getting to this point was not easy; it included hours of research and many moments of extreme frustration. However, it was 100% worth it, and I would do it again in a heartbeat. These moments are worth all the effort and more.

Photo of our adorable dogs on the beach in Nice

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My First Trip to the ER in France

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Last month, I went on a four-hour hike through the snow in Chambéry, France. I put on my oversized jacket, layered up in every way, and put on my best wool socks. Equipped with a pair of leather, wool-lined boots, I thought this was going to be a walk in the park (or the woods). What I didn’t account for was the snow melting as soon as it touched my boots and my feet sitting wet for hours in the cold. The next night I discovered a small open wound had appeared by my toenail. By the next morning it was undoubtedly infected. 

Instead of immediately booking a doctor’s appointment, as I had just seen my doctor the day before the hike, I thought it would be fine if I tried to treat the wound myself. Given the title of this article, you can probably guess that wasn’t the best idea. 

By day two I was miserable, by the end of the week, I was in severe pain. No number of Manuka honey presses, green clay masks, red-light sessions, or bleach baths was healing me. So by the time I finally came to my senses on Sunday night, I realized my only option was to go to the hospital to get immediate care, only four days before my international flight to go home for the holidays. 

My French friends (pretty much family), advised I go early, so I arrived at the ER in my town at about 8:20am on Monday morning. There were 4 people waiting to be seen ahead of me. I approached the window to address the intake nurse. When she called me forward, I explained my injury. She took my carte vitale and told me she would return it after I was seen to complete payment. The carte vitale is the social healthcare card in France. It tracks healthcare visits and prescription fills, facilitating reimbursement when eligible. As a language assistant for the French public school system, I was provided one, first digitally, and eventually in card form once all my paperwork was processed. After I answered a handful of questions, I took a seat in a waiting chair. 

I was called back after about 15 minutes, this time met by a male nurse and a female assistant. Both looked relieved when they realized that I spoke French. I explained my situation and when I showed them my foot, they were immediately compassionate. They gave me a wristband to be processed as a patient and told me the doctor would call me back shortly. I returned to the waiting room for about 30 minutes. Soon enough, I was called into another room. There, a friendly young doctor of about my age explained that she would be doing an immediate procedure to remove as much of the infection as possible and to cut back the side of my ingrown toenail. 

I should probably preface this by saying that not only was this my first trip to the ER in France, but it was my first trip to the ER — ever. I took a deep breath and lay back on the operating table. We started with just local anesthesia, but the pain of the infection was quite intense, so another nurse was called in to give me laughing gas. Soon enough the procedure was over and I was able to sit up to receive my care instructions. 

I received my paperwork documenting the procedure and prescriptions to fill at the pharmacy. The doctor spoke slowly and I asked for clarification for the one word that was outside of my vocabulary. Limping back to the intake nurse to see what the damage was, she asked if I had a mutuelle, an additional private healthcare insurance to complement the social system. I replied no. She looked disappointed by the news, so I braced myself for the worst. Then she said, “That’ll be 19.98 euros,” the equivalent of about twenty dollars. Cue my sigh of relief. 

My prescriptions at the pharmacy came to another 30 euros, making my total expenditure about 50 euros. As an American, these numbers were simply astounding. I have never been so grateful for the French healthcare system. 

I won’t fool you and say it was all blue skies and rainbows from there. The following days, the pain returned and I was put on an antibiotic that contained pork and gluten — both of which I am allergic to. Passing through Paris with my suitcase and post-op foot was also not the most fun I’ve ever had. By the time I made it back to the States, I visited a doctor and received another antibiotic for $150. I guess that’s the difference between French and American healthcare, about 200%. 

My toe is fully on the mend and you can bet I’m watching my nails for any signs of ingrowth like a hawk. What a memory made! Though I’d be glad to have missed out on this experience altogether, I’m quite proud to have proven my French proficiency equal to the occasion. Have you ever gone to the ER or sought healthcare while in France? We’d love to hear about your experience. Cheers to firsts (and hopefully lasts)!

Photo taken by yours truly on the hike that started it all. Was the view worth it?

Did you enjoy this article? TAIP is 100% reader-supported through tipping. If you want to leave us a tip of any amount it would be highly appreciated.  These tips help support our efforts to keep TAIP an ad-free environment. Just like at a cafe, the tips are split evenly among the team.

Place Garibaldi in Nice

Adventures and Misadventures in Renovating an Apartment in Nice, France

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After trying for several months to find a long-term rental apartment in Nice (a losing proposition for various reasons), we decided to bite the bullet and purchase our home. We enjoyed living in Nice, having hopped from a Home Exchange to an Airbnb for several months, and pinpointed a couple of neighborhoods we liked.

Finally Finding the Apartment

We found an apartment near Mont Boron that had wonderful light and a large terrace, but it hadn’t been renovated in 50 years. The electrical setup was not compliant with current regulations and was in fact hazardous!

We stayed there in its original configuration for a month in order to get a feel for the space, and then started asking everyone we knew (not many people, at that point) if they knew trustworthy contractors. We ended up with quite a medley.

Note: Building and renovating is often a nightmare anywhere in the world. I don’t know of any building site that had zero problems (I used to work as an architect). However, you try to keep problems at an acceptable level.

Amongst the choices:

  1. A trio of professionals, who were accustomed to working together: an electrician, a plumber, and a mason, if I remember correctly. The electrician seemed very knowledgeable, but was also very bossy, so we were a bit worried and passed on the trio.
  2. Various contractors from Eastern European countries, who came recommended and whose prices were very low. We worried that the prices could change at any moment. In fact, on one estimate, it was clearly written that the prices could change!
  3. One “full” contractor who would handle everything except what we had already signed contracts for (double-glazed windows, shutters, and shades, and the kitchen outfitting).

Moving Forward with the Reno

We ended up deciding to hire the full contractor, even though his estimate was the highest. He was working on our upstairs neighbor’s apartment, and she had known him for several years. We felt it was worth the additional money to have someone with a lot of local experience (he wasn’t quite a local himself, as he was raised in the suburbs of Paris). We were asked to buy most of the materials ourselves: tiles, bathroom fixtures, and a couple of other things. He purchased plumbing infrastructure, electrical (except lamps).

He kicked us out of the apartment for 4 months, promising to be done by then. Luckily, we found a temporary vacation rental, about 15 minutes away on foot.

Once again, we asked around and researched outlets for flooring, bathrooms, and traipsed off all over town and to Cagnes-sur-Mer, about 15 km away, to make our choices.

The site was very dirty and messy, but we didn’t dare protest (we tried, but were shut down: “my workers need to be comfortable!” i.e., smoking cigarettes all over the place). Towards the end of the work, the kitchen installer came. He was a very strict and disciplined professional, and made a disparaging remark about the messiness. The next day, the apartment was cleaned up!

All in all, it was expensive, but there weren’t too many terrible incidents, and we remained within budget. Some reflections on our experience: 

  • We were shocked by the flimsiness of interior walls built in the 1970s: barely 7 cm thick, you could punch through them. We had to double up some for structural integrity.
  • The plumber assured us that we could use the bidet pipe for a toilet. He lied. After a few disgusting flooding incidents, we had to shut down the toilet. Fortunately, there are other toilets! When we protested to the main contractor, he answered that we had asked for the toilet. I was livid, but had no proof (see below).
  • The plumber (yes, him again) installed an “Insinkerator” (not my idea, but men like these things, I guess). It cost much more than his original quote, and then he told us we shouldn’t use it for more than a few seconds at a time because of the old building pipes.
  • The painters (I think) poured turpentine in the jasmine flower pot. The jasmine died.
  • The contractor promised the place would be perfectly clean when he left, but that wasn’t the case. We kept on finding bits and pieces of cement under the windows.
  • We bought toilets that are terrible at flushing. Every time I go to the US, toilets seem to flush without any issue.

However, all in all, it wasn’t too bad an experience, and our apartment is pleasant.

Feeling Lucky with Our Choice

A new friend arrived in Nice, speaking little French, and her luck was much worse, unfortunately. She went through several contractors, all flaky, leaving her in the lurch with unnecessary expenses. The first one came highly recommended from a member of an expat group on Facebook. As it turned out, he had only been hired until then as a handyman, not as a contractor. He was not prepared and had no equipment of his own. The next one wanted to go on vacation and wanted all his money, even though my friend was still waiting for the kitchen installers (the same ones I had used without a hitch), but parts were delayed. This contractor was so threatening that she gave up and paid him… and soon after he left, the bathrooms he installed were leaking.

The window installers (the same ones I had used) were delayed, but she couldn’t remain without windows, and they didn’t want to reimburse her deposit until she showed them the clause in their own contract.

The third contractor decided, after accepting to do the work, that he needed to go on vacation.

Well… months later, she is finally in her apartment, with a beautiful view, but what tribulations she went through! It seemed never-ending.

Another friend, who is French, returned to Nice from the United States and bought a beautiful old apartment. She hired a well-recommended contractor who ran into personal problems and disappeared with her money (I am not sure how much. A lot.) She didn’t react fast enough, and the police couldn’t help her. She had to hire another team, and fortunately, she now has an almost-finished apartment.

I’m not sure what other lessons to offer! One thing is certain: get as much as you can in writing. For example, if I had asked the plumber to put in writing that a toilet was feasible in that bathroom, he couldn’t pretend that I had insisted on a toilet.

In any case, if you do embark on a renovation journey… bon courage! You’ll need nerves of steel.

You could also hire an architect or an interior designer, budget permitting. Again, make sure you have a contract that specifies fees and what will be handled by the designer. The more detail, the better. I didn’t use one, as I was myself trained as an architect. I regretted giving away my T-square years ago and made do with a ruler and a triangle. It was very useful to lay out the tiles the way I wanted them, as well as the bathrooms. The kitchen outfitters handled the kitchen drawings (with our input and exact measurements).

If you need names of companies we used, please reach out.

Photo of Place Garibaldi in Nice

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cindy petitprez design details

Want to Renovate or Build a Property in France? Start Here

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Note from the editor: Cindy Petitprez is an interior architect and decorator from the north of France, a place, she says, “where warmhearted people go hand in hand with beautiful landscapes.” Cindy contacted me with an interest in connecting with more American clients, as she would love to work with expats. She shared her work with me and I was blown away. Keep reading to discover her story and how to get in touch with her. — MS

Fifteen years ago, at twenty-five, I felt the urge to explore the world. Overnight, the decision was made — I was moving to New York. After a first experience as an exchange student in Atlanta, I wanted to dive in again, but this time on my own terms.

I found a room for rent in Brooklyn with roommates. I soaked up the New York vibe, explored every neighborhood, and felt amazed at every corner. I joined networking events because back then, I was dreaming of launching my own business. I met wonderful people. I fell for the simplicity and spontaneity of Americans — so easy-going, never overthinking it before talking to a stranger, complimenting someone on the subway about their outfit, wishing a passerby a great day in the street…

After that experience, I wanted to settle in the United States for good. Aside from my tiny chance at the green card lottery, I did not have many options. Unless I fell in love with a charming American… but that romantic quest turned out to be a total flop, even with my very dedicated detective work. Moving on!

Today, fifteen years later, I have unpacked my suitcases in the Pink City, Toulouse. I found my prince charming, but a French one. We have two wonderful children. We love our life here, with the mountains and the sea both within reach.

I became a freelance interior architect and decorator, a job I am truly passionate about. I mostly work with private clients, on projects ranging from renovations to new builds. I work all over the country.

My clients were 100% French until the day Chrissy and Michael contacted me from Texas — what a joy. They wanted to renovate their newly purchased apartment in Luchon, in the heart of the Pyrenees. I got started right away, and they were so enthusiastic. Michael would reply to my designs with “J’aime!!” So simple! No French person would ever answer “J’aime !!” In France, people tend to hold back.

Days went by, and Chrissy and Michael kept brightening them. On the morning of October 31st, my phone rang. It was Michael: “Happy Halloween Cindy!!” No one would have wished me a happy Halloween that day, but I was thrilled to receive that message. Michael had just made my day again.

Working with Americans is pure joy, and I’d love to do it more. Who’s in?

I am now looking to expand my services to expatriates who want to renovate or build property in France. I speak fluent English, which makes the process a lot easier. If you are American and you have a real estate project in France, I’d love to work with you. Let’s have fun while being serious!

I help you transform your new homes through a turnkey and highly personalized approach. My services include full renovation design, space planning, furniture and décor sourcing, bespoke joinery, and on-site coordination with trusted local artisans.

My aim is to offer expats a smooth and reassuring experience, helping you navigate French renovation standards, local suppliers and practical steps with clarity and comfort. The result is a refined and welcoming home that reflects your lifestyle! 

Discover my work as an interior designer in Toulouse and throughout France.

Cindy is reachable by email contact@cindypetitprez.com or through her Instagram account.

Photo of details of one of Cindy’s designs

Did you enjoy this article? TAIP is 100% reader-supported through tipping. If you want to leave us a tip of any amount it would be highly appreciated.  These tips help support our efforts to keep TAIP an ad-free environment. Just like at a cafe, the tips are split evenly among the team.

people walking in front of a restaurant at night in Paris

Paris is Still Just a City

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In my final year at university, amidst the chaos of final exams, graduation, and a future being all mine for choosing, moving to Paris was all I could really think about. I didn’t care about making a name for myself or carving out a place in the land of interns, waiting eagerly to climb the corporate ladder. All I cared about was getting out of Texas, seeing something new.

I dreamt of the days I studied abroad here, drinking absurdly cheap wine, eating fresh pastries, discounts at the cinema, free entries to museums. I dreamt of a life Paris had afforded me when I was younger. One that was reckless, one where I had no responsibility besides to fall in love with the city, new friends, even a cute boy. 

When I graduated, I remember the world seeming so big, and I felt so lucky to have all these possibilities laid out in front of me. I had a degree now, even though I could hardly remember how I got it, and I naively believed that things would continue just as smoothly for me as they had been, given my life thus far. So, I took the leap, did the big, courageous thing it was for a well-off girl like me to do, and I made the big move to Europe. 

I emerged from the metro at Place d’Italie on a busy Sunday afternoon, with a suitcase in my hand, and an overstuffed backpack hanging from my shoulders. Police sirens rushed past, pedestrians made way for themselves regardless of others, and there stood directly in my line of vision, a big, metallic, soulless shopping mall that was the point of reference for my new neighborhood. Some residents have the Eiffel Tower. I had Italie Deux. 

I looked down at my jean shorts and sneakers, then up at the Parisians sporting black slacks and light summer jackets. An elderly lady came up to me, asking for directions. For a while, I tried to help. I looked at where she wanted to go on my phone and attempted to explain directions in French. She appeared frustrated, not being able to understand me, and gave a look like I was wasting her time. She walked off and demanded the next stranger for help.

I was breathless after having dragged my suitcase up several flights of stairs to my new apartment. After having unlocked the door with my comically long skeleton key, I immediately sank to the wood-paneled floor. I sat there, looking up at the crown molding on the ceiling and felt completely happy. A wave of warmth rushed over me. This is what I wanted, I thought. Crown molding, how lucky am I? Sure, there was an unbelievable amount of dust and mold bordering the windows, and the previous tenants had left a bunch of clutter, but here I was finally in my new place in the city I’ve been dreaming about ever since I left.

Weeks passed and I put off essential errands that would make my life feel more real and viable here. I needed a bank account, a social security number, a phone number, WiFi. But I was scared. 

Hidden within my fear were my memories, and suddenly, they all came flooding back. My face felt hot. I suddenly remembered what I was so quick to forget: how humiliated I felt when I was studying here, trying to disguise my Americanness yet it was inescapable. How I was still incapable of mastering the language. How it felt like anxiety was always trailing me, hiding behind every corner ready to pop out and remind me that this was not my home, things work differently here, and they don’t really work for you. 

I broke out into a cold sweat. What was I doing? I came over signed to a nannying agency, meanwhile I had spent the majority of my life working with kids and after finally having a college degree, I was longing to do something else. What was I doing? I was wasting time while everybody was back home applying for jobs that they could actually get. 

My panic broke me. I applied to so many jobs and internships, all of which were hindered by the fact that I wasn’t yet bilingual, nor was I enrolled in higher education. I felt trapped. I felt trapped in this undeniably beautiful, bustling, and some might say, I know I sure did, magical city. 

I remember looking for signs to bring me back to America. A cop out. A scapegoat. I began applying to these outrageously prestigious Master’s programs in America whose acceptance rates were laughable and exclusively marketed for geniuses. I convinced myself into believing they were targeted at me. I told myself, if I get into one, then it’s destiny. Then I’m going home and never looking back. They need me. America needs me.

The advertisements that fluttered the walls in metro stations began speaking to me. Women and men, children and the elderly, all those whose faces were plastered on these posters, urged me, begged me to come back. “You’ll be safe there,” they teased. “Life will be easier. You’ll get a nice job, one that fulfills you.” I ran to catch the stalled train before the doors shut, wanting to give in but also not wanting to give up. Making that decision to move back home would feel like both.

The image I held in my head of my study abroad days no longer held up. The lights dwindled, the magic faded. Paris is beautiful, yes, but there’s a lot of dog poop smeared across the sidewalks. And cigarette butts. And trash. There’s almost no relief from the heat in the summer, so it’s best to get away, if you can afford it. People can be mean and creepy. All of these things are not just exclusive to American cities — they are caveats of every major metropolitan area, including Paris. 

It took me two years. Two years of indecisiveness, of failed dreams and miraculous resurrections, to realize that fighting to live in Paris is worth it. 

I can’t exactly say what the catalyst was to deciding that I was going to stay, that I’ll fight to carve out a life for myself here. Maybe it was the political climate in America, making my idealization of the country come to a screeching halt. Maybe it was the realization that nostalgia is often manipulating, a poison for the brain to make the past seem so alluring when that’s exactly what it’s meant to be: something that builds our story, but remains there, stuck. 

Maybe it was the realization that the job market is incredibly difficult everywhere right now. Maybe it was (it definitely was) that the cute boy and I started to become even more serious in wanting to integrate our lives with each other’s. 

It was probably all of those things that made me decide to stay, despite the hardships, despite the seeming impossibility of it all, despite the all-consuming nostalgia, and, at times, maddening cultural differences. I was overly confident two years ago, I have to admit. I thought I was ready to move my life abroad back then, but in fact it took me two years of living here to confirm exactly that. 

Paris has been a city that I hate(d), that I love(d), that I couldn’t/can’t seem to get over. Paris is still just a city, with all its flaws and glamour. But now, it’s my city.

Photo by Elric Pxl on Unsplash

Did you enjoy this article? TAIP is 100% reader-supported through tipping. If you want to leave us a tip of any amount it would be highly appreciated.  These tips help support our efforts to keep TAIP an ad-free environment. Just like at a cafe, the tips are split evenly among the team.

building in Dijon, France with hand painted mural

American Social Norms in France and Why They Don’t Always Translate

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As children, we aren’t always taught that what is considered polite to you isn’t necessarily what is polite to another. As an American (especially one from the Midwest), I was raised with a distinct fear of being seen as rude, so when I moved to France this fear followed. It blossomed even more a few months into my new expat life when I realized that much to my surprise, what I was doing to be polite often had the opposite effect.

I did everything I had been taught to make connections, but time and time again conversations ended in tight, awkward smiles and a distinct feeling that things had not gone well despite my efforts. 

I would smile when passing someone by, and if greeted I would say bonjour and try to start a conversation with small talk on the weather or work. If you have spent much time in France maybe you can already see how this eagerness caught locals by surprise and didn’t help assimilation into the French lifestyle. 

Of course, I had been warned about the culture shock and mistranslations, but the sinking realization that I could speak the language but not communicate was heavier than anticipated. So much of what I knew to be polite at home came across as disingenuous, even tedious to my French peers. 

To be completely without cultural misunderstanding is unrealistic, but maybe knowing these social faux pas can help save you a headache or two.

General Conversation and Personal Questions

While living abroad, I found work to be a topic of conversation less welcomed in France. 

In America, work can be seen as a synonym for passion, and asking someone what they do for work is similar to asking what they’re passionate about, but in France that line is less direct. I once heard someone remark, “The French work to live and Americans live to work.” It’s a stereotype that rings true in my experience. 

When I would meet someone, one of the first questions I would ask was what they do for work. To be fair, this question is not always considered impolite, but more than once I would receive a look of someone humoring a child who didn’t know they had done something rude.

It wasn’t until I asked a coworker that they explained in France work is work and passion is passion; not inherently separate but never synonymous. So when asked what one does for a living, the underlying implication isn’t what are you passionate about? and more so, what is your social standing? which (for anyone wondering) is not polite. 

Personal Boundaries and Small Talk

Small talk is considered the necessary evil of getting to know someone in America. We ask questions to build connection, putting in effort and interest, which for many is a show of goodwill. 

However, this form of goodwill didn’t translate and more than once I caught myself outstaying the welcome of French pleasantries. I knew to say bonjour when entering a building, but I mistook this as an invitation for conversation as well, as it had been back home.  

The French show goodwill much longer after getting to know someone than Americans typically do when building a connection. They’re not the type to share as much with strangers and lack the knee-jerk reaction that Americans have to filling silence. Don’t be afraid to let silence sit, and know that most French people build relationships slowly, not through a lot of small talk. 

Performance Cues and Active Listening

Have you ever wondered why Americans do so much active listening? It wasn’t until I was comparing culture shock notes with another American expat that she brought up a conversation she had recently had with her French coworker. 

He mentioned how often Americans smile, nod, and mhmm in conversation and how silly it made them look. It’s true, active listening isn’t done as much in France, and the theories as to why we do this vary from America’s history as a country of immigration to the ever-present “corporate communication” in our daily life. In France however, the bobblehead-ness of active listening more often than not gives Americans an overly earnest appearance.

While at lunch a French friend once remarked that when we first met I had been akin to “Bambi the little deer,” wide-eyed and unsure. He credited the change to my growing confidence, but largely this difference came after I learned to converse without the constant show of attention.

Still show interest, but know the French don’t have to be convinced that you are listening to them. Additionally, know that just because a French person isn’t doing the typical actions we correlate with listening doesn’t mean they aren’t engaged.

Material Expression and Gift Giving

Even after I had finally gotten past the growing pains of forming a cross-cultural relationship, I found my way of showing politeness still tripped me up in terms of appearing overly concerned with material things and gift-giving. 

As an American, it’s often assumed the nicer (and more expensive) the item the better the sentiment. We go out of our way with housewarming events and holidays to show affection through gifts. In France however, the line between good taste and excessive wealth is much thinner. 

More than once I heard someone describe a neighbor or peer as boastful, and when asked why, they would mention something along the lines of how they only drink expensive bottles of wine, or post about fancy vacations and the expensive cars they drove.   

While gifts are still, of course, appreciated, there is more weight behind how much one might pay or “show off” in France. I once had a friend remark on the number of gifts I had given her. It was in an affectionate teasing way the French do when they like you, but it was also a reminder that something that felt so customary to me was not necessarily so for her. 

In all, it took me a while to really evaluate the type of politeness I was raised on and how Midwest manners might not mesh with the lifestyle and culture in France.

While what is polite does not always translate neatly, showing effort is at least a way to communicate that you mean well. When met with communication mishaps, that was one thing that could usually save me, and any expat will tell you all you can do is be patient and sincere in your efforts while living abroad.  

If you find yourself wanting to learn more about American vs French culture I highly recommend the book Cultural Misunderstandings: The French-American Experience by Raymonde Carroll. It’s a great resource and an interesting read filled with personal anecdotes by French anthropologist Carroll, who can possibly help explain why that interaction at the market ended so poorly.

Photo taken in Dijon, France

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Leather repair shop Atelier Nicolet

A Guide to Female Artisans and Business Owners in Nice

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When you move to a new town, you need to start from scratch to find businesses. 

For grocery shopping, if you’re lucky, there will be a nearby supermarket, but other businesses may be further away from home.

Having moved to Nice, at one point I needed a shoemaker, and entered a small shop I found in the Old City. I was surprised to find a female shoemaker; until now, all my shoemakers were male, and in the US, they are often of foreign origin. 

Below are some of my preferred female artisans and women-owned businesses in Nice that I recommend to anyone visiting (or living!) there.

Cordonnerie Atelier Nicolet

Ms. Nicolet always liked working with her hands, but attended university and obtained a degree in literature. However, after attending an event about the bottier (shoemaker in the sense of making shoes) profession, she signed up. In 2008, women were accepted into at least this area of the Compagnonnage du Devoir (craftspeople guild). She found an apprenticeship in Nice, where for two years she alternated between 6 weeks of work in Nice and 2 weeks of training in Paris. After finishing her apprenticeship, she was hired by a Paris-based shoemaker in the Bastille area (which is close to the traditionally artisanal neighborhood of the Faubourg St. Antoine), where she worked for four years.

In the meantime, her partner had been sent to work in Montpellier, and she went to join him, working for another shoe repair company. They both returned to Nice after another four years. However, in Nice, there were few jobs, so she decided to open her own shop in the Old Town, where she was raised, six years ago. Having grown up there, she loves the fact that it is a true neighborhood, even though it is now changing with ever more temporary rentals for tourists. 

She sells a few of her own creations, but she likes doing repairs the most, as every project is a new adventure. Many shoemakers refuse to do some repairs, such as zippers.

Later, after renovating an apartment, it was time to hang art on the walls. I had removed many items from their frames to ship them. An online search for picture framers led me first to one that didn’t exist, so I kept on walking (you can walk to many places in Nice, it’s not an enormous city!) and entered the next shop I found that seemed attractive. Once again, I was welcomed by a woman. 

Ateliers Marianne Strauch

Ms. Strauch herself runs the atelier, and she did her best to offer advice for the painting I brought in, using an old-fashioned wood frame I purchased at the flea market. She was very thorough in explaining the process, and I was curious as to how she came to this particular profession.

She was raised in Nice; her parents were photographers; her father also taught photography. They were not enthused by their daughter’s love for handicrafts. Marianne would spend time at the local ébénisterie (high-end woodworking, from the word ébène, ebony) but to please her parents, she attended college to obtain a BA in history.

However, she didn’t enjoy the notion of continuing to an advanced degree, and set off to tour French workshops around the country, specializing in gold leaf technique, to become an apprentice. Everywhere she was told that she was too old (at 20… usually apprentices start at the age of 13) and that, anyway, she was a woman. 

She came back to the Nice woodworking shop, whose owners knew her well by then. She worked there for a while, but what she really wanted to do was leaf gilding. She was finally able to start training (after sweeping the floors for 6 months) at a Monaco multi-technique establishment which served the Palace. She had to sign a pledge, somewhat like a compagnonnage.

She went on to work overseas in Greek Orthodox monasteries in Greece, Turkey, Egypt, and Russia, in leaf gilding, for several years, then returned to France to work on church furniture in the Ardèche region. There she met her future husband, with whom she had three daughters. When the marriage fell apart, she returned to Nice. 11 years ago, she opened the current shop on Rue Beaumont. Her clients come from all over the region and from all walks of life. One day perhaps… she’ll return to the monasteries!

In more traditionally female-run businesses, I found a wonderful consignment shop in the Riquier neighborhood (east Nice). Old Town is chock full of secondhand shops, but I rarely find anything useful for my needs there. 

Au Fil du Temps

Or, “as time goes by” is run by Melissa. The first thing I noticed was how carefully curated the shop is. Nothing is random. 

Having been raised by a creative mother, Melissa started out with a technical degree in the clothing industry. She spent a short time studying law, but left to work for the lingerie company Etam, where she climbed the ladder to become a store manager. She remained at Etam for 13 years.

She’s always loved the thrill of thrifting when she was younger. After analyzing the secondhand clothing environment, she decided against an Old Town location, as the customer base would be more transient (for those who don’t know Nice, Old Town is a big tourist attraction, along with the seashore boulevard, the famous Promenade des Anglais). She wanted a neighborhood shop, where customers would shop regularly. Tourists who come to the shop find her through online searches.

She’s now run the shop for 17 years. Her goal is not to grow exponentially, but to continue to be able to take care of her business on her own, especially as then she’d need to move. 

Au Fil du Temps is for the women who want good brands, who want to look good, without breaking the bank, while helping the planet by shopping secondhand. 

The Notion of Sustainability

After interviewing these three remarkable women, I realized that all three of them in some way work towards a more sustainable planet: through repairing shoes and bags, instead of discarding them; through reusing materials to make new frames; and, of course, through selling secondhand clothing.

What was also interesting was that all three were raised in Nice, and even if they left at some point, they returned to their hometown. 

My erroneous assumption was that the craftspeople would have inherited their shop from a father or a grandfather; it’s quite the contrary when it comes to women!

Photo of the leather repair shop Atelier Nicolet

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Building in Nice on Mont Boron: probably Villa Marie Leocadie

Moving to France as a Retiree: The Journey (Part 2)

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In Part 1, I described how I applied for a long-stay visa to France as an American retiree, without any EU citizenship or job.

I hadn’t mentioned two items in the visa application process:

  • You will be asked to write and sign a letter promising not to work in France.
  • You need to prove an income of at least the French minimum wage. I provided my pension 1099s, and the Embassy requested a few months of bank account statements to boot.

As you may have already read in the TAIP blog, receiving some work-related income in the US is frowned upon by the French tax authorities. France and the US have a tax agreement and last year I did not have to pay any income tax in France (I had already paid in the US).

Settling Down

With a few months’ respite until the next round of residence applications, it was time to figure out where to live on a long-term basis.

The first few weeks, I was in a series of home exchange apartments in several neighborhoods. I moved on to an Airbnb, then to a studio rented previously from friends of a friend, while looking for a longer-term rental. In Nice, my chosen city, it was just the wrong time: students were moving out of their nine-month rentals, and the apartments were being quickly rented out for the tourist season.

I paid a fee to a rental agency: money down the drain. I went to see a longer-term rental, but there was no kitchen equipment (often the case in some European countries), and I didn’t want to buy an oven and a refrigerator for just a few months, for an apartment I didn’t even like. Finally, the decision was made to buy an apartment, as my partner and I were going to stay in Nice anyway. We found by sheer good luck a wonderful realtor who patiently took us to a variety of places in our chosen neighborhoods (close to public transportation but not too close to tourist and second-home areas) until we found a place that checked many boxes.

Another warning: do your homework about the different ways to own property. In France, a notaire (notary) handles many legal issues that in the US would be handled by an attorney. Ours did not lay out the options for us.

Applying for a Carte de Séjour (Residence Card)

Two months before my visa expired, I went online on the immigration website — the same one where I validated my visa. Now I was in the system, but the site wouldn’t accept my password, and I made the terrible mistake of (in desperation) using my email as a user name. That took me down a rabbit hole, and I found out two months later that I had applied for refugee status! Warning: only log in with the numéro d’étranger!

The login area is on the upper right-hand side. Once you’re “in” you’ll see your history. I was asked for a list of documents, including an e-photo (there are specialized photography studios that will take your photo and provide you with a number.) When you enter the number, your photo pops up. That is a really nice digital feature.

Unfortunately, not everything is as polished. As it turns out, it is almost impossible to ask a question. There is a question area, but it feels like a bot is answering. If you attach the wrong item, you wait about a month before being able to modify it. If you try going to the Préfecture (regional administrative headquarters) without an appointment, you’ll stand in line for 2 hours for nothing, as they instruct you to go online. 15 months went by before I received my residence approval. In the meantime, sometimes I’d get a three-month document to prove that I was allowed to be on French territory. It was nerve-wracking every time I needed to travel outside the EU.

Things may go faster in other regions, where there are fewer foreigners. Southern France apparently is notorious for delays, even for other immigration matters.
There are consultants, but in my humble opinion, I am not convinced they can help things go faster. If you don’t speak/understand French, though, it may be worth it to get precise information. Avoid paying anyone you don’t know large amounts of money.

At the end, the system worked. Next year, I’ll start over for the next carte de séjour! I hope it will be easier, but immigration laws may change and I can’t take anything for granted.

Photo of a building in Nice on Mont Boron

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two large dogs in front of a river

The Ins and Outs of Moving to France with Your Dogs

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As my husband and I started sharing the exciting news about our upcoming move to France with our friends and family, many asked, “Are you bringing your dogs?” I was flabbergasted to think that anyone would consider leaving their pets due to a move, but politely replied, “Of course, we could never leave our dogs.” I completely understand the responsibility that comes with owning a pet, and if they can’t move, we can’t either. And thus, the process began. 

Starting our Research

I’ll quickly admit that we weren’t familiar with the process of moving, or even air travel, with our dogs before we committed to moving to France. They have been on many road trips, but they have never been on an airplane. For a bit of background, we have two friendly dogs, Cleo and Maisie. They are both five years old and weigh 70-80 lbs (32-36 kg). 

Before you move any dog to France, there are some restrictions to be aware of: 

  • Dogs must be over 15 weeks of age at the time of entry to France
  • There are multiple dog breeds that are banned in France including: Staffordshire terrier (pitbull), Mastiff, and Tosa 
  • The French may refuse entry if your dog resembles one of the banned breeds if they are a mixed breed 
  • There is a maximum of five dogs per person under the “non-commercial” classification 

There are three basic requirements for anyone traveling with their dogs to France: they must have a registered microchip, an up-to-date Rabies vaccination, and an EU pet health certificate. Additionally, an I-CAD registration is required for any dogs that will be residing in France for more than three months. 

The best place to begin is by making an appointment with your veterinarian in America. During this visit it is important to confirm that your dog has a registered microchip and is up to date on their vaccinations. The microchip must be implanted before the dog receives the rabies shot. You can NOT wait until your final veterinarian appointment for your dog to receive the rabies vaccination as a 21-day waiting period is required before arriving in France. I would also recommend that you ask your veterinarian if they believe your dog will be successful on such a move and confirm that they are an USDA-accredited vet comfortable with completing EU health certifications. 

How Will You Be Traveling to France?

There are two options: boat + car travel, or air travel. It is possible to travel to France from the US via the Queen Mary 2 ship. The Queen Mary 2 departs from New York and arrives in Southampton, England. This is the much longer option as the transatlantic journey takes seven nights and then an additional day to drive to France. However, this is a viable option for pet owners who have dogs that are not suitable for air travel. This primarily applies to snub-nosed (brachycephalic) breeds that can not safely fly. Of note, this option is typically fully reserved a few years in advance so it is best to reach out to Cunard Cruises to inquire as soon as possible if you are interested. 

We decided to go the air travel route. We chose to fly with our dogs because they are both healthy, and the travel time is so much shorter. Dogs can either travel in the cabin or in the cargo section under the airplane. Unfortunately, only dogs under 15-20 lbs (7-9 kg) (variable according to specific airline) have the opportunity to fly in the cabin. There are of course exceptions for service animals. 

Our dogs are both much heavier and need to fly in the cargo. I was very apprehensive of this at first because I had heard horror stories about dogs flying cargo, but as I started to research, I learned that it is actually very safe. I would recommend looking into specific airline policies regarding pets in cargo before booking tickets. We did exactly that and decided to book our tickets through Lufthansa with a layover in Frankfurt. Lufthansa is known to be one of the best airlines for transporting pets and has a designated dog center in the animal lounge in Frankfurt. I booked my husband’s and my tickets first and then called Lufthansa to have both our dogs added to the flight. I recommend that you call them immediately after booking your flights, as they only allow a certain number of animals on each one.

Another Visit to the Vet 

The flights were officially booked, and we knew exactly when we would be arriving in France. The next step was to call the veterinarian and make an appointment for an EU health certification. This appointment MUST be done within ten days of your departure to France. The process requires your vet to fill out the EU pet health certificate and send it to the USDA for endorsement. The USDA will then mail the endorsed health certificate back to you. Therefore, you can NOT make your final appointment the day before you leave America. I would recommend that you discuss the timeline with your veterinarian and make your appointment according to their recommendation (provided that your vet has experience with this process). This is a very important document that will need to be presented at customs when you arrive in France. 

Arrival in France

Bienvenue! If you plan on staying longer than three months, you will need to take your dogs to a French veterinarian for I-CAD (Identification des Carnivores Domestiques) Registration. This is a requirement for all resident dogs in France; it is an official pet registry that can be used if your pet is stolen or gets lost. It is also recommended that you request an EU pet passport during this appointment to allow for easier travel with your pets while in Europe. 

This process may seem daunting, but I promise it will be worth it to enjoy that first croissant outside an authentic French cafe with your sweet dogs at your feet. 

Photo of our dogs Cleo and Maisie

Did you enjoy this article? TAIP is 100% reader-supported through tipping. If you want to leave us a tip of any amount it would be highly appreciated. These tips help support our efforts to keep TAIP an ad-free environment. Just as at a cafe, the tips are split evenly among the team.