One year ago today I stepped off a plane from NYC into my new life in Paris. Have I landed where I thought I would? Not exactly — I’m not as far along as I would like to be in some areas, but in others I’ve outdone even my admittedly overblown expectations.

It’s been un minute since the last Paris Dispatch. The truth is once everything ceases to be new, the day-to-day minutia of life is less exhilarating than when you first arrive and even going to the grocery store feels like an adventure. And adjusting to that is part of the process too.

But last night was one of those evenings that makes all the difficult aspects of starting a new life in Paris more than worth it. My husband surprised me with a boat tour on the Seine organized by Château de Pommard, a beautiful winery in Burgundy that we had visited with friends last July.

Château de Pommard set up the event to celebrate the release of its 2014-2015 wines, and I took a moment while cruising past the most iconic sights of Paris to toast my husband and myself for all the hard work put in over the last year.

I think back to when I used to not recognize any streets or metro stations, know where to buy groceries, have any friends of my own, was scared to ride a bike in the city, thought I’d never be able to get a job. It almost feels like I was a different person on June 6th, 2017.

This past year I celebrated my first birthday as a Paris resident. I paid taxes in two countries. I overcame difficult situations at work, with friends, in my marriage, with myself, with Paris. I didn’t succeed in everything I wanted to, but I’ve come a long way. And I have earned a little wisdom I’d like to share.

10 Lessons learned from year one in France

1. Learning French is not a passive activity. People who tell you you’ll pick up French so much by just living around it are wrong. You will a little, but real learning requires putting in the work, conjugating those verbs, making WordReference your best friend and setting up time to use French in the real world beyond buying baguettes. I’m lucky to have a French husband with a social life that forces me into dinners, conferences, and other events. If you don’t you will have to be more proactive. There are so many Americans here who only hang out with English speakers and go to English events. I don’t blame them, it is uncomfortable to feel over your head in French, but being cozy in an English environment won’t help you improve your language skills.
2. It’s okay to change your plan, your idea of success, and even yourself to adapt to France. The goals you set out when you arrive won’t all happen. You may have to revise your idea of what kind of job you will take, the language milestones you had planned, or your tastes and even personality may change to fit into the new culture you’re a part of. That’s all okay.
3. Be kind to yourself. Especially early on, I was very hard on myself and told myself I didn’t “deserve treats” until my language skills improved, or I found a full-time job, or any other number of goals I set for myself. But I soon learned that being that hard on yourself only harms your progress. Take that girls trip in another country, take a full day to give your brain a vacation from French, go to Starbucks and get that giant pumpkin-spiced latte if you miss it. This shit is hard, you deserve treats.
4. It’s more than just the language. Adjusting to French culture and connecting with people is harder than overcoming language skills. You’ll find that the way you broke the ice with people in America doesn’t work here. That people don’t respond the way you expect in conversations. That your normal office behavior doesn’t fit in. This can be disorienting and frustrating, but is something only trial and error can correct.
5. Don’t be ashamed of who you are. Early on I was often embarrassed of my English and being American. Not because I think there is anything wrong with America, but because I felt like an interloper and French people were going to be upset by my very existence in their country. But even here in Paris where people are considered less friendly than in the rest of France (something I dispute), I have had very few incidents where people got upset or irritated by my language skills.
6. Expect more visitors than you think. Americans are already the number one nationality to visit Paris, and now that you live here, there is even more of a reason to come visit.
7. Expat depression is a real thing. It is okay if the life you imagined as a fairy tale in reality has you sobbing uncontrollably on a semi-regular basis. We’ve all been there. Here are some tips to help.
8. It’s okay to go home and savor it. You’re not cheating on France if you go back to the U.S. and go full American. I appreciated Thanksgiving so much this past year as an opportunity to relish the American activities I missed — stuffing myself silly with pumpkin pie and narrating every minute of the Macy’s parade was even sweeter than ever.
9. Making friends is more exhausting than you think. You will tell your story a million times. You will go on a ton of “friend first dates” that don’t pan out. People you thought you connected with won’t return your emails. It is a difficult process, but try to put yourself out there as much as possible for the first six months. Then take a step back and try to just focus on cultivating a couple of friendships you think could become meaningful.
10. Moments of magic happen — if you make them. If you are sitting in your apartment waiting for Paris to show you how lively and wonderful it can be, sorry it’s never going to happen. You don’t have to spend a million dollars or have a ton of connections. Some of my most “magical” Paris moments have occurred while just walking home when the sunset lights up the sky and I realize how goshdarn beautiful this city is. But you have to get out there and go to events, make plans, meet people and take advantage of what is here to make your own magic.

As challenging as the first year was, I’ve been warned the second can be even more so. Without the shimmery distraction of everything being new all the time, the reality of true integration and adjustment can be painful to manage. But looking back on the trials and triumphs of the past 365 days, I know that I can endure more than I thought to get to the best stuff.

So here’s to year two, starting today.

Until next time mes amis, xoxo

Au Revoir 2017

At midnight, I also said goodbye to a year full of great adventures and perhaps greater challenges. 2017 was when this blog was born, the year I truly committed to speaking and understanding French (though I have a long way to go), and a year of big personal and professional changes. Not everything was pretty.

I write a lot on this blog about the adventurous and exciting aspects of moving to and living in Paris, but it has been difficult as well — and perhaps I don’t share that enough.

Everything I did this year was exponentially harder because I did it here. Moving to a new city is stressful enough, so imagine to a different continent. Building a new life is a challenge anywhere, now add doing it in an unfamiliar language. Starting a new job is a lot of pressure, but wait until you try it in a different culture you don’t always fit into.

Sometimes I think I am never going to feel at home in this city and cry for an hour. Sometimes I give up and zone out at dinners when I just can’t make my brain understand French anymore. Sometimes I come home from work and replay my mistakes over and over again in my head. This isn’t the glamorous part of moving to Paris, but it is just as much a part of it as the beautiful sunset walks and wine on the cafe terraces. Moving to Paris is not a one-way ticket to a charmed life.

Many of us, including myself, make the mistake of aiming for perfection in life. This is very hard to square with a huge life event like moving to another country. When the bar is set at perfect you are only setting yourself up for failure. If you are looking for a reason to feel like you aren’t enough or don’t belong or will never make it, of course you will find it because that is all you are searching for.

So the goal should be that the good moments outweigh the tough ones. That you don’t make the same mistakes over and over again. That you move closer to the goals you set, even if it isn’t always a straight route there. Failure happens, so stop berating yourself about it, put on your big girl pants and move forward.

This is what I’m trying to bring into 2018 for myself. To enjoy the process more and obsess over the mistakes less. To be proud of how far I have come and not beat myself up over not being even farther. To accept the beautiful mess that starting a new life can be, and realize that the opportunity to start anew is a gift.

French Wins + Losses, 2017 Edition

I’d like to use this month’s Wins + Losses to reflect on what I see as the big win and loss of my 2017 in Paris.

Win: The new friends in my life

Making friends as an adult isn’t easy. My life now isn’t anything like when I moved to NYC at 20 years old and was out most every night meeting new people constantly. But through a mix of old friends making connections, attending meet-ups of various types and generally putting myself out there I’ve managed to already find smart, funny and kind women I call friends in this unfamiliar city. Women who have shown me places in Paris I never would have found on my own, hosted wonderful parties and been quick with advice for my various newbie-in-Paris challenges.

I’ve been lucky, but it also does take a concerted effort to be open to new people. So to the expats moving to Paris everyday– my advice is to say hi to that person at your spin class, strike up a conversation with the stranger seated next to you at an event, get your butt up and go meet your friend’s cousin. They may be the next best thing to happen to you in Paris!

Loss: My French not progressing as I would hope

I had a lot of misconceptions about how quickly I would settle into my new life. But I was sure that by living in France, going to intensive school at the start and spending time with my French family I would be on a fast track to French fluency. Well, over seven months into this move, I can say I was definitely wrong.

My French remains intermediate, surprisingly I don’t use French all that much in my daily life, and now that I am working it is harder to motivate myself to study a lot each day. I understand French better than I speak it still. It’s a point of frustration, but one that lies squarely on my shoulders. Anyone with tips on what worked for you to progress from intermediate (B-level) to advanced (C-level), I would appreciate your advice.

The birth of the blog

Writing more and starting this blog had been a long time goal of mine. Every year I participate in the online time capsule 10Q and it had appeared in my notes for multiple years. Now, writing a blog based on living in Paris requires actually living in Paris, so it wasn’t until 2017 I was able to make it happen. But I already had a lot of ideas in mind.

I didn’t always have a name though. The original name for the blog was “Paris Brunette” — which I was talked out of after I crowd-sourced some feedback from a group of girlfriends. Too feminine, not a great idea to name your blog after a physical characteristic, doesn’t relay personality. Other names I considered were “Madame Marais” which in the end I decided sounded too much like I was running a brothel, and “Paris in Translation” which I liked but my sister told me was boring. In the end I went with “Am I French Yet?” because I found myself using the phrase in my initial months of trying to fit in here in Paris.

It’s been super rewarding to hear from readers saying this blog helped them during their own immigration process or taught them something about French culture, or even just made them laugh. It’s more work than you would think, and I’m nowhere near French yet, but it’s been a wonderful personal project and goal to fulfill.

Bonjour 2018

2018 will be my first full year living in France (as long as everything goes as planned). The year I truly become an expat and start paying taxes to two countries — pretty sure that’s when it becomes real.

So far things are off to a bit of a rocky start. The grey weather, putting a lot of pressure on myself, the feeling that life isn’t moving forward fast enough (I’m very impatient), the tumultuous political situation back in my home country — all of these things contribute to an overall icky feeling.

But being the optimistic American that I am, on January 1st I took some time to lay out my hopes and goals for the year. Yes, resolutions are cliche and arbitrary, but I like them anyway. In the spirit of putting things out there to increase the likelihood they happen, here are mine for this year:

• Read more books (this is always on the list)
• Improve my French — go to my classes, dedicate myself to self study
• Keep up the blog: start a newsletter, improve my writing and photography
• Explore more of Paris
• Professionally do work I am proud of and have a good attitude
• Continue to take care of myself mentally
• Pitch my writing to bigger outlets
• Adopt a Shiba Inu
• Move into a bigger apartment (so I can host guests nicely)
• Do a better job of planning events, holidays and dinners with friends

Moving to Paris and starting this blog was my big challenge last year, and it felt great to check that box. Hoping with hard work and a little luck I can make most of these resolutions happen this year as well.

Wishing you all a charmed 2018. Until next time mes amis, xoxo

NEW: Am I French Yet? is now also a Newsletter you can subscribe to for bi-weekly postcards from Paris sent to your inbox!

<—-Paris Dispatch #5: Between Two Worlds

Six months in, my Paris life is becoming more complete and I am reconciling that my life in America doesn’t — and may never again — exist in the same way. And that’s okay.

Return to America

I was nervous to go back for the first time. Would I feel sad? Would I regret leaving? I wanted to enjoy the trip, but not so much that I questioned whether Paris is the place for me right now. In the end it was melancholic.

New York is much more familiar to me than Paris, and I arguably still have a more established life of family, friends and professional connections in the city. There was even a bizarre moment when I clicked into autopilot in my old neighborhood and momentarily forget I had moved at all.

But as I walked the sidewalks so familiar from 12 years of life, I felt pulled between two worlds. My mind knew that I don’t belong there anymore, even if it is the place where I became who I am. I may not have quite established myself yet, but I am confident Paris is my future and New York City is now my past — as sad as that feels to say.

The nine days were over in a blink. A blur of old friends, favorite only-in-New-York spots, and eating until discomfort. My family rented a house north of NYC for Thanksgiving so we could have space to all be together instead of spread out across different apartments in the city.

America felt like an old, familiar friend you don’t have to put on any airs for, but who you may not completely relate with anymore. I could speak my own language in public, find hot apple cider to drink and the Christmas movies on TV weren’t dubbed. It was total comfort…but you know how I feel about the comfort zone. While I may not have felt the pull of regret that my life isn’t there anymore, I did cry seeing New York City disappear from the plane window.

Working Girl Once Again

Guys, somehow it happened. A French company gave me a job! It’s funny, the day after I posted my last Dispatch bitching about how long the job-hunting process was taking, France 24 called me back for a final interview later that week. I got an offer the same day as the interview, and started training the next week.

For those unfamiliar, France 24 is a news broadcaster based in Paris that has 24-hour channels in French, English, Arabic and Spanish. I’ll be anchoring, reporting and producing news reports (all in English).

After getting the offer, I was overcome with a feeling that the Paris move was now, truly real. I had an actual responsibility in France. I couldn’t just pack my suitcase and fly back as if the last five months were a big experiment. It felt both grounding and terrifying.

I am thrilled to be working again, and lucky to be able to continue in a field I love. It has also been a constant challenge to work in a newsroom where French is the default language. My work is in English, but all the journalists across the French, English and Arabic networks share the same space. This being France and all, most of the meetings, support teams, the cafeteria and other aspects operate in French. It is also endlessly entertaining to discover the cultural differences between American and French workplaces — foie gras and wine in the company cafeteria anyone? — and I’ll be writing more about that in another post.

I’m still training for a number of positions, and have been too nervous to share when I’m on air with everyone quite yet. But if you’d like to soon find out when I’m going to be anchoring, follow me on Twitter! You can watch France 24 online or some parts of America also have the network on cable.

French Wins and Losses

It’s time for another round of Wins and Losses — where I reveal my little victories and failures since the last Dispatch.

Win: Got myself a Navigo card

A Navigo card is like an unlimited NYC metro card that also works for all the commuter trains as well (Paris equivalents of the LIRR, NJ Transit, etc.). It is of course much more annoying to get because the French bureaucracy involves submitting an application and photo and waiting three weeks– but once you have it you are liberated from the Paris metro’s tiny little paper tickets and let me tell you it is great. I feel like a real Parisian now, and recommend getting one quickly after moving here.

Loss (for now): French vs. American Keyboards

It’s one of the things you don’t spend a lot of time thinking about when you’re packing to move abroad: computer keyboards aren’t the same in other countries. Which makes total sense when you actually think about why the English keyboard is laid out the way it is.

Before I started working I pretty much only typed on my personal laptop with an English layout. But once I started working at a French company, typing became a daily battle. Now I’m constantly swapping Q’s for A’s and typing commas when I want an M. Figuring out how to make an @ involved minutes of hunting and pecking before turning to Google. FYI: It’s “Alt Gr” (whatever that means) and “0.”

I failed to realize my fingers would have a language barrier to overcome just like my brain. They still need some time to adjust — and can anyone tell me what is that double S looking symbol on the lower right?!

Win: French a la Téléphone

What they say is true. There is no better way to learn how to do something than being forced to do so in the real world. Whenever I see the number for my work schedulers pop up on my phone, I immediately start panicking — oh merde I have to speak French on the phone. (Not seeing someone’s face makes it harder to understand them).

It may not always be pretty, but amazingly the person on the other line understands me, and there have been no major issues. I still freak out in my head, but I’m able to hold my own on the telephone in French and this is a major step forward that I only took because I was forced to.

Loss: Let me eat when I want!

One of my favorite things about living in NYC was around-the-clock availability of food. Pierogis at 3am? No problem. In Paris this is not the case at all. If you are hungry between “normal” lunch and dinner hours, tant pis pour toi (too bad for you). Cut to me at 4:30pm on a Tuesday running between four different Japanese restaurants before finding one that is actually serving food. In Paris you must adjust your schedule around societal norms, unlike NYC where the city is built for 24-hour access. I’m still trying to get my stomach to accept this.

Magical Christmas in Paris

While France may lack the autumn spirit we feel in America, once Christmas nears Paris explodes with cuteness. Paris is already a beautiful city but add twinkling lights, decorated trees and mulled wine and it is almost too much to handle.

I had been putting in a lot of hours at work and not getting out much, so on my most recent day off my husband and I decided to go hunting for Christmas spirit. We went to look at the window displays of the big department stores Galleries Lafayette and Printemps, walked around the Madeline area to see the city decor and ate a mini Bûche de Noël (French yule log Christmas cake) to get into the holiday mood. If you are in Paris around Christmastime, you must go see the tree at Galleries Lafayette in the cupola room, it truly is magical.

When Tragedy Hits Home

Last week, my family sadly learned that my parents’ home was engulfed and destroyed by the wildfires in California. They were out of town when it happened which means thankfully they are unharmed, but unfortunately they also weren’t there to save anything. All the family heirlooms and baby books are gone forever.

It is a terrible tragedy you never expect to happen to your family. It also made me more conscious of how far away I am. I could set up a GoFundMe page to raise money to help them, but I wasn’t able to be with them on the other side of the world. I understood when we moved here that it would be hard for me to be there for every birthday, new baby and wedding celebration, but this was the first event that made me feel the distance acutely.

I’ll be closing out 2017 in Paris, and what a year this was to reflect on. I wish you all Happy Holidays and Happy New Year! I’ll have the next Dispatch in 2018 and will do a retrospective on what I’ve learned in France so far.

Until next time mes amis, xoxo

NEW: Am I French Yet? now has a Facebook page you can follow for updates and fun articles about France!

<—-Paris Dispatch #4: The Waiting Game

Paris Dispatch #6: Bonne Année —>

How Long Can You Wait?

One of the things I love about French living has morphed into one of my biggest frustrations. The less hectic way of life was definitely a draw for us moving here — the way French people really enjoy living and value leisure and time off. It’s not all about work and counting down to your next vacation the way life in New York City could so often feel. This is all great until you encounter the job search process.

I naively thought finding a job in France would be similar to finding a job in New York. When I’m ready, I send out resumes, make some calls, do some interviews and I’ll be working in a month! Yes, I have language and networking issues I didn’t have in NYC, but nothing I can’t overcome, right? Well, I didn’t know about the French waiting game.

There isn’t the level of urgency here that even going to the bodega seems to have in New York. Is this a good thing? Usually. But not when you are waiting to hear back about your last interview. I’m already an impatient person and the waiting game here is killing me.

In France you have to give three months notice when you leave a job. And it is basically impossible to be fired once you are hired here because worker protections are very strong. So understandably companies in France are very careful about hiring. It isn’t abnormal to wait a MONTH to get an answer as to whether or not your interview process will continue. It isn’t abnormal for it to take six months or longer to land a position.

In hindsight, I wish I had started the job search process earlier. I took the summer to focus on school and getting to know my new home. It was wonderful, but if I had known about the French waiting game, I could have jump-started this process earlier and saved myself some frustration. So a word of advice to those following in my footsteps: Start job hunting ASAP. Ideally before you even get here.

French Wins and Losses

A lot of people seemed to like the “Wins and Losses” section in the last dispatch, so I’m bringing it back. Here are my victories and defeats over the past month:

Win: Securing my French national health insurance

I have a confession: I’m already hooked on socialism. After three months of residency, I was entitled to national French health coverage which pays for 70% of medical costs (and 100% of maternity and infant care). So I can get hit by a car and not go bankrupt, which is a lovely perk of European life. Thanks French government! (And my husband for doing most of the administrative leg work).

Loss: First French strike experience

Strikes are a way of life in France. That’s all fine and dandy until you’re stuck at an airport in Corsica indefinitely because air traffic controllers are pissed at proposed work policy reforms and decide to slow down the number of flights able to take off and land at Paris airports. I missed my first French class because I got home six hours late. The upside? Because it is so common in France, it is also a well-accepted excuse.

Win: Hosted my first French apéro

An apéro is a beloved French pre-dinner social gathering that doesn’t have a direct equivalent in America. It’s usually a handful of friends coming to someone’s place to enjoy conversation, drinks and snacks, and the offerings can range from just olives and a glass of wine to a full on cocktail party spread. An apéro is usually at the same time as happy hour, but don’t call it that (I made that mistake already).

I’ve been to plenty of apéros, and assisted in my husband planning ones, but decided I was ready to host my own. So I slapped on a beret (why not?) and set up an apéro for two of my girlfriends. I stressed a bit over choosing the food and wine, but in the end my husband’s only constrictive critique was that I should have bought more than one cheese (apparently cheese diversity is important). Despite the single cheese, the conversation lasted far beyond traditional apéro hours, so I’m calling it a success!

Loss: Making a haircut appointment that didn’t exist

As with my doctor appointments, I wanted to wait until I could go back to NYC to get a haircut. I didn’t feel comfortable enough with my French to navigate hair lingo yet. Mess that up and you live with it for a long time. But when I landed my first job interview, I knew I couldn’t show up with my hippie hair I’d grown over the summer. So I sucked it up, found a well-rated salon and made an appointment over the phone.

Lo and behold, I show up at the salon the evening before my interview and my reservation didn’t exist. I wasn’t even in the system. French fail. Thankfully, the great staff stayed late to accommodate me and my hair looked great, but it definitely stung that I wasn’t able to properly make an appointment this time.

Win: Getting into both French classes I wanted

In early October I had to take new placements tests to qualify for my B1 level language classes– one standard course and one oral workshop. I was sweating it, especially the oral tests. I had a lot of visitors in September, so I spent a lot of time speaking English. The Paris government classes are also competitive to place into because of the demand, and if I didn’t pass the tests I wouldn’t get a spot in the program at all.

But I had a new strategy. I’ve figured out that half of speaking French is your attitude. Even if what you’re saying isn’t perfect, if you act like you are confident and know what you’re doing, people feel like you’re better than you are. So I spoke my crappy French with the demeanor of a French movie star. I know I wasn’t perfect by a long shot, but my strategy seemed to work. I got into both my classes.

Loss: Forgetting my English

The more I fill my head with French, I feel like English is leaking out a little. The other day I couldn’t figure out how to spell February, the month of my birth. I find myself searching for words I never struggled to call to mind before. Apparently this is normal when studying a foreign language intensively, but it is very bizarre.

Breakthroughs with the French Language

I’m by no means fluent (if that is even a thing) in French yet, but particularly in the last month I’ve started to feel a real difference with my language progress. I can make it through entire evenings in French — understanding the majority of the conversation and even participating a bit with opinions and interjections.

My comprehension is still much better than my speaking skills, and I continue to feel dumb when I talk in French. But when I think back to five months ago when I had a lot of difficulty understanding people and was nervous going to the supermarket alone, I have to say am I damn proud of myself. I still have a lot of progress to go, and working in French is realistically a year or so away, but I never in my life thought I would speak a foreign language even at this level. So I’m not afraid to say I’m patting myself on the back.

Pumpkin Spiced Homesickness

French people don’t do Halloween and of course Thanksgiving is an American holiday, so the “autumn spirit” so ubiquitous in the U.S. isn’t a thing here. There are no mini pumpkins or hay bales scattered about shops or pumpkin spiced anything in the restaurants. My husband had never seen candy corn until I showed him a picture last month and he asked if it was a food or decoration. This made me disproportionately sad.

As October rolled around, I encountered my first case of longing for America. Wearing cozy sweaters, drinking apple cider, carving a jack-o-lantern, leaf peeping and apple picking are more than activities — it is an overall sentiment and a gateway into the Christmas season. I am missing this in France. Between back to school and Christmas is just regular life here. Over Thanksgiving I will have to make up for it by stuffing three months of fall coziness into one week.

In two weeks we will make our first return to America. I’m a little nervous. I want to enjoy the trip, but I don’t want to miss New York City too much. I’m not sure how it will feel to be back in my native country for the first time since adopting France as my new home. But I am also very thankful I get to spend Thanksgiving back with my family and friends, especially since Thanksgiving doesn’t exist in my new country. Will let you know how it goes in the next dispatch.

Until next time mes amis! xoxo

Follow me on Instagram at @charliannejames for daily stories on the funny, delicious and strange about life in France.

<—- Paris Dispatch #3: La Rentrée

Paris Dispatch #5: Between Two Worlds —>

My Own Personal “La Rentrée”

September 4th was “la rentrée” in France. “The return” officially marks French children going back to school, but has come to take on a much bigger cultural signification. Following the summer holidays, French people use September to reconnect with friends, jump start personal and work projects, refresh their homes and set goals. Here it may be an even bigger time for self improvement than New Years.

This was my first experience with la rentrée, but I quickly understood this French cultural phenomenon. The first week of September invitations for dinners and winter vacations started coming in, stores were advertising la rentrée specials, the number of diet and exercise ads on TV spiked and Paris had an overall buzz that was definitely missing during the sleepy months of summer.

I decided to seize this energy to jump start a freelance career here in Paris. I spent the summer in intensive French classes and giving myself time to learn more about my new home, but by the time we hit three months in France, I was definitely feeling the itch to get back to work. Seems I have zero chill.

So I’ve been setting up “les rendezvous” (sounds sexy but just means “meetings”), applying for more job opportunities, and pitching my writing to various websites. Pitching is essentially dating but professional, and sometimes just as soul crushing too. You send out emails with your article ideas to various editors at publications, and then wait and hope they like it and write you back. Most of the time you don’t get a response. It can be demoralizing, but it’s part of the process, and my “rentrée” to working life.

French Wins and Losses

It’s funny the little things you celebrate as huge gains when you move to a new country. And as long as it doesn’t lead to bodily harm or monetary ruin, eventually you can laugh at the losses too. Here are a few incidents that fall into these categories:

Win: Made a restaurant reservation on the phone in French. 
This was actually huge for me as I had a fear of not being able to see the face of the person I’m talking to in French since it makes understanding them much harder. (The real win will be if the reservation is there when I arrive at the restaurant hungry later this month.)

Loss: My first package ordered in French came to a “Monsieur James”
Obviously haven’t entirely figured out French online ordering forms yet.

Win: Published on a French website for the first time
The Local France found me (and this blog) through Twitter and asked me to do a guest post. A little gain! You can read it here.

Loss: Pedicures cost $65 here

Getting your nails done professionally is still considered a luxury in France and isn’t the cheap commodity it’s become in NYC. It makes me cringe to fork over this kind of cash for a pedicure after indulging in $25 pedicures for over a decade, but c’est la vie here in Paris.

Win: French people thinking I’m French

I’ve had French people stop me on the street and ask me for directions a few times. I love this because I must be fooling them into believing I’m 1) a Parisienne and 2) know what I’m doing, neither of which is true. Fake it ’til you make it ladies.

Loss: Crying on my French tutor’s couch

Gotta be honest. Getting lost, learning a new city and speaking like a kindergartner is much harder on your ego in your 30s than your 20s. After a particularly rough day of getting lost and struggling to express myself, I proceeded to burst into tears during the first session at my tutor’s apartment. So embarrassing. But after giving me water she continued on with the lesson like a professional as if I wasn’t blubbering. Merci Caroline. And thankfully, I had the nerve to return for the next session because I finally am starting to enjoy speaking a little.

Anyone who tells you learning a new language is all fun and games is lying. However I will tell you from experience, the gains feel even sweeter after fighting through the tears.

A cheese by any other name… would smell as stinky?

As any married woman in America knows, changing your name in the USA is a major pain in the ass. I didn’t do it. I chose to “keep” James as my last name for professional and personal reasons. I also didn’t like that your “old name” just disappears from your personal identifications as if it never existed.

However, in France my name is now also Charlianne Albert. I get mail from the government, the bank and my schools addressing a Madame Albert. At first when I saw this name printed on paper, it was like looking at a letter for another person. But let me explain why it doesn’t bother me here.

In France a woman has two last names after she gets married– her nom de jeune fille (“young lady’s name” meaning maiden name) and your nom d’usage (“name of use”) or nom de famille (“family name”).

For government purposes, your maiden name continues to be your official name. You will use that name when you go vote for example. On your passport and other official documents, both names will be printed, with your maiden name being the primary last name and your family name on another line. Your family name is there so you and your spouse and kids can use the same last name as you please, but you retain your original identification forever.

A French woman can choose to use either name on airplane tickets. She can use one name at her children’s school and another at work. She can use just one all the time if she prefers. I like this set up because it allows for more choice and flexibility than the American system which is very black and white and still a socially-charged decision.

In Paris, I have no issue being Charlianne Albert. I’m starting to feel like I have a new French identity, or maybe a secret American spy name. Plus it sounds very cute in French. I also know I can be Charlianne James whenever I feel like it too. No need to officially choose.

The gang’s all here

Maybe it’s this time of year and when winter comes around I’ll be lonely, but we’ve had so many friends in town coming for work or pleasure recently. Sometimes it feels like we never left NYC at all.

When American girlfriends visited for work last week, we went and had drinks at Ground Control. It’s an outdoor beer garden of sorts that looks straight out of Brooklyn, and for a moment I forgot I was in France at all.

Sitting at a cafe in Saint Germain with my sister this week and watching the Paris Fashion Week crowd peacock through the streets, we could have just as easily been in NoLita.

Paris and New York are constantly compared and obviously have major differences. But it’s not as hard as you would think to forget what continent you’re on when old friends make everywhere immediately feel like home.

Living Among Paris’s Famous Ghosts

A week ago, a visiting friend and I went to see the famous graves at the Père Lachaise Cemetery in Paris. Every year millions of tourists tour the tombs of Paris’s deceased-celebrity residents, as well as family members paying respects to those buried alongside.

Some make a pilgrimage to the cemetery to pay tribute to their heroes and icons. On the grave of the cartoonist “Tignous” killed in the 2015 Charlie Hebdo attack, mourners leave artist pencils. At Gertrude Stein’s grave visitors pile up pebbles signifying they were there. Jim Morrison is often memorialized with photos, cigarettes and glasses of alcohol.

And at Oscar Wilde’s tomb, fans leave kiss marks and write letters to the author, slipping them under the plexiglass surrounding the grave. We were able to read many of the open letters. Most detailed how Wilde’s work inspired the authors, or got them through tough times. But I wanted to share one in particular that also included an update on the gay rights movement, which the author thought would be of note to Wilde, who was famously imprisoned for being gay.

I don’t think I’ve ever loved an artist or had someone I don’t know personally influence my life to the extent I would write them a letter like this. Have you? I feel perhaps I am missing out on a certain type of connection.

And back to Stein for a moment. This week, while my sister and I toured spots where Hemingway, Fitzgerald and the rest of “The Lost Generation” lived, died and drank (and drank and drank…), we stopped at 27 rue de Fleurus. It’s the site of the apartment where Stein and her partner Alice B. Toklas held famed artists salons for over 30 years.

You may also know this street from the movie “Midnight in Paris” (unpopular opinion alert: I don’t like that movie), and there is a plaque commemorating the location. Standing in front of the building we had a bit of a moment realizing how many famed authors, artists and free-thinkers went through those doors and how much the world still revers their marks on culture.

It’s another perk of living in Paris– every walk is an opportunity to learn about history and culture in the shadows of the people who walked the same streets before you.

After a September filled with visiting friends, a break from school, kick-starting my freelance writing career and lots of wine, October will really be back to reality — school, work and continuing to build a life here. Because shockingly, even moving to France doesn’t get rid of bills, insurance forms and stolen Equifax data. I missed that part of “Beauty and the Beast” apparently.

Until next time mes amis! xoxo

Follow me on Instagram at @charliannejames for daily stories on the funny, delicious and strange about life in France.

<—- Paris Dispatch #2: The Growth Zone

Paris Dispatch #4: The Waiting Game —->

I had worked hard for that comfort zone, but at the same time was feeling the itch for something new, and something a little easier than NYC living. A classic grass-is-always-greener millennial dilemma.

So we did it. We moved to France. And now I’m full-on feeling the other side the coin: the growth zone and the lack of comfort that comes with it.

46 million turkeys each Thanksgiving

The French course I’ve been taking all August is at the Catholic University of Paris, a fact I can’t forget what with the nuns in my class and monks roaming the campus. It’s a higher level than I was enrolled in for July, and my teacher is quite strict meaning this month has been less feel-good for me with the old French language. It’s also led to some stark realizations as to how quickly my life has changed.

While the United States appeared to be reaching a boiling point over the terrible events in Charlottesville, in Paris I was preparing for my first exposé orale (oral presentation) to give in front of my class in French. We had to choose a custom from our home country that represents our culture, so as the only American in the class I of course chose Thanksgiving.

I’m following the news on Twitter while researching for my exposé. Photos of men with torches marching on the UVA campus, reports of a car driven into a crowd, the ugly aftermath of political reactions — meanwhile I’m also looking up facts about how many turkeys are eaten by Americans each Thanksgiving and translating them. I thought about where I may have been during these protests if I was there covering the story, and it dawned on me in that moment how much my life has changed.

In just the span of two months I’d gone from reporting American breaking news to giving reports on turkeys in French for a class of 12.

I realize this is all part of the process of razing your former life and rebuilding on another continent, and I’m not regretting my decision. But it is a big change and to me the timing underscored the major shift in autonomy I feel over my life here. Without a full-time job, without my family and long-time friends, without the confidence of 10 years mastering New York City, it is tough to re-establish a sense of self. Who am I here in Paris? That’s what I’m still trying to figure out.

I can’t buy grapes anymore

While I understood the limitations I would face with language before moving to France, I forgot about the metric system. The last time I forgot about the metric system was during my first Christmas spent with my in-laws. I didn’t realize until after all the presents had been opened that the adorable Russian nesting dolls measuring cups set I bought for my mother-in-law was completely useless to her because they measured cups instead of milliliters. I still haven’t had the nerve to ask her what she did with them.

While I’m spending many hours a day on the French language, I haven’t gotten around to practicing my temperature and measurement conversions. Which means when I go to the produce market, I can ask for a cantaloupe or four apples, but I have no idea how to ask for the amount of cherries or grapes I want. (They don’t let you touch the produce yourself.) So now I just don’t buy certain things because I still have no idea what a gram is.

At least I’m not the only one with this type of problem. I was telling a Syrian friend of mine about this over cheesecake, when she shared that during her early stages of learning French (she’s now fluent), she avoided making appointments for Wednesdays at all costs because she couldn’t really pronounce “mercredi.”

Now, I realize you could think I am hating living in France based on my last couple of observations, but that is not the case at all. Just because something is difficult, or out of your comfort zone, doesn’t mean it is bad. The same friend told me yesterday that learning another language is like giving birth. It’s a lot of hard work, and not completely enjoyable, but in the end you have one of the best gifts in life.

Parisians are just people too

Nothing stays brand new for long– not shoes, not love and not a new city. The more French I learn, the more Paris is unlocked for me, the more I’m able to do on my own with confidence. But on the flip side, the more this city loses its big feeling of mystery.

When I couldn’t understand the couple next to me at a cafe, I imagined they were having some deep conversation that was definitely worth spying on if only I could understand their language! Now I realize they are just talking shit about a friend or work issues or some other normal stuff that all couples talk about over coffee. The city is now populated more with regular people I can understand (mostly) instead of fabulous people living secret fantastic lives I wasn’t privy to only because of my language deficiencies.

I know you like scarves, but this is a little excessive

Any French person reading this who can explain why the people of Paris are dressed like it’s November in the middle of summer? 90 degrees outside (32? 33 degrees Celsius?) and women are in tights, men are in sweaters, children in actual puffer jackets.

Are you a cold people? More sensitive to a breeze than us Anglo-Saxons? My husband’s theory is that maybe it’s seen as more polite to sweat in your leather jacket than to expose your summer stink to the rest of the world. I’m not sure about that. Any ideas?

My French brainwashing

As part of my “integration contract” that I signed at my immigration appointment promising to integrate into French life, I had to spend two days in mandatory civics classes. We new immigrants learned about French history, values, laws and how to navigate daily life in Paris. I wrote up a whole post about the experience, but I thought I’d share some of the more interesting facts I learned:

• France got its name from the first king of France, a guy named Clovis who also made it a Christian nation. He was part of a Germanic tribe called the Francs, which became the name France.
• France abolished slavery 17 years before America, but French women didn’t get the right to vote until 24 years after American women.
• You are not allowed to cover your face in public. The official reason for this is public safety, but some people feel it is a law intended to target Muslim women who wear the burka.
• Abortion is not legal in France after three months of pregnancy.
• National health insurance covers 70% of your medical costs. 100% of maternal and young children’s care is covered.

Euro-tripping

I finally took advantage of the fact that I’m surrounded by neighboring countries that are easy to discover via train. Thanks to the idea of one of my dear California friends, she and I met in Amsterdam where we went full Dutch and rented biked, drove a boat in the canals, tried various Dutch mystery meats, educated ourselves about Vincent Van Gogh and other when-in-Holland activities.

Amsterdam is a great choice for a weekend away, a pleasant 3.5 hour train ride, and I would definitely recommend a visit.

I also took a day trip with the in-laws last weekend to Étretat by the seaside in Normandy to hike the stunning cliffs. You can read more about that trip here: The Cliffs of Étretat.

La Rentrée

Coming up next week, September 4th is la rentrée in France. “The return” officially refers to back-to-school time for kids, but has come to mean a restart to life for all French people following summer holidays.

I’m a little in love with this concept which has as much meaning in France as the start of a new year, if not more. It also corresponds with the three-month mark for our move to Paris, and I’m looking forward to resetting my own life here in Paris after a summer full of adjustments and growth.

Back again after summer is over mes amis! xoxo

Follow me on Instagram at @charliannejames for daily stories on the funny, delicious and strange about life in France.

<—-Paris Dispatch #1: Hello New Life

Paris Dispatch #3: La Rentrée —->

If you remember the newsletters I would send out during my previous stays in France, Korea and Japan, I’m hoping you’ll appreciate these dispatches from Paris.

Goodbye New York

I should have known that dismantling the life I had spent over a decade building in NYC would be a stressful experience. But in my excitement over the decision to move, I underestimated the emotional impact of packing up your entire life, selling most of your possessions and entering the vulnerable state of becoming an immigrant.

After a week of dealing with people on craigslist (the worst), moving out, repacking, buying extra luggage, and saying goodbye to our friends, family and city— the day finally came. Our Uber XL packed to the ceiling with military duffel bags barreled over the RFK bridge toward JFK airport.

I was already in precarious emotional shape, smooshed between bags of everything I own, when I got a call from my sister’s mother-in-law, herself an immigrant to America from Albania.

“Charli, I just want to let you know that you are going to do great. Don’t be scared. I moved to America with $40 and didn’t speak English, and look at my family now. You have your husband, you are young and in love and you have his family there. You are going to make it.”

Now I was smooshed between bags of everything I own and crying my eyes out.

Bonjour Paris

My mother-in-law wouldn’t allow herself to fully believe we were moving to Paris until we were standing on French soil. When we stepped out of customs, bleary-eyed and a little smelly, it was her turn to burst into tears. It was also her birthday, so this was a big gift for her, though she promptly presented me with flowers, a baguette, croissants and cheese. The perfect French welcome.

After clown-car-ing ourselves to Paris, we moved into our perfect little apartment in the Marais, in a building constructed before America was even an idea (because it’s France). I was beyond thankful my husband already had an apartment in the city. If we had to now, on the brink of mental and physical exhaustion, search for an apartment and furnish it, I may have had a complete breakdown. Instead I saved up that breakdown for my battles with the French language. More on that later. But first, we had a party.

The welcome wagon

I’ve quickly learned one of the best parts of living in Paris as an American, is that you’ll have a steady stream of visitors coming to The City of Light for work or pleasure. The day we landed, we already had two dear friends in town, Milos and Tina, who were able to represent NYC at our little welcome party at our generous friends’ apartment.

It was very French. Magnum of champagne, six different kinds of pâté (ground meat and fat minced into a spreadable paste, YUM), and lots of real French people. I didn’t understand half of what was being discussed, but not gonna lie, it felt pretty great to move to a city and already feel like you have a group of people who love you.

Me vs. La langue française

Despite being with my husband for five years, and living in France for a short stint years ago, my French upon arrival was still embarrassing. The fact I didn’t let this stop me from moving to France, I guess makes me either brave or very stupid. My own opinion on that varies depending on the day.

My motto in this arena has been the same one I tell myself every year when tax time rolls around: “People much stupider, and with far fewer resources, than me have gotten through this. I can do it.”

That doesn’t mean it’s easy. It’s actually been harder for me than working. With work I felt confident, produced something of quality. Now, I have to work my ass off, focus like a hawk for hours a day at school, and embarrass myself on the regular, to be just okay at something. And I’m paying for this privilege. I’ve already gone to three schools (on my third program now) and spent over 100 hours in class, plus at least that much studying on my own. All to finally make it to the intermediate level of B1 (which is the required level to obtain French nationality by the way).

At first, when people would understand me speaking to them in French, I could hardly believe it was happening. It felt like I had a magical power. Or I thought they must just be pretending to understand me. Then I started to understand people when they spoke back to me. Holy crap.

Now I’m just starting to not have to conjugate every single verb before I say it, reach for each word somewhere in the library in back of my head. It’s still not easy, but I’m not terrified every time I have to interact with strangers anymore.

As for the breakdowns, and yes I’ve had a few, they are mostly spurred when I allow one of three thoughts to override the others:

1. You suck at speaking French and will never be good.
2. You’re too old for this s***.
3. Why are you putting yourself through this when there is a perfectly good country you come from where you speak the language perfectly?

Thankfully, I’ve been able to (so far) placate these demons with copious amounts of baked goods and good old fashion American work ethic. You haven’t beat me yet French.

Spot the Americans

When we lived in New York, my husband had this uncanny ability to recognize someone was French on the street from a block away. I though it was so weird, cause people are people, right? But now that I live in France, it has dawned on me that you don’t realize how well you know your own people until you aren’t surrounded by them anymore.

I too can now spot an American easily, and not only the ones wearing fanny packs and Hard Rock Hotel tank tops in line for Notre Dame. I can’t put a finger on, but there must be something in our shared American upraising with that seeps into our mannerisms. I also now hear English from down the street, rising up through the fog of French to my prickling ears, with the sound of familiarity and strange sharpness against the melodic tones of the dominant language.

La Belle Vie

Sometimes when I’m walking by myself, I look around at how beautiful this city is and can’t believe they actually let people live here. Especially American interlopers like me.

In June and July there were too many wonderful meals, weekend trips and beautiful locations to name them all, so I’ll just give a quick rundown of the highlights:

• Our dear New York friends Missy and Ben were the first people to book a trip to come see us after we made the decision to move. We ate ourselves silly, drank a 50 year old bottle of wine (which Missy and I weren’t sure we deserved), and were able to show them a little slice of our new life.
  
• We also all went to Burgundy, where we tried 30+ wines, tried on the French countryside life and tried to get Missy to eat the local specialty of escargot (she was somehow able to resist).
  
• We attended a wedding just outside of Paris, always a treat for an American like me. I’ll have more on French weddings and how to be a good foreign guest in a post coming up.
• I got another taste of French countryside life in Angers in the Loire Valley, where my husband’s friends and their three little children are living in a beautiful four-story Italian style home that is the stuff of Christmas morning dreams.

Being able to drive 2-3 hours outside of Paris and experience a completely different face of France — each area has its own food, culture and beauty — is truly a luxury I’ve never experienced in America. And there is still so much of France left for me to discover. I may not live long enough to eat everything I want to in this country.

You’re gonna make it after all

I haven’t been tempted to book a ticket back to NYC yet, and I even feel like I’m starting to get the hang of this place. Learning French will be a battle for a while, I’m sure of that, but it is at least starting to feel like a mountain I can eventually climb.

It seems everyone in France is on their weeks-long August holiday, while I’m in a classroom every day. But I’m still a Frenchie-in-training, and I have to earn my Parisienne stripes.

Until next time mes amis! xoxo

Follow me on Instagram at @charliannejames for daily stories on the funny, delicious and strange about life in France.