living in France

people walking past paintings in the Louvre, Paris

You Have to Make Your Life

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Having to stand up for myself in a country where I’m trying to establish the rest of my life has been no easy feat. 

A thin layer of perspiration has formed and now permanently coats my face simply because I’m trying to work up the nerve to ask a follow-up question. 

Standing up for myself takes everything out of me. It takes all my guts. 

And yet, I still decide to get up every morning and do it again. And again. And again. 

When I’m lying on my bed at night, thinking about what little ground I’ve covered, yet how much energy I’ve used to defend my honor, I’m struck, asking myself the question: When does one learn to do this? When does one learn how to stand up for themselves? Because I think I might’ve missed the memo.

As children, it’s our parents’ job to be our biggest advocate. Defend our rights. Speak to our needs.

During adolescence, we often wade in a state of constant humiliation, so much so that it feels like we’re drowning in it. We’re barely hanging on. Dogging-paddling to stay afloat. We couldn’t care less about fighting for our rights, what we deserve, we’re living day-by-day and our friends are our safety floats.

Then one day we wake up and come to the jarring realization that we’re the adults now. It seems as if we’ve just been living as passerbys to our own lives until suddenly we’re thrown into the wild, taught to fight it out, and see if we come out alive. 

In adulthood we’re confronted with the desire to carve out a life of our own. And if you want to do that — to make your own life — it means getting used to confrontation and passive-aggressive responses and learning to be your biggest protector. 

When I moved to Paris in my early twenties, my question changed in accordance with my new context. Having to deal with bureaucracy, confrontations on the street, and landlords all in a foreign language on a foreign land, I wondered, “But who stands up for us?” I felt that someone should. 

Sticking up for myself within a new identity became an even bigger challenge, yet increasingly vital. 

Initially, I relied on handling administrative tasks in a group effort, surrounded by my closest expat friends. This way, if we worked together, chainlinked our arms around one another’s, no one could take us down. 

One thing led to another and the group eventually did collapse. 

Someone would ask for a raincheck the day we planned to meet up and check things off our to-do lists, so we’d take it as a sign to put our tasks off for another week. Another would fill our souls with hope by promising to look into something for the group and relay their findings. In the end, they’d never get around to it.

Relying on others to help cushion the embarrassment by being there with you when you fall from grace is undeniably nice, but it also tends to be a huge waste of time.

I even tried relying on my boyfriend for this sort of support, telling myself that once he got home from work he would sit by my side and help me as I called CAF. When he would come home, we’d make dinner while listening to music or turn on the TV in the guise of just wanting to watch the news for a few minutes, then like magic, a movie would switch on and we’d get sucked in. 

We always told each other tomorrow. Tomorrow is when we’ll spend countless hours on hold together. 

The thing is, time moves slowly when you’re always waiting on others. 

I watched as people made their own lives around me. Big things were happening to people. Law school. Jobs in fields that nourished them and some that even paid them well. Marriage. An evolving social status.

It felt like nothing was happening to me. People were moving around me, things were moving around me, but I wasn’t. I was stuck in the middle of a whirlwind. 

I was with one of my expat friends at the Musée de l’Orangerie, wandering around the Berthe Weill exhibit and reading about her legacy and the kind of life she led in Paris. I remember feeling low at the time. Bad news kept toppling onto my lap. Yet again, I was passing nights lying on my bed, questioning everything. The central one being: why am I here? Every bright light at the end of the tunnel seemed to be misleading. Caveats adorned everything I pursued, ultimately preventing me from simply living in the city where I wished to be. I couldn’t feel any relief. But then I saw this quote plastered above some of Weill’s collection and a smile couldn’t help but creep upon my face. My stomach felt warm. My giddiness started to rise. 

“I started out with just 50 francs in hand and went into debt to pay the costs involved in opening a shop. Obviously, the situation wasn’t ideal, but I couldn’t back out now. Besides, what was the worst that could happen? Not being able to hang on? I WILL HANG ON!” – Berthe Weill

Be brave. Do the thing. Bear the challenge. If anything, it won’t wear you down; you’ll wear it.

In the end, I sucked it up. I put on my big girl pants, and I learned how to fight for my life and how to find pride in saying that I made it my own. Learning to stick up for yourself in a “ce n’est pas possible” culture is not my kind of fun. In fact, I used to take offense to it. With nearly every interaction, I have to fight for what I want. As an American, having arguments, even little ones, doesn’t just brush off my back. I don’t call that an interaction. I call that a dispute, and it makes me feel icky. They stick with me. I feel ashamed, or if I’m lucky, I learn to think of the other person as evil. 

Here, it’s almost like a game. Oh, you want something? You’re gonna have to beg me for it. 

I now treat it as such. Once I crack the code and win the game, receiving what is rightfully mine, I become overjoyed. It’s made the reward feel even better. It’s turned it into a testament to my wit, my charm, my insatiable persistence. 

Still, I find it demanding to stick up for myself and fight for what is rightfully mine, but I’m happy to say that I try to take it less seriously these days. Laughing more about it helps. What do you mean it’s not possible to do something that is very clearly possible? 

In doing the hard work, I’ve felt a strange conglomeration of feelings: being absolutely on my own, yet feeling powerful because of it. I’ve learned, reluctantly, that I can’t wait and sit back and watch how my other expat friends have done it or wait till my French boyfriend can help me.

If I want things to happen for myself, I need to make them happen. And in the meantime, regardless of what will happen with my life, I WILL HANG ON!

Photo by Diogo Fagundes on Unsplash

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french outdoor market

Living in France on a Budget

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Note from the editor: Writer Susan Jordan is an American who has been living on her own in Europe since she left the US in 2012. She has lived in France since 2019 and is currently working on her 10-year card application. As a lawyer in the US, she was accustomed to dealing with government bureaucracies and paperwork, but getting accurate information in a foreign country can be overwhelming. She has survived so far and now shares her knowledge with the hopes of helping others. — MS

Where to Live

Americans moving to France, if they are in a position to pay cash, ideally should buy a home here. Since that is not an option for me, I have lived in four French rental apartments in four different departments. I’ve heard that buying a home is much easier than renting, which would not be surprising given my experience.

As a “candidate” for an apartment, one must submit a dossier before viewing a potential rental. This will usually include a document showing monthly income paid in France, three utility bills for the past three months showing a French address, tax returns, an employment contract, and identification (a passport will do). A family guarantor (and resident of France) would be helpful. Sometimes commercial guarantors are acceptable. Of course, buying a home requires substantial paperwork, too, but if you are a cash buyer with sufficient proof of income, the path to moving in should be easier. 

How to Get Around

If you are comfortable with public transportation, living without a car in France is possible. Choosing a city with tram systems is best as many areas of France are quite car-dependent. Bus lines vary a great deal in scope and reliability depending on the commercial operator. French trains have increased their fares since the pandemic and service on some lines has even been dropped. For that reason, I like ride-sharing, otherwise known as covoiturage. 

For intercity travel, blablacar works well if you are selective about the drivers you choose, following reviews and ratings carefully. Flexibility in terms of travel dates and destinations also is helpful when using blablacar. I have known some French people who simply rent a vehicle when they need to travel as a family. This eliminates some bureaucracy involved with car ownership, insurance coverage, as well as the necessity of finding parking near one’s home. Why pay to maintain a deteriorating asset like a car when it can be rented as needed? 

What to Eat and Drink

Food and drink are often less expensive and of higher quality than what is available at the typical US supermarket. Even villages in France have weekly or bi-weekly marchés offering fresh fruit and vegetables in the center of town. Large chain supermarkets like Lidl, Aldi, Leclerc, and Intermarche are usually located on the outer rims of cities, requiring a bus for access. Lidl and Aldi are the best bets for low-priced but generally good-quality products. Sometimes small appliances and clothing can be found at Lidl and Aldi if you don’t mind some searching. 

How and Where to Shop

For furniture and other items for the home, Ikea and other home decor stores can be found on the outskirts of most cities. Brocantes (secondhand shops) and some marchés have less expensive secondhand furniture, with more style options and better quality. Or, if your French is sufficient, you can deal with individuals selling on sites like leboncoin.com but be careful that whatever you buy is actually functional. I prefer payment on delivery rather than ahead of delivery, which can be risky. 

This brings me to one basic French shop with which I have had good consumer experiences. Monoprix has frequent sales beyond the normal  January and June sales and, for my money, the best customer service.  Returning products is just not a common function of most French stores. However, if you show a sales slip (and one time it worked for me without one),  Monoprix will give a cash return within 30 days. Leclerc may give store credit within two weeks with a receipt but this is not a consistent practice across all Leclerc stores. They operate individually, despite the common ownership, so items must be returned only to the store where purchased. The concept of easy cash returns, so familiar to American consumers, has not crossed the Atlantic! 

Living in France on Minimum Wage

Although it’s no doubt more fun and less stressful to live in France with loads of disposable income, it is possible to live on SMIC (salaire minimum de croissance). At the time of writing, SMIC is 1500 euros per month, subject to change when the French budget is passed. If you are of a certain age, discounts can be found for train travel (30%) but not the cinema, oddly. If you have a carte vitale and are lucky enough to not live in a medical desert (at present, unfortunately, I do), most medical costs are covered, except dental and vision.

I am always looking for inexpensive solutions for day-to-day living in France. I will pass on tips as I find them, though that can be as quixotic as an untrained pig hunting for truffles. 

Photo by Jade Marchand 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 as at a cafe, the tips are split evenly among the team.