Félicitations! If you’re reading this, you’re likely pregnant and live in France – two reasons to celebrate. But…now what?

Too superstitious to research before, I had no clue what to do when I first found out I was expecting in Paris. If you’re a foreigner, and perhaps your French skills are limited, it can be especially hard to navigate the French healthcare system.

Here’s what I learned at the start of my pregnancy, to help you begin your journey.

Research and apply at hospitals ASAP

In France, you have to register for a spot at the maternité you’d like to give birth at. You do this on the hospital websites and can’t apply too early, especially in Paris. There is nothing to lose by applying to multiple hospitals — in fact, I would recommend it in order to increase your chances of securing a place. Note: Some maternities require proof of pregnancy before they will confirm your spot.

• Consider the type of care you will need
  Maternites in France are classified as niveau 1, 2, or 3 depending on the level of intensive care available. I had no underlying conditions and a single fetus, so I was comfortable with a niveau 1 hospital. If you are expecting multiples or have certain health concerns, you’ll want a level 2, and level 3 is for the riskiest pregnancies. You can apply to a level 3 hospital even if you aren’t high risk, but I’ve heard of women not getting the amount of attention they want during labor because there are precarious births underway that require intense care from the staff. Certain hospitals in Paris are also known for being more breastfeeding friendly, or more open to medication-free birth.
  
• Consider the distance
  Do you want to be driving across town when you go into labor? Particularly if you plan to have your pre-natal care all at the hospital, consider how far you’ll want to travel.
  
• Consider your budget
  The care at public French hospitals is generally excellent, and nearly free (that’s why we pay all those taxes!). But if you want a fancier level of care or facility, there are private hospitals where you can get this for about 5,000 – 8,000 euros.

Once accepted, you’ll need to bring the following to register at the maternité: French ID/Visa, proof of address (such as an EDF bill), date of your last period, all your lab results and sonograms (if you have), and your sécurité sociale and mutuelle cards.

Confirm your pregnancy

Go to a general practitioner to get prescriptions for a test to confirm your pregnancy and for blood work. You’ll take this to a laboratoire where you’ll give blood and urine samples. Warning — they take a lot of blood, so don’t plan on using your arm a lot that day. You should get your results a few days later.

Get a first examination

Once you have your test results, go to a sage-femme (midwife) or gynecologist for a first examination. As this was my first pregnancy, I went to an English-speaking sage-femme who was able to walk me through how the process works in France and what to expect. I found this extremely helpful.

Tips for finding a caregiver, especially if you want an English speaker: check out DoctoLib (you can filter by language), search in Facebook groups for expats and mothers in your city, ask your friends, call and ask at hospitals you are interested in, or ask your GP for a recommendation.

Your first appointment will likely include:

• A physical exam, including a pap smear if you haven’t had one recently.
• A consultation on your feelings about the pregnancy and your relationship with your partner.
• A test for risk of abnormalities to determine your risk group — level 1, 2, or 3.
• A declaration of pregnancy for your employer and sécurité sociale.
• Prescriptions for an échographie (sonogram) and more blood work if necessary.

Note about appointments (especially for Americans): Don’t be surprised if you have to drop your own pap smear sample at La Poste to be mailed to the lab, or if there is no changing room or gown offered at the office. This is normal in France.

Decide on your primary caregiver

You can have your pregnancy followed at the hospital for your entire term, or by your own sage-femme, gynecologist or GP and then transfer your care to the hospital nearer to your due date. If you choose to be followed at your hospital, it is possible you’ll see several caregivers over the course of your pre-natal care instead of just one, but this also gives you a better opportunity to meet the people who will help your deliver your baby.

Make an appointment for a sonogram

In France, your first échographie is usually at the three month mark. You are able to get one earlier in order to confirm the pregnancy is viable if that is something you wish to do, but you have to pay out of pocket for this and need an Rx. I did so, scheduling a sonogram at around two months for peace of mind. You’ll need to find an échographiste or you may be able to have this done at your hospital.

Declare your pregnancy to the French government

When you have medical confirmation of your pregnancy, you need to tell the French healthcare system through the Ameli.fr website as well as the caisse d’allocations familiales (Caf). It is important to do this before 14 weeks to ensure that you are fully reimbursed for the cost of your medical care.

If you don’t already have your carte vitale (French healthcare card), you’ll have to pay out of pocket and file feuille de soins to get reimbursed after you have coverage.

Once you are confirmed at a hospital and your pregnancy is declared to the government, the French system clearly lays out what your pre-natal care will look like for the rest of your pregnancy. You will receive a lot of information from both the hospital and government on proper care and diet and I found that there is a lot of support available.

Finally, here are some helpful documents for understanding what’s ahead (all in French):

• Le guide Ma maternité – Je prépare l’arrivée de mon enfant (PDF)
• Grossesse : démarches et accompagnement (Ameli)
• Grossesse : examens médicaux (outlines all your medical appointments)

Have you given birth in France? Leave a comment sharing your experience and what your first steps were!

But you still have to adjust to a foreign land, create a new life and integrate into a society unlike what you’re used to. Not an easy task.

When I first moved to Paris, I thought I had mentally prepared for these challenges. I’d been honest with myself that the adjustment wasn’t going to be all fun and games. But there are certain things in life you can’t really grasp until you’re in the thick of it.

A year and a half in, I’m still learning something new everyday. But I have a firm understanding of what I did right before boarding the plane for France, and what else I wish I had known.

Have a serious talk with your partner about the level of support you will need

In the excitement of moving, its easy to get caught up in the daydreams of walking along the Seine, hand-in-hand with your spouse as the Eiffel tower twinkles in the distance. You’re not thinking about what happens when you can’t find a job or you try to exchange something at Monoprix and the process goes awry and you cry in the store (I speak from experience).

These are also the moments that will make up your new expat life. Doing an assessment of where you will need help and how you are going to handle it as a team is a must. Some questions to discuss:

• How much help will I need with the language? Will I be able to get through day-to-day life alone? Do visa or employment paperwork alone? Work in the language? Are you prepared to help me with all that if needed?
• How much support will I need financially? How will the balance of our financial responsibility change once we are there? How long could I potentially go without working? Will I be making less money?
• How much of a social support system will I have? Do I have my own friends or family there? How much are we going to see your family? How often will we travel back to my home country?
• How much emotional support will I need? Will my level of independence be much different there? How could that balance of power change our relationship?

Give yourself a timeline

Set an amount of time you are going to stick it out no matter how hard it gets. I told myself (and my husband) I was committing to 2-3 years and if after that I still didn’t like it, or couldn’t build a life, we could broach the subject of moving back. I knew from moving to NYC in my 20s that it takes years to really feel like you live in a city. So I wasn’t going to make an assessment until I had given it enough time to really know Paris.

The purpose of this commitment is two-fold. First, there will be many times, especially in the first year, that you will want to give up. Where it all feels too hard. Where it feels like you will never learn the language. Where it feels like the loneliness is unbearable. In those moments, booking yourself a one-way ticket home and saying au revoir to all that will be immensely tempting.

The second is that if you have in your head that you can or will leave, you’re not going to give it the same effort as if you’ve committed to this being your life for at least the near future. You won’t work as hard to make friends, or learn the language or even learn your way around the city. If you go into it believing you have an escape hatch, you will reach for the emergency brake instead of pushing through the hard times.

Understand it is a lot of hard work and be ready

Time for a come to Jesus moment with yourself. Moving abroad is not all ponies and unicorns. It will change you, it will change your relationship, and it will be a lot of hard work. The sooner you get the fantasy of wine on terraces all day out of your head, the better.

The idea many people have about life in France can make you feel guilty if the reality isn’t a dream. Friends back home will tell you you are so lucky to live here (true!), but therefore may not be receptive to hearing about your struggles.

For a better idea of what to expect, I recommend reading up a bit on French culture, history and the intricacies of the language — as well as the tales of expats who came before you. Here is a list of books I read before moving.

I don’t regret moving to Paris at all, but immigrating and adjusting hasn’t been easy. The amount of payoff you get is directly related to how much work you put in. If you don’t put in the effort, you will fail to integrate, period.

After you move into your new home, unpack, and memorize your own telephone number in French (took me longer than it should have) — the work of building your new life and identity begins.

Don’t rely on your partner for your entire social life

Most expat husbands and wives find it is important to their happiness that they don’t feel completely dependent on their partner. This requires putting yourself out there, and getting yourself out of the house a lot.

If you have even remote connections in your new country, use them. I found that when I announced I was moving to France, friends and acquaintances happily offered to connect me with anyone they knew here. It can feel awkward to have to meet so many people, many of whom you won’t “click” with, but there is no shortcut to making friends.

Other ways to meet people:

• There are a ton of resources online — from MeetUp events to Facebook groups for expats based on country of origin, interests or reason you’re in the country (such as for au pairs or spouse groups).
• In Paris, there are dozens of organizations that cater to expats — from theater groups to libraries to church groups to sports clubs.
• Try getting involved in a hobby you had in your new country. Become a regular at a yoga studio, sign up for an art class or another activity you loved back home that could attract like-minded people.

Even if you participate with your partner, it will feel good to be leading rather than following their plans. It’s also okay if your personal social life is in your comfort zone. While I do speak French with my husband’s friends and family, my personal social circle is almost entirely in English.

Give your days structure

Be disciplined about getting out of the house, studying and looking for opportunities to meet people. Get out of the normal touristy bubble and learn about local events you can add to your calendar. You will learn very little about your new home by sitting on your couch, as tempting as it is sometimes.

If you don’t have a job yet, I recommend using language school as a way to give yourself a set schedule. This worked great for me.

If you are searching for a job, be open-minded and get creative about the opportunities you look for. Dedicate time everyday to searching, applying and building a network. For more tips on finding English-language work in France, check out this article.

Language, language, language

It may seem obvious, but still needs to be said: Make learning the language a priority. If you can afford to and need to, take a few months when you arrive to dedicate to language courses and giving yourself time to learn your new environment. Classes don’t have to break the bank, and this can give you some adjustment time.

For those of us living in our foreign spouses’ homeland, the language is integral to connecting with your partner’s family and friends and becoming more independent. Personally I don’t enjoy the process of learning French much, and feel dumb much of the time, but the change it makes in your quality of life is immense.

Avoid playing the comparison game

The guy you read about who was “fluent” in three months. The woman who created a blog and now makes a living off her Instagram account. The friend-of-a-friend who landed a job in a week. These stories aren’t the reality for the vast majority of people who move to another country, so try not to use them as a yardstick.

Part of moving is figuring out who YOU are in this new environment. You may not have the job, family, friends and social structure you had back at home — and it can be hard to know yourself without all that. Focus on learning what works for you, not comparing yourself to others (who probably aren’t sharing all their struggles).

Don’t take it personally and move forward

Cultural differences will sometimes make you feel like people are being rude, when in fact they are just being French. There will be times when you feel like an alien because your normal ways of communicating don’t translate. Try not to take it to heart (easier said than done, I know).

You live in France, and you’re going to have to adjust to the way things are done here — the country is not going to change for you. So the sooner you accept that and learn how to deal with it, the better your life will become. You can spend all day comparing how things were done back in your country — but deciphering the culture and moving forward will be more productive.

Don’t forget to enjoy yourself

In the whirlwind of setting up your life, the pressure can feel overwhelming. Remember to still take time to do things you love, discover new places and take care of yourself.

Find the parts of the culture that really interest you and do a deep dive — maybe it is the language, food, regional differences, design or history. Or just give yourself a “day off” every once in a while to take a break from learning and treat yourself.

When you’re in the day-to-day struggle of building a new life, it can be hard to accurately assess your progress. Sometimes I beat myself up about my language skills, the number of friends I’ve made, or how I don’t know the names of the streets in my own neighborhood. But when I compare my life now to when I arrived, or even six months ago, I feel proud of myself.

Every few months (or whenever you’re feeling discouraged), check back in on some of the milestones you’ve hit with language, social life, work and learning about France.

Set goals, but don’t judge yourself too harshly if you don’t hit all of them exactly on time. The reality is, it will likely take you longer than you expect to adjust to your new country. Give yourself time to make it work, and cut yourself some slack.

Integration and adjustment must be measured in months and years, not days and weeks. By having realistic expectations, you and your relationship will be more likely to succeed. And of course, each person’s process is different, so please leave a comment and share what worked for you if you have additional advice!

Commonly heard: “It’s the best way to learn!” or “You’re so lucky to have a live-in tutor!”or “Tell him to only speak to you in French.”

If only it was that simple.

I moved to Paris about a year and a half ago and immediately threw myself into intensive French lessons. I adjusted to speaking French in public. Then I managed to get a job at a French company (though my output is in English). I do my best to speak French with my husband’s family and friends.

But the one place I rarely speak French is in my own home with my husband. We do watch local news and our shared vocabulary is peppered with French words, but our daily conversation is a private island of English in a sea of French.

At one point we tried to spend one hour a day speaking only French together. Then we tried one day a week. Neither effort lasted very long or worked out very well. Now I’m going to stop beating myself up, and stop feeling guilty that our Parisian apartment is an English oasis for me.

I have bonded with several expat spouses over the predicament of making “the switch.” There is a lot of pressure and guilt involved with living in another country and not speaking the language perfectly, especially when your partner has a whole life in that language. While the necessity of learning and speaking is pretty straightforward when it comes to public life, emotions complicate this in romantic relationships.

Here’s why I’m done feeling bad about speaking English with my husband in private (for now):

It is bizarre to switch after “meeting” someone in one language

Our history is in English, our jokes are in English (or Franglish) and we got married in English. Because I spoke zero French when we met and we spent the first five years of our relationship living in the United States, by default English became our lingua franca.

While I have loved discovering who my husband is in French, and feel like I understand him more by living in his country, it still feels strange to speak anything but English when we are alone.

Speaking French is work for me

After a day of utilizing French to run errands, feed myself and get my job done, I simply don’t want to work to speak to my husband. I just want to enjoy our time together. I make the effort everywhere else, so for now I’m giving myself a pass inside the walls of my home.

I don’t feel like myself in French

At this point in my learning process, the French language is utilitarian for me. I can go get a flu shot in French, but I still can’t manage to translate my personality much. Pretty hard to connect when you feel only a couple steps above a robot in the charisma department.

I hate making mistakes in front of him

He’s not my live-in French tutor, he’s my husband. I don’t like using the wrong verb forms in front of him or having him correct my pronunciation. Of course I ask when there is a word I don’t understand on TV, but I don’t want to be his student.

It’s hard for me to see anything romantique about my B-level French, and I admit self-consciousness is the biggest thing holding me back. But the embarrassment factor is not something I’ve been able to overcome at home.

We are setting a precedent

If we have children and decide to stay in France, it would make sense to speak English at home with them when we are all together. They will have every opportunity to speak French in Paris, but learning and maintaining English will be a bigger challenge.

Are you in a multi-lingual relationship? Which language do you speak at home and how did you decide? And if you made “the switch” please leave a comment and share your tips with me!

The early years of my own international relationship often involved holding our breath at JFK airport or months of separation while waiting for a new visa. Despite those stresses, my French now-husband and I wanted to get married on our “own terms.” To us, this meant not letting outside forces influence when we decided to make that leap. So we continued to hold our breath.

But after one particularly-long forced separation, it got to the point were I could no longer handle the emotional torture of not knowing when we would be together again. Instead of feeling like we were holding off on marriage for our “own terms,” it felt like the United States government was dictating our relationship.

Though we were born 4,357 miles apart, somehow we found each other. I was done being separated from my person just because our passports are different colors.

So we made the jump. Six weeks after he proposed, we got married. And what we feared would mean taking all the romance out of the experience — getting married “for papers” — was in fact the most romantic gift we could give. In our case, saying “I do” also meant giving each other love without worry.

My story is far from uncommon. My friend Rachel moved to Paris on a tourist visa 15 years ago and also ended up playing the immigration game. After being rejected for a fifth time to extend her visa, she called her French then-boyfriend-of-one-year Max in tears to tell him she couldn’t live this way anymore and was going back to the United States. “No you’re not, we’re getting married,” he replied.

“We were in love and going down that path and Max knew that marriage was something I wanted eventually,” Rachel recalled. “But the idea of not being together is what sped that up.”

They wed just the two of them, in jeans, at their city hall in Paris with plans to celebrate with family and friends at a later date.

“We did get married for me to ‘have papers’ but that’s not really why we got married. We got married to stay together,” says Rachel. “I felt in love with this man and that he loved me so much he would do anything for us to be together.”

If you don’t share a nationality, it is almost always a challenge to stay together. So when you’re an “international couple” the logistical element of the legal status of marriage carries an out-sized significance.

Saying marriage isn’t important is a convenience when you’re born in the same country. Power of attorney, medical and children’s custody rights become so much more critical when your families are oceans apart. It’s a bigger expression than just love, it’s also the commitment to take care of someone and guide them in a foreign country.

My husband and I probably wouldn’t have gotten married on the exact date we did if we were both born American, or both French. If we shared a country, we would have had the luxury of time and “our terms.”

But we also wouldn’t have had to so actively choose to be together either. We wouldn’t have had to sacrifice the unbelievable amounts of time, money and energy it took for the privilege of being able to wake up next to each other. To say that marrying “for papers” isn’t romantic is to overlook the huge gift that extending your nationality to someone is. It’s not about the papers, but the right to be in each other’s lives that those papers give you. And that is true romance.

Of course not every wedding in France follows the same pattern, but there are many typical marriage traditions. Read on to learn about the different events, customs and how to dress properly.

Part I: The City Hall

To be married in the eyes of the French government, you can’t just wed in a church or private ceremony. You have to get married at the mairie (city hall) of the town or district in which you live.

There is no hard and fast rule as to when couples do the city hall portion of their wedding. It’s almost always before the church or ceremony part, but sometimes it’s a year before, a month before or just hours before. If the same day, sometimes there will be a break and a lunch before the next part of the wedding.

Usually the city hall wedding is limited to a smaller group — only family and a few friends or witnesses. It isn’t common for everyone who is invited to the party to be invited to the city hall, so it is possible you won’t be asked to attend both.

Part II: The Church

France is a majority Catholic country, so beaucoup des mariages include a Catholic ceremony. Unlike in America where I have been to abbreviated Catholic wedding ceremonies without a mass, in France it’s always been the whole she-bang with communion and everything. It will be one-and-a-half to two hours long in general. If you were raised Catholic in America, you will recognize the service and songs — it’s exactly the same just in French instead of English.

French couples call their bridesmaids and groomsmen les témoins, which means witnesses. There may be a color theme or an accessory to differentiate them, but rarely are they dressed in identical suits or dresses. The French find this tacky and make fun of Americans for doing this.

If you are in a French wedding, know there is never a rehearsal at the church or of the non-religious ceremony. You will get instructions but there isn’t a run through — the real event is the first time everyone walks down the aisle.

Part III: The Château

The French don’t have their weddings in hotel ballrooms like Americans are so fond of. A common choice in France is to either rent a château (a country home built for French nobility) or a domaine (generally a wine estate) to hold the dinner and party (and the ceremony if they don’t go the religious route). If the family is very well off, they may have their own château to use. Often the couple’s family and wedding party sleep at the location as well.

• The Cocktail Hour

You generally will arrive after the church for a couple of hours of cocktails and small appetizers. This is the same as in America and provides an opportunity for people to get to know each other. The food will be French though of course. Don’t over eat or drink during this part, as tempting as it always is.

• The Tiered Invitation System

In France, sometimes people will be invited to the cocktail hour, but not to the dinner and party after. This tier of invitation is typically used for people who are friends of a family member but don’t know the bride or groom well. For example, coworkers or business partners of the parents.

I was shocked when I found out about this, but it is normal in France, though not used at every wedding. No one would be invited from out of town only for this level of invitation, it is for people who live where the wedding is held.

• Le Rite de la Jarretière

The French equivalent of the garter toss is more like a garter auction. Following the bouquet toss, a jar is produced and the guest who ponies up the most money gets to lift up the bride’s skirt and take off her garter. This is an old-fashioned tradition that I’ve never actually seen myself, but apparently still happens at some French weddings.

• The Meal

Dinner won’t be served until at least 9pm, which is late to Americans but normal in France. The meal will be seated, individually plated and multi-course. The French view buffets or family-style service as for Sunday lunch. Personally I love a family-style wedding dinner, but I guess that’s the American in me.

Big heads up for Les Américains: There will only be one meal option. There will be no “steak, chicken or fish” box to check on your RSVP card and you will not be asked your preference once you are there. There will be one meal and the main dish is often red meat.

Good news is that because it’s France, your one option will be excellent. The last wedding I went to it was taureau (bull), which I had never eaten before but was a regional specialty and delicious.

• Tourner Les Serviettes!

The “turning of the napkins” is a must-know French wedding move. When the couple enters the dining room, or when excited about something, the French will take their cloth napkins and raise them over their heads and twirl them.

This isn’t used exclusively for weddings, so it is possible you may see it at other celebrations as well, but it is a French classic. Let those napkins fly!

• The Wedding Cake

The French wedding cake is called a pièce montée — or more commonly in America, croquembouche. A tower of cream puffs filled with flavors such as vanilla, chocolate and coffee, it is often decorated with spun caramel, flowers or fruit. Sometimes it is presented with fireworks before the couple cuts it. I fell in love with this cake at the first French wedding I ever went to.

• The Party + Dancing
  

Pace yourself with the drinking because French wedding parties can continue until six in the morning or later, with more food sometimes being brought out late in the night. When you rent a château there are no noise ordinances or closing times to worry about, so the party can go as long as people want and French people can party hard.

• The Gifts

Just as in America, some couples will have a wedding registry (liste de mariage) full of kitchen items you can buy online and have sent to them. There will also be a box at the reception to leave cards and monetary gifts.

• Next-Day Brunch

Often there will be a farewell brunch the following day also at the château. This is more casual with pizza or crepes or sandwiches served instead of a sit-down meal. It is a chance for people to say goodbye to the couple and nurse their hangovers with strong coffee before traveling home.

How to Dress at a French Wedding

My first couple of French weddings I very much over dressed. I saw the word château, got all intimidated and assumed I needed to go super fancy. Cut to me being the only woman besides the bride in a long formal dress.

Even if the invitation says black tie, I recommend erring on the more casual side with a shorter dress depending on the weather. Especially if the wedding is in the countryside, people won’t dress up as much.

You can’t go wrong with with a nice cocktail dress, fancier sundress or feminine pant suit. Avoid showing too much leg or cleavage. French women don’t usually wear super tight, short or low-cut clothes. Same rule about avoiding white applies in France, though women will wear black and red which is sometimes seen as inappropriate in America.

In typical French fashion, your hair and makeup shouldn’t be overly done either. Even at a wedding French women aren’t sporting hair that looks Drybar done and heavy makeup. For more on the French beauty standards see this article.

• Outfit Change

Some French women will wear one outfit to the city hall and/or church, and then change before the reception. I’ve started doing this and am into it. This mimics the couple who usually wear something more casual to the city hall than change for the church or reception.

During the day wear a nice sundress or a pretty skirt and heeled sandals. For the church be mindful of customs and cover your shoulders and back with a shawl if your outfit doesn’t. Then for the party change into something a little more festive and fancy.

Et voilà! You are ready to attend a French mariage!

Have you been to a French wedding? Anything I missed that surprised you? Leave a comment and share!

The Trophy Wife notion only works within a system where other men are jealous of said trophy. In France, a beautiful woman whose sole purpose is her looks, one without many ideas or interests beyond the shallow end, is not something that incites envy. The French highly value the art of conversation, word play and argumentative skills (as well as cooking) in a wife. Therefore, in a society where much of socializing is in mixed company involving long dinners and the exchange of stories and ideas, a merely decorative woman’s charms don’t last long.

The closest translation of Trophy Wife in French is femme potiche or simply potiche which means decorative vase — something pretty that just sits there on a shelf. There is a film by that name starring Catherine Deneuve and Gérard Depardieu, where the “decorative vase” wife takes over her philandering husband’s factory and turns out to be a remarkably effective and assertive leader. In France, even the trophies are women to be reckoned with.

Let’s take for example how the modern-day wives and girlfriends of French Presidents are expected to act. Unlike in America, they are given no official role or title. There is no Élysée Palace garden they are tending too. No expectation they will be picking out dishes. If they wish, they continue working — whether that job is journalist, actress, singer, charity worker or whatever they want to do.

Valérie Trierweiler, the (first) girlfriend of then-President François Hollande addressed the Trophy Wife concept head-on telling The Times (U.K.) in an interview after his election, “I want to represent the image of France, do the necessary smiling, be well-dressed, but it shouldn’t stop there. I will not be a trophy wife.”

She added to Elle France, “I don’t have a personal fortune. I need to earn a living. I have three children to take care of.” In fact, the vast majority of French women work (84% in 2013 and probably higher today) partly because the government has enacted policies making it easier for mothers to return to the labor force. In general, the Trophy Wife doesn’t work.

Obviously men in France have affairs, and sometimes they re-marry with younger women. But they still expect those younger women to be educated and interesting too, not just trophies. When a former French minister left his wife for a much younger woman, his ex-wife turned around and wrote a popular revenge novel called “Guerrilla Manual for Women.” It was a thinly-veiled hit job on her former spouse and his much younger bride with “a perfect body but few interests beyond shopping.” If you do go the Trophy Wife route in France, you can expect to be ridiculed by the public for it.

Mistresses are not obsolete in today’s France by any measure either, but even the most notorious French womanizer, Dominique Strauss-Kahn, stayed with his smart, successful and appropriately-aged wife. They divorced only after his assault scandal (it was not the long-known cheating she had a problem with). After all, you don’t take a mistress to an event or a dinner — you attend with your wife, and preferably you want her to be able to hold her own at the table.

Since moving to Paris, I’ve encountered a lot of new names. And of course, names that are common in one country can get easily lost in translation (or pronunciation) in another. In France, “Where’s Waldo?” is “Où est Charlie?” Luckily I’m too old for school-age taunting, but that surely would have replaced my schoolyard Charlie the Tuna-themed taunts had I been raised in France instead of America.

These names only sound “different” to me because I have an English-speaking ear. Most, if not all, sound perfectly lovely to a French person. Yes, my (future) children will also be French, but it is preferable that people in my home country could pronounce their names too. So no, I will not be bestowing these “prénoms” on them either.

Boy Names

Fewer fundamentally French boy names seem to have made the jump to English-speaking kids than girl names. Perhaps because Theophile or Guillaume (French version of William) do not lend themselves well to American pronunciations, or because so many popular boy names are deeply rooted in religion (see: Jean-Baptiste and Corentin). My husband’s name is also an American name, but I’ve wondered how our international courtship may have been different if he had been an Octave or Gustave instead.

A few of the boys’ names you’re not likely to encounter on the playground in the U.S. include:

• Hippolyte: A name rooted in Greek mythology and also the name of a saint. Pronounced “ee-po-leet,” in French, but let’s get real your child would be called Hippo for his entire life.
• Lancelot: Kid better have a high tolerance for “round table” themed jokes.
• Titouan: A variation of the name Antoine popular in the Brittany region.
• Gaspard: So French, and just a little too close to Gaston from Beauty and the Beast.
• Clovis: Name of the first king of France who also gave France its name, but sounds aromatic or equine to English ears.

Girl Names

It is harder to find a perplexing French girl name. Just as with everything else, their names are simply more chic in general than us Anglo-Saxons. One of the most popular female baby names right now is Manon, which I’ve never heard in the States, but is still adorable and stylish. Same with the popular Jeanne (French Joan), the Provence-native Lilou and Brittany-region moniker Maëlys (though this name would be a spelling nightmare in America).

However, there are a few girls’ names that may not work well for English-speaking kids including:

• Capucine: Might as well name your kid Frappuccino to American ears.
• Axelle: Middle name has got to be Rose, obviously.
• Océane: Quite common in France, but this nautical name hasn’t caught on in the States.
• Faustine: Meaning lucky or fortunate, but a little harsh sounding when pronounced with an American accent.
• Apolline: This is a popular and chic baby name with Parisian moms right now. It reminds me of Purple Rain and Appolonia, but that isn’t necessarily a negative!

Interested in more French names? You can check out the most popular baby names in France from 2015 and earlier here.

Any eclectic French names you absolutely love? Leave a comment and share!

But I’ve joined the ranks of women who succumbed to the french charms and married Frenchmen — I’m looking at you Natalie Portman, Scarlett Johansson, Mary-Kate Olsen, Halle Berry and Selma Hayek.

Now France is a forever part of my life and without me even realizing it, the French outlook on love and coupling has become a seamless part of my marriage. And though I protested at first, I have to admit some aspects of French relationships have been welcome additions to my life.

Bonjour me first, every day

In France when you enter a store, it is expected you will acknowledge the others in that store with a “bonjour!” The same with “au revoir” when leaving. As an American who only experienced retail welcomes and goodbyes like that from greeters at Wal-Mart, I found this custom invasive and annoying. As a New Yorker, I generally preferred to only speak to people when necessary– efficiency first in a busy city.

But here in France, it is invasive to the owner and fellow shoppers if you don’t announce your comings and goings. And guess what? Without me even realizing, this formality was instilled under my own roof as well. My husband expects I will kiss him and say “good morning” before I get out of bed and when entering and leaving the apartment a proper kiss and hello/goodbye is expected.

I think it is centering in our relationship to put each other first every time we see each other or open our eyes in the morning. Before work emails, before unloading the groceries, before running out the door. Without even realizing, I’ve been trained in the etiquette of the French bonjour.

Don’t bisou and tell (every time)

In France, love is a private and personal affair — every anniversary and date night not intended to be splashed all over Facebook.

It isn’t that French love is any less dramatic or deep– they just don’t go around trumpeting their personal life to the world like we Americans do. My husband (then-boyfriend) was shocked when I brought him to my office shortly after he moved to New York, and my co-workers (including my boss) knew everything about him.

In France you don’t bring your significant other to work and you certainly don’t tell your manager the cute story behind the shower radio he bought for you. It’s the same reason you’ll rarely see a French couple’s wedding photos openly on display in their home, while many Americans’ living rooms are a veritable shrine to their wedding day.

You should of course strike the balance that works for your relationship, but sometimes it’s nice to make like the French and keep some special moments just between the two of you.

Go your own way

French are all about shades of grey in love. Their version of “He loves me, he love me not” goes like this: “He loves me a little, a lot, passionately, madly, not at all.” (“Il m’aime un peu, beaucoup, passionnément, à la folie, pas du tout.”)

To Americans however, true love is black and white. It means sharing everything with someone, letting your entire guard down, making each other your whole world.

In French relationships it is considered healthy to have your own private life, interests and even secrets within the couple. If you let everything out in the open, what is there to wonder about? How can you sit around in your pajamas all day farting in front of each other and expect the other person to think you’re mysterious and sexy? This is the French mentality.

Now, I’m never going to give up my pajamas at all hours, but I’ve learned (begrudgingly) to give my husband his own space sometimes and understand that he’s not going to tell me every secret his friends tell him in confidence. 

Sur la Table

Dinner time is important to the French not only because they respect their food and culture, but because it is a time to sit together, without phones, and be with each other. And the table should be set properly out of respect for this ritual.

I’ve always been happy to eat out of a plastic Chinese food container (who wants dishes?), in bed (crumbs be damned) or plopped in front of Netflix. And before living with someone dinner was more likely to be a bag of pretzels and a diet coke than a home-cooked meal. This was unacceptable to my husband after we moved in together.

Coming home from work and seeing the table set, I would think, “who are we trying to impress here?” But the expectation of time together sitting at a table, with a real fork, formalizes the meal and makes it feel like a ritual. The French do the same thing with friends and family too, not just lovers. Eating huddled in front of the TV is just not acceptable.

I’m still working on learning how to cook, but I’m now happy to eat properly with my husband and use that time to focus on each other.

Have you integrated any of your partner’s romantic culture into your relationship? Tried any French romance tips? Leave a comment and tell me about it!

It was after visiting “Le Happiest Place on Earth” I asked my husband this ridiculous question:

“But French kids know Mickey Mouse really speaks English, right?”

“Uhhhh, what are you talking about? No, to them Mickey Mouse speaks French.”

At that moment I realized my husband grew up thinking Mickey Mouse was a French citizen. Not an American who natively spoke English and just happened to be speaking French for him as a favor. He told me that when Disneyland Paris opened it only reaffirmed this belief.

I was disturbed.

This got me feeling territorial, as if Mickey belonged to me more since I was born in the United States, just like the cartoon mouse. How dare my husband, as a five-year-old French boy think Mickey Mouse, American icon, spoke French! The nerve.

Why weren’t French parents explaining that Mickey was a gift to them from America? Didn’t they notice half the characters at Disneyland Paris were speaking English? Just because you slap a béret and a striped shirt on a mouse, that alone does not make him French.

But of course French kids think this, just as children all over the world think Mickey and his friends speak their language and are from their country. It’s a great thing. Mickey now belongs to the world. But to me as an American, Mickey and Disney are one of the most universal parts of growing up in the United States, and it took a few minutes of mental gymnastics to realize Disney doesn’t belong to my American childhood any extra amount just because he was realized in California.

Disney is actually a great bridge across French and American (and many other) cultures. The Lion King soundtrack in French is amazingly entertaining, as is hearing my husband sing the same Disney songs I grew up with, but in his native tongue. I’ve been trying for five years to get him to sing “A Whole New World” (or “Ce rêve bleu” — this blue dream) as a duet with me singing the Jasmine part in English and him being Aladdin in French. So far he has eluded me, but I haven’t forgotten. It will happen.

Now I see my husband’s god daughter obsessed with Minnie, the way I was obsessed with Minnie, and understand that the lady mouse belongs to her childhood the exact way the character belonged to mine, no matter the language she is speaking.

However after some discussion, it has been determined my own children will of course watch Disney films in the “version originale” because we all know Sleeping Beauty, Donald Duck, Scar and Elsa really speak English.