How many Americans could, legally, live abroad if they wanted to through ancestry or naturalization? A conservative estimate suggests that some 25 millions Americans hold dual nationality and could get on a plane, finances allowing, and live an entirely different life. An undetermined number of Americans are eligible for foreign citizenship but have not pursued it. Mine came through marriage (and many many years committed to France! And giving the state a lot of my money!) but today’s newsletter honoree, Fabienne Toback, was born with the potential for Swiss citizenship. And yet, while the award-winning filmmaker and producer of Netflix’s High on the Hog1could have moved abroad much earlier, she only made the jump two years ago— and to Paris.

Where was the last place you lived in the U.S.?
The Arts District in downtown Los Angeles.

Did you intend to leave permanently or was the move temporary?
Not initially. I knew I always wanted to live in Europe, but I didn’t know how or when it was going to come into being. My dual citizenship was an important factor in deciding to move here. Initially, I did not have the ability to be naturalized by Switzerland, rights were awarded only by patrilineal succession, but that changed in 1985. After 9/11 and the Bush administration, along with the invasion in Afghanistan, I could see the United States heading toward rapid change, and one that might require me to broaden my and my son’s geographic choices. I applied for my citizenship, which was a lengthy process and voila, my children and I had new options.

It truly is a gift that I am super grateful for; I wasn’t going to let it languish by living my entire life in the U.S.

Was there a pivotal moment when you knew your life would be best pursued elsewhere?
There wasn’t a pivotal moment per se, but I knew it was going to happen at some point in my life. It had been a desire since I worked at Columbia Pictures (while I worked there, we had a Paris office).

What sort of financial consideration did the move require, even if as a student initially? Does one need a plump savings account to make this work?
As a producer and creative consultant, my income is always a bit in flux. I had accumulated enough savings and, as a newly single person, was simultaneously being priced out of Los Angeles. Moving abroad is always a big leap, but I didn’t overthink it. My dual citizenship with Switzerland definitely made it a bit easier.

At what age did you leave? Looking back, was that too soon or too late?
Je ne regrette rien! I read somewhere recently that there are two things you can’t change or come back from: having kids and dying. Outside of being dead — in which case it would definitely be too late — I have a friend whose mother just moved to Portugal—she’s 80! Would you say that’s too late? Too late for what, at the end of the day?

When did you know you'd made the right [or wrong] call?
Moving is challenging; I also moved all my belongings. I don’t dwell on whether it was the right or wrong call. It’s done, and I embrace each day and look for the gifts that the move has given me.

What does Paris offer you that your native home couldn’t and, perhaps, still can’t?
The list is long. The city is so steeped in history, it’s palpable, but I’m sure you hear that all the time. I think in our globalized world there isn’t anything here or there that I couldn’t acquire. Gone are the days of getting that really special food item, or textile or trinket. What I get here is the intangible. I do feel a sense of belonging, even though Switzerland is far more familiar to me, I appreciate the seamless integration into the European culture; it wasn’t something I had to learn or become familiar with. That’s a nice thing. I am still working up my French, which has been a bit rusty for the past two decades. Sadly, I realize that I'm not quite as fluent as I thought, or could be if my partner spoke to me in French—that last 20% is a doozy, ça me casse!

Can you share any anecdotes about your highest and lowest moments in Paris?
Truly, what’s not to love (ah, the overcrowded metro on a rainy afternoon!)? I digress. Paris is truly a wonderful city. I’ve been here for just over two years and I’m still scratching the surface of what it has to offer. I quickly bought a bike when I moved here and, for me, that has been such a delight. You really grasp the size of Paris, it’s a small town compared to Los Angeles. To me, that’s part of its charm.

As for the lowest, and coming from California, you can guess, no big surprise, it’s the weather. Adjusting to the long gray winter. But to be honest, the weather would have been a challenge no matter where I moved outside of Los Angeles. Bitter cold was out of the question. Coming from LA, I realize that I’d been used to four to five months of summer, May to October, and then 80°+F / 27°C on random days sprinkled throughout the “winter.” It’s funny that I never thought the summers were short when I was a kid in New York. The winters in Paris are nothing like New York. Those winters were agonizing, and at the same time, it was all I knew. I guess it’s the same here in Paris; it is what it is at the end of the day.

Are there aspects of American life that you long for?
I visit enough to get my fix, but there are definitely things I miss, such as my community of friends. I have met some incredible and lovely people, but the deep friendships, those I have back in the U.S. And honestly, here, I have been a bit wanting. Luckily, Paris is a place my people want to visit.

What book or movie do you most associate with the American experience abroad?
I’ve always carried within me a part of the European experience throughout my life, through my summers with my grandmother in Switzerland and my mother in the U.S. But maybe Julia Child’s My Life in France, which is such a fun book. I’ve read that James Baldwin’s Notes of a Native Son is a must; I will dive into that next.

If you had to narrow it down to one, what is the greatest lesson living abroad has taught you about yourself and the world?
Adapt. Be mindful of the cultural cues and how they present themselves. Be true to yourself, but also mindful not to expect the same in a foreign city, whether it be Paris or Prague.

Have you ever considered going back? (Why or why not)
I’ve only been here for a little over two years, so no, I haven’t considered going back. Sure, it can be challenging, especially when you see how the world is unfolding, but I feel that my journey is just getting started.

For those contemplating leaving the U.S., what do you suggest they consider most about the decision?
Do a dry run. Rent a place. Sure, everyone wants to move to Paris when they’re here on vacation— it’s warm, it’s sunny, or ahhh, the leaves are starting to change, it’s brisk and sunny. Yum! A city on highlight reel. One doesn’t plan a vacation thinking, “Hmm, when is the city at its most crappy, cold, and rainy?” I was most concerned about the winter, so I rented a place here from January to the end of April. I wanted to see Paris at her worst and watch her unfurl into her best. Et voilà!

Also, brush up on your language skills and understand that we, especially Americans, have a tendency of bringing our cultural norms and expectations. If imposed, that can be rude and disrespectful.

ADDITIONAL READING

The United States experienced negative net migration in 2025, with more people leaving than arriving for the first time in 90 years (and it’s not only for political reasons). (WSJ/The Independent)

American violence is pushing families to think about leaving (NYT)

+ My essay in Issue 13 of The Bitter Southerner on this topic— releasing this month! Subscribe to get your copy.

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Click here to read all previous Leaving America questionnaires. If you think a friend would enjoy The New Paris Dispatch, gift subscriptions are available here.

The first Leaving America conversation of 2026 comes after a whirlwind of destabilizing and violent events in the first weeks of the year, reigniting the discussion online of do we or don’t we leave if we can. I am in the midst of closing a long, reported essay for The Bitter Southerner (coming out in March!) around the broader theme of leaving —what it means, why Americans have always done so, and how it feels in this particular moment—so the arguments for and against leaving are fresh. This series, as you've seen, doesn’t merely address the geopolitical motivations that have prompted Americans to leave, although that does play a role, and I intend to continue highlighting the diversity of reasons pushing people abroad because, ultimately, it presents a realistic picture of the American diaspora. However, I have included relevant, recent articles at the end of this newsletter that speak to the urgency of this particular moment.

What I appreciated about Drew Lombardi, today’s interview, from our emailing about this series was his honesty about how challenging the last eight years have been for him in Paris. As he put it, his story has not been one of ‘moved to Paris and lived happily ever after’. “It has been excruciating at points —the place has made me feel angry and dejected countless times.” His story isn’t uncommon, yet as we’ve seen, it’s the embellished stories that gloss over reality that get the most traction online. As you’ll see below, he’s honest about the economic, social and linguistic struggles, about the slow path to adapting, and to quote queen Rihanna, about finding love in a hopeless place.

Where was the last place you lived in the U.S.?
New York City. I left in 2017.

Did you intend to leave permanently or was the move temporary?
Temporary. The first week I was in Paris, I asked someone on the street for directions in broken French. The woman turned out to be American and we chatted for a minute. I told her my plan was to get my master’s degree and return to New York immediately after to resume my career path there. She said that had been her plan too, but that was 20 years ago. She predicted the same would happen to me, and so far, she was right.

Was there a pivotal moment when you knew your life would be best pursued elsewhere?
In April 2016, I blew out my knee in a freak accident playing basketball, tearing multiple ligaments and cracking my femur. I was on the couch 24/7 for the entire summer with nothing to do but think about life and follow the presidential campaign. I used the time to research master’s degrees in Europe in my field of urban policy, taught in English. My life in New York was fine, but I always had dreams of returning to Europe since my semester abroad in Prague in 2011, and I had nothing tying me down. The night Trump won clinched it. I declared that night, somewhat inebriated in the saddest bar in Brooklyn, that I was moving to Paris.

What sort of financial consideration did the move require, even if as a student initially? Does one need a plump savings account to make this work?
Money was a huge struggle for me at first, especially as a guy in his mid-20s who got used to a steady income while working in New York and had been reverted to student status. I grossly underestimated how much money I’d need – partly due to long delays in receiving my student loans thanks to the notoriously challenging task of opening a French bank account as a foreigner.

I recommend having at least $3-5K saved because emergencies and obstacles will come up and mistakes will be made. I learned the hard way that money in Europe is simply not as ‘liquid’ as in the US. Finding a job and getting paid can take a while. Americans probably would not believe my stories about how hard it is to open a bank account here, or how hard it can be to access your own money stored in a bank here due to regulations. These rules are in many ways very good, coming with more consumer protections than in the US, but it can be frustrating if you’re unaware of them.

Eating on a shoestring budget was not an issue, and getting around Paris can be done cheaply since it is so walkable. My Achilles heel was housing. I started looking for housing options online even before I left New York, and yet I spent my first semester moving into (and then quickly out of) terrible, overpriced chambres de bonnes and couchsurfing. There was one point I seriously considered sleeping in the metro station close to school while I fought to open a bank account where my student loans could finally land.

At what age did you leave? Looking back, was that too soon or too late?
I left New York at age 26. In a cosmic sense, I don’t believe in too early or too late – I think things happen when we’re ready and the universe is ready. But practically speaking, I found out once I arrived that you are entitled to a whole slew of student discounts including for museums, public transport, and more I’m sure—up until 26. if I had arrived a year earlier, I may have been able to scrimp more savings while enjoying life around town that first year.

When did you know you'd made the right [or wrong] call?
My relationship with Paris and France has been complicated. The first few years I wondered consistently whether I had made a huge mistake and thrown away a decent situation in New York. I was as broke at the time I finished my master’s degree at age 28 as I was when I finished my bachelor’s at age 22, and there was this creeping fear I had gone backwards. I came to Paris speaking virtually no French, and it turns out I am a slow study with languages, so integration has been a struggle. My master’s was so intense that there was little time for the cliched ‘flemmarding’ in cafes and bars that I thought I’d be doing most of the time.

I found a job after graduating in 2019 but went through a breakup during Covid and seriously considered leaving. But I had fought so hard through the difficult times that I felt I wanted to give Paris a chance with some money in my pocket post-pandemic, and try to establish my own relationship with it independent from my ex.

I knew I made the right call when I met my now wife through a mutual friend. We spent all summer of 2022 (the first time that things felt truly back to normal) exploring the city, taking day trips on our bikes, picnicking late into the night. That summer was magical, and it was worth the wait.

What does Paris offer you that your native home couldn’t and, perhaps, still can’t?
Once in a while, my mom will ask me when I will move back. I tell her that I’ll consider it once the U.S. has universal healthcare, reasonable college tuition, a strict ban on guns that eliminates mass shootings, and quality public transport. So, likely not any time soon, although I hope to be wrong.

Paris is walkable. It has an unparalleled density of cultural programming and activity. I’ve lived here 8 years now and every weekend that I go wandering in the streets I stumble on a shop, restaurant, square, or park I never knew existed.

It’s also within a short trip to hundreds of amazing places in Europe that are all unique. When I picture moving back to the U.S. and trying to plan a vacation to Europe with 10-15 vacation days a year (compared to 30 now) and an overnight flight (compared to a 2-hour flight or train ride), I can’t stomach it.

I love New York. I was not in a bubble in New York—I studied there and worked in local government there and was really in the trenches of the city. I don’t regret a second I spent there and I refuse to compare them outright. But there is something about the energy, intellectual stimulation, social programs, and location of Paris that is unrivaled.

Can you share any anecdotes about your highest and lowest moments in Paris?
Let’s start low and finish high.

A real low point was when I tried to move all my earthly possessions from my friend’s house in the 19^th to my new apartment in Boulogne by public transit, since I couldn’t afford an Uber. I was lugging two suitcases, a duffel bag and a trash bag of clothes, riding one tram to the terminus and transferring to the next, trying to make it all the way around the edge of the city. The trash bag burst while on the second tram and my stuff scattered all over the ground. I wanted to just take my other bags and go right to the airport and fly home.

The only thing lower than that was celebrating my 30^th birthday during Covid lockdown in my friend’s apartment where I was crashing a week after breaking up with my ex.

But there is only one obvious high point: marrying my wife in the Mairie du 19^eme. It felt like the culmination of all my time here. When I proposed to my wife I told her that I was grateful for everything I had been through, because it had led me to her. I am so lucky to have met her and it meant everything to celebrate it in the neighborhood that (eventually) became my home. We only invited immediate family and mine had never visited me in Paris, so we spent the week showing them all that Paris (and our neighborhood) has to offer. Long before we were together, I always loved walking up to that Mairie, and Les Buttes Chaumont is easily my favorite park in Paris. I visit a few times a week, and it was a truly incredible thing to take our wedding photos there together with our families.

Are there aspects of American life that you long for?
Being from New England, I am an avid Boston sports fan, and I really miss connecting with my family, friends, and strangers over American sports. When Europeans try to make conversation with me about sports and I confess I don’t follow football (soccer) too closely, they always ask me, “Oh, you don’t like sports?” I love sports, my family is obsessed with sports, but I just have not succeeded in getting into soccer so far.

Watching games on replay in the morning when everyone back home is sleeping, avoiding text threads so the results don’t get spoiled for me, is hard. Missing the Celtics parade in Boston when they won the NBA championship in 2024 and everyone I know being there but me was... alot. The idea that my kid may not grow up playing baseball (which has little to no traction in Europe compared to basketball) bothers me.

I also really miss greasy spoon diners.

What book or movie do you most associate with the American experience abroad?
The Before series (Before Midnight, Before Sunrise, Before Sunset), directed by Richard Linklater, really moved me and made me fantasize about moving to Paris before I got here. I think it captures the romance – not just between men and women, but the romanticism – of drifting along in Paris, untethered from the work- and outcome-obsessed American mindset and letting life flow.

If you had to narrow it down to one, what is the greatest lesson living abroad has taught you about yourself and the world?
Whether it was finding an apartment, getting a job, or learning French, I learned that anything is possible if you don’t give up. I’m sorry to sound cliché but that’s exactly what I learned. If you hang in there, eventually you’ll catch a break. Someone once told me “don’t quit before the miracle happens.” There were many points (see above) where giving up on my effort to make it here would have been perfectly rational. But now, when I successfully deliver a professional presentation in French and think nothing of it, I have to take a second to be like, Holy shit, remember how you once found it impossible to order a croissant in French?

About the world: honestly the greatest lesson I learned about the world is that America is not #1 at anything except gun violence, obesity, and economic inequality among OECD countries. I have been humbled as an American over and over during my time abroad because of a set of preconceived notions and assumptions that nearly all Americans have hardwired into them. I have learned to respect the aptitude, history, culture, and perspective of people from other countries in a way I don’t think is truly possible until living abroad. I think many Americans believe they respect the rest of the world, but once you live in another country (which also thinks highly of itself), you realize how much unconscious bias you have.

Have you ever considered going back? (Why or why not)
I miss my family. I consider going back to be closer to my parents, my brother, and my nephews. Missing Thanksgiving is really hard, because unlike Christmas, it is uniquely American. I miss watching sports live with my family, yelling at the TV together in the same room.

Family is very important to me and it is painful for me to live so far away from them and see them so little. But so far, I’d like to think I’ve done well at going home for extended periods and making my time with them count. If I am able to continue to go home for a few weeks at a time and spend quality time with them while living here, I will continue to do so.

For those contemplating leaving the U.S., what do you suggest they consider most about the decision?
This is not Emily in Paris! Especially if you move to Paris. I can’t vouch for moving to other big cities or other countries, but for me, Paris felt like playing study abroad on expert mode. Are you OK with struggling to communicate, being broke, being confused and lonely, most of the time and for a while? Are you OK with forfeiting the progress you’ve made in your career in the U.S. so far, knowing that relocating here would likely require a lateral move or even a step back? Are you OK with being at a linguistic disadvantage in virtually every conversation you have? Are you really OK with adapting to a new way of life—a new speed at work, on sidewalks, at restaurants —or are you looking for American life and American culture set against the backdrop of Paris? When you are on your deathbed, are you going to regret not having at least tried it? That’s how I decided. I pictured myself on my deathbed, thinking about how I never lived outside of the country, and it made me sick to my stomach.

And most importantly, are you willing to watch your favorite team on tape delay?

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ADDITIONAL READING

Some US citizens, grappling with issues from LGBTQ+ rights to the economy, are looking to the countries their families once left behind (The Guardian)

In the wake of President Trump’s reelection, the number of aggrieved Americans seeking a new life abroad appears to be rising. The Netherlands offers one way out. (The New Yorker)

Fear, abuse and eroding rights have forced many trans people to leave the US – can they claim asylum in the Netherlands? (The Guardian)

When is it time to flee? (The New Republic)

Click here to read all previous Leaving America questionnaires. If you think a friend would enjoy The New Paris Dispatch, gift subscriptions are available here.

For the last edition of this series for 2025 (more than a year after I started it!), I’m thrilled to speak with Farah Alimi. The Damascus-born, Paris-based artist ultimately left the United States for a reason that hasn’t yet been discussed here: to inch closer to her homeland. I first met Farah at Sobremesa, a wonderful wine bar in the 18th arrondissement that has regularly hosted her friend Shan Rachel Jiang as a chef in residence. Then, I kept running into her at Paramaz, a leather goods workshop-coffee shop-boutique we both love. Today, she joins me here to offer her story of leaving the U.S.

Where was the last place you lived in the U.S.?
Greenpoint, New York

Did you intend to leave permanently or was the move temporary?
I always knew, deep down, that New York was never meant to be my final destination. As painful as it was to leave, I understood when the moment arrived that it was time. The decision didn’t come all at once. I needed to test the waters first, to breathe somewhere new. Marseille was that threshold. I had visited the south once before, and my last stop was Marseille. The moment I stepped into its streets, tears slid down my cheeks, it was an indescribable feeling, as though I were visiting Damascus. I felt at home. The chaos, the humbleness of the city, it all resonated with me. I fell in love right then and there and promised myself I would return and stay for a while.

At the time, in 2016, Damascus, like the rest of Syria, was in a heartbreakingly fragile state, so the closest and most familiar city for me was Marseille. I was grateful to have found such a place. It felt like a gift, a moment that taught me patience and prepared me for the time I would eventually return to my birth city. Even now, I can still feel the quiet weight of that experience and how profoundly it shaped me. I knew I had to be in the south before making my way to Paris, to inch closer to home. That, more than anything else, was the reason.

Was there a pivotal moment when you knew your life would be best pursued elsewhere?
Yes, absolutely. I needed to live, to truly enjoy my time, instead of constantly working and hustling while life rushed past me. I was craving a life of quality. I didn’t fully know what I was stepping into then, but I chose to go for it anyway.

What sort of financial consideration did the move require, even if as a student initially? Does one need a plump savings account to make this work?
I was privileged to have had steady work that allowed me to save a solid amount of money before making my big move. Before fully committing to the decision, I took two important steps. I spent three months in Marseille during the holidays, from Thanksgiving through mid-January, to see if I was strong enough to handle being completely on my own, without family. I also took time to understand the financial reality of Europe, which was, and still is very different from New York. In many ways, life here is far more affordable.

Prior to COVID, I began working in wardrobe for film and television productions in Marseille, primarily on American projects. I continued working in wardrobe there until late 2021, after leaving fashion and New York behind, when I was still figuring out my direction. What eventually brought me to Paris was a job—ironically, a show that somehow connected back to fashion: The New Look, about Christian Dior, Coco Chanel, and Dior’s sister Catherine, a resistance fighter. I owe so much to Allyx Seaman, Thomas McCarthy, Rae Baron, and Karen Miller Serreau, whose guidance and support helped make a career like this possible for me.

At what age did you leave? Looking back, was that too soon or too late?
I left at 27, nearly nine years ago. It was the right time to make the move, and I wouldn’t have had it any other way. I’m truly thankful.

When did you know you'd made the right [or wrong] call?
Despite missing my family and friends, and despite how difficult the first two years were, I quickly realized it was the right call. I was learning a new language, discovering a new culture, and living in an almost 40m² apartment with rent so low it would be impossible in the States, all just a short walk from the Mediterranean. Even then, I was a happy camper, always grateful. And of course, moving to Paris after four years was the cherry on top. I moved for work, and I couldn’t have been happier to start a new chapter in a city I had always imagined would be a part of my life. Funny how life works.

What does Paris offer you that your native home couldn’t and, perhaps, still can’t?
I was just thinking about this a few weeks ago. Paris is charming in many ways, but one charm I especially appreciate is how, no matter how fast-paced the city can feel, it always makes time to pause and relax. It nudges you to slow down and savor life. At first, I found it a bit strange, like the unhurried pace at restaurants, but then I realized it was for my own good. Another thing I love is the accessibility of fresh produce and healthcare.

Can you share any anecdotes about your highest and lowest moments in Paris?
It’s hard to pick just one highest or lowest moment, so here’s a glimpse of a few that stand out. One of my highest moments was having my art show, Before and After Damascus, this past April with Atelier 505. It came shortly after a trip to Damascus, my first in twenty years, which may very well be another high point in itself.

Another incredible high point was collaborating with PARAMAZ, painting directly on their leather. It was such a meaningful moment to work with a brand that shares the same values of traditional craftsmanship, offering their leather for me to paint on, and eventually to have those pieces incorporated into their gorgeous bags. That opportunity was both humbling and inspiring, and it remains one of my proudest achievements.

I’ve also had two particularly low moments. The first was when there was an issue with my carte de séjour during the renewal process. I couldn’t leave the country for months, and after a long period of uncertainty and back-and-forth, I finally received it for ten years, which, of course, became another high point. The second low moment came in Paris, when I struggled to find an apartment. It was an incredibly challenging time, but with the help of friends, I eventually found a solution that worked.

Are there aspects of American life that you long for?

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I don’t know how many Americ…

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One path to living abr…

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What happens when you’ve spent more than a decade in an adopted home, decide to start splitting time in the U.S. to be closer to loved ones, and homeland turmoil shifts everything? Shepherd, a former English teacher who now focuses full-time on her luxury shopping concierge business and consulting American women, particularly Black women, on establishing residency in Paris (and thriving once they arrive), is currently experiencing that very existential crisis. Below, the creator of Paris Chic Code shares her highs, lows, and current uncertainties.

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Where was the last place you lived in the U.S.?
New York City.

Did you intend to leave permanently or was the move temporary?
I intended to move for 6 months to a year. When I first arrived in Paris, I sourced a teaching gig on Craigslist—remember them? I taught conversational English classes for €400 a month, if you can believe that. That little side hustle eventually became a full-time cadre CDI (full-time contract) at a Grande École. It took me nearly two years to earn that CDI. I started working under the table, then graduated to a CDD (temporary contract), and finally secured the stability of a CDI with the same company. I stayed with them for eight years.

Was there a pivotal moment when you knew your life would be best pursued elsewhere?
There wasn’t one defining moment. But after spending a year in Paris, studying French and working, I realized my life felt lighter than the constant grind of New York. Growing up in the Bay Area, I had been sheltered inside a liberal bubble. Moving to New York exposed me to harsh realities—stark inequality, classism, and the sharp divide between the haves and the have-nots. Paris gave me a different kind of ease.

What sort of financial consideration did the move require, even if as a student initially? Does one need a plump savings account to make this work?
I had nothing saved, and I still made it work. I figured it out along the way. For my clients, I always stress that it depends on their lifestyle. When I moved to Paris at 33, finishing my degree, I didn’t need much. Now, at 45, my needs and standards are higher, so I would approach it differently. But the truth is: moving to Paris is absolutely possible without a massive savings account.

At what age did you leave? Looking back, was that too soon or too late?
I moved at 33. In hindsight, I wish I had shifted my timeline earlier. I should have moved to New York at 21 instead of 28, Paris at 30 instead of 33, and back to the States part-time at 40 instead of 44.

When did you know you'd made the right [or wrong] call?
I knew I had made the right call when I recognized the privilege I carried as a Black American woman in France. For the first time in my life, I was simply an American—not a hyphenated Black American. In France, I experience the same global privileges afforded to white women. I can just be. I can take up space unapologetically. I also recognize, though, that my experience as a Black American woman is not the same as that of Black French women, who do not enjoy the same privileges.

What does Paris offer you that your native home couldn’t and, perhaps, still can’t?
Everything I mentioned above, plus: job security, universal healthcare, six weeks of vacation, and the South of France.

Can you share any anecdotes about your highest and lowest moments in Paris?
My highest moments have come through my work as a personal shopper—being invited to exclusive events and treated with a level of respect and privilege that comes with a cost in the States. Walking into luxury boutiques, restaurants, or cafés, the red carpet is often rolled out for me. Once, while shopping with a client, she pointed out how respected I was everywhere we went. She was right—it’s a different reality. In the U.S., Black Americans are too often dismissed, ignored, or treated as nuisances.

About five years into my life in Paris, fresh from a breakup with the man I thought I would marry, I created Penniless in Paris. It was a blog about finding my footing in the City of Light, highlighting my single life and my attempts to figure it all out. During those early years, one of my biggest mistakes was not building a network for myself. All of my friends were my partner’s friends, and when the relationship ended, so did those friendships. Not creating my own community remains one of my biggest regrets. I’m an extrovert; meeting people comes easily to me, but back then, I failed to do it until I had no choice. So some of my lowest moments were the times I felt the loneliness of Paris, without my family or the close friends who ground me.

Are there aspects of American life that you long for?
Black Americanness. Black women. The Black church. My family. Life abroad can be deeply lonely. While I have an American community in France, I need the presence of Black Americans. I can’t do life without them.

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It's Not Just You

So, you want to leave the U.S.?

Hello! It’s Not Just You is a free weekly(ish) newsletter which I write from Paris, but not always about Paris. A warm welcome to all you new subscribers…

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8 months ago · 47 likes · 33 comments · Susanna Schrobsdorff

One way many Americans have landed in Paris, at least since the early 20th century, is through teaching. Janet Skeslien Charles was an English teacher and teaching assistant in France long before she became known as a bestselling novelist with titles such as The Paris Library, Miss Morgan’s Book Brigade, and her latest audiobook, The Paris Chapter. It hasn’t been an easy road, as she so honestly tells it below, but it has been rewarding and filled with community.

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Where was the last place you lived in the U.S.?
I last lived in Missoula, where I took graduate classes and taught French 101 at the University of Montana. I’d just returned from Odesa, where I’d taught English at a local high school from 1994-1996. It was an incredible experience, and I missed my friends and the excitement of living there. As a full-time teacher in Ukraine, I’d made $25 a month. It wasn’t exactly a viable future, so I returned home to Montana. I was 26 years old and had no idea what I was doing with my life.

Did you intend to leave permanently or was the move temporary?
In 1998, I came to France for a school year. I’d applied to a French program for teaching assistants. (This program started in 1905 and is still open to people aged 20-35 today.) I was offered a job in Mulhouse, in Alsace. I booked a ticket to the local airport, but that flight was canceled because of an Air France strike. I was put on a plane to Charles de Gaulle Airport. That first day in Paris, I met Eddy, my future husband.

Was there a pivotal moment when you knew your life would be best pursued elsewhere?
In rural Montana, I always felt that my life was out there waiting for me. The things I wanted were different than the things that the people around me wanted. I wanted the big city, lots of choices, noise, and cultural activities. I wanted to travel and to speak foreign languages. Now that I’m older, I long for the quiet of the countryside; however, I could not have written my four novels if I had not moved abroad. As a writer, at heart, I am interested in journeys, the transitions we go through, the way that we react to change, whether it be marriage or divorce, a new job or getting fired, having children or not, breaking up with a friend, having cancer or Covid, or moving to a new country.

What sort of financial consideration did the move require, even if as a student initially? Does one need a plump savings account to make this work?
Back in Montana, a coworker and I were both accepted into the French teaching assistant program. He had a chronic health condition and decided not to take the job because he worried about medical costs. (If only we’d known that he would have had coverage through the job.) All this to say that I was fortunate not to have considered medical issues.

My monthly salary for twelve hours a week in Mulhouse was $750. To supplement this income, I gave private lessons.

A French student, a German teaching assistant, and I shared a small apartment with no living room, only a communal kitchen. It was well maintained; the landlords were a lovely retired couple. My roommates and I only had a landline phone. We didn’t have a television or a car. We rarely ate out. I grew up reading about Simone de Beauvoir, who lived in small hotel rooms in Paris, and Christopher Isherwood, who rented a room in a woman’s Berlin apartment. So with my living arrangement, I felt like I was following in their footsteps. It was a special year. I loved my roommates, students, and coworkers. We could take the bus or train to Germany or Switzerland for the day.

I moved to Paris in 1999 and got another job as a teaching assistant. It was a short-term work contract (CDD) instead of an open-ended one (CDI). When Eddy and I applied for apartments, my income was never considered, as if I didn’t even exist. It was frustrating.

To be a teacher in the French system, you must pass a difficult competitive exam, which includes translating from French to English and English to French. In 1999, exactly 6027 students signed up to take the exam, for only 1270 available positions. (The French keep excellent statistics.1) I didn’t think I could have passed, so I continued as an assistant rather than a teacher, and wrote stories about Odesa. This seems normal. Most creatives I know have two jobs. Tour guide and journalist. Website designer and editor. Writer and teacher. Bookseller and author. Thankfully, my superpower seems to be taking low-paying jobs and turning them into bestselling novels.

At what age did you leave? Looking back, was that too soon or too late?
I arrived in France when I was 27. It was a good age because I was still very optimistic and energetic. I’d had some work experience and had enough confidence in myself.

When did you know you'd made the right [or wrong] call?
When I realized I had married someone who understands how much work it takes to write. Long before I was published, he treated my writing like a full-time job, not some hobby. Second, when I met my writing group, I finally felt more at home in Paris. That made all the difference.

What does Paris offer you that your native home couldn’t and, perhaps, still can’t
Choices. There are so many choices. Maybe it is not so much a difference between America and France, but between rural and city.

A glass of champagne in a corner café.

People here can debate and still get along. I’ve seen my husband and brother-in-law have loud arguments one day, and the next, they are able to talk and joke.

As a writer, I pay attention to words. Here in France, you often hear the word solidaire. I appreciate how people come together here and have empathy for others. I’m sorry to say that in America, we do not often talk about “solidarity.” Unfortunately, many people didn’t have a problem with Trump until they were personally affected by his decrees. I am heartened by the recent protests.

Can you share any anecdotes about your highest and lowest moments in Paris?
Lowest professional moments: I had trouble getting a long-term job. Despite my best efforts, I remained a teaching assistant for seven long years. My coworkers viewed me as someone who would only be here for a few months, so they weren’t interested in getting to know me. Each year, I worked in three schools (often in different arrondissements) and gave countless private lessons. I spent more time below ground in the metro than above ground. Commuting and being on the run almost every hour of the workday was exhausting. I spent my spare time writing my novel and applying for jobs.

Since I was in my early thirties, French interviewers often asked about my plans for having a family. One even told me she wished I were “past the child-bearing years.” Finally, I landed an interview for the advertised role of Public Relations Coordinator at an American organization. During the meeting, I was informed that the position title had been changed to PR Assistant. I howled, “I cannot remain an assistant forever!” No surprise, I didn’t get the job.

Happy professional moments: When my first novel was published in the U.S. and UK, and when it was translated into French. I so enjoyed working with the editor and translator. The book won a few small literary prizes here and in England, and I was invited to several literary festivals in Paris, Bordeaux, Macon, Cognac, and even Tahiti. My husband and I did a literary tour de France. It was a great way to see the country.

This spring, I spoke at the Belleville library founded by Jessie Carson, the real-life heroine of my latest novel. In northern France during World War I, this NYPL librarian was hired by the American Committee for Devastated France to create libraries for families who’d lost their homes and livelihoods. At the time, books were the only form of entertainment or escape. After the war, Jessie transformed ambulances into bookmobiles. It is an incredible honor to share her story and to present my work at the library where she once stood.

Are there aspects of American life that you long for?
I’ve missed many milestones of loved ones, and wish I could have been there for them.

On a day-to-day basis, I miss moments of small talk, warmth, and connection with strangers. I miss the creativity and openness. In France, there is often only one perceived way to do something.

I also miss good customer service.

What book or movie do you most associate with the American experience abroad?
Lost in Translation with Bill Murray and Scarlett Johansson. It conveys so well the feeling of being lost in life and feeling like you don’t understand. It also shows the tight friendships that form when you are out of your depth.

If you had to narrow it down to one, what is the greatest lesson living abroad has taught you about yourself and the world?
Even though I speak French, I have struggled here, personally and professionally. I try to remind myself that we can take things easy or we can take them hard. We have to be patient with ourselves. So much comes down to chance. An Air France strike changed the trajectory of my life. There is so much that we do not control. We just have to do the best we can, with what we know, at any given time.

Have you ever considered going back? (Why or why not)

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I often wonder how my life would have unfolded if my physical exposure to France had begun earlier than late adolescence. Would I have chosen Paris? Would I have applied to university here, right from the start? Would it have changed anything other than create an even older and more enduring connection to the country? These are some of the questions that came to mind when I was reading about journalist and Becoming French author Phineas Rueckert’s experiences, below.

Where was the last place you lived in the U.S.?
Brooklyn, New York.

I was born in New York, and grew up between New York and Washington D.C. I spent childhood summers in Paris while my mom taught a study abroad course for Hunter College so I spoke the language and was introduced to French culture from an early age. After graduating from college in 2015, France was a natural choice for me. I moved to Toulouse, in the south of France, and taught English for a year as part of the TAPIF program. There, I saw a different part of the country and experienced France on my own for the first time. At the end of the school year, I returned to New York and worked for a couple of years, but my eyes were set on returning to France. Soon after, I applied to graduate school at Sciences Po, and in 2018, I moved here again– this time for good.

Did you intend to leave permanently or was the move temporary?
Technically, I moved to Paris for a two-year graduate school program, after which point I was supposed to move back to New York. But I think in my heart I knew that I wanted to stay in Paris; I was just in denial.

Was there a pivotal moment when you knew your life would be best pursued elsewhere?
I’ve recently been reading through old journals. In the summer of 2019, I had just spent a couple of months in New York for an internship at a local newspaper and had arrived back to Paris for my second year of graduate school. It was a difficult time for me. I had just ended a four-year relationship, and spent my summer couchsurfing in one of the most expensive cities in the world. I returned to Paris in early summer, and in that moment, I felt like the weight of my existence had shifted, away from the States and towards France. I wrote at the time: “We seem to have this misplaced notion that your real life has to be lived where you were born. For me, it doesn’t feel that way. My real life is where I [chose to live]…This whole summer, it was New York – and not Paris – that felt like the interlude.”

What sort of financial consideration did the move require, even if as a student initially? Does one need a plump savings account to make this work?
I moved to Paris with a few thousand dollars in savings, a few steady freelance gigs and an academic scholarship that significantly defrayed my university costs. The first year I lived at the Cité Universitaire in the 14th arrondissement and must have paid around 500 euros in rent. My window didn’t overlook the Seine, but the péripherique ring road, and I shared a kitchen with messy undergrads, so I was immediately dispelled of any romantic notions of life in Paris.

At what age did you leave? Looking back, was that too soon or too late?
I left New York a few weeks after my 25th birthday. I think it was the right time for me. Sometimes I wish I had moved to France for undergrad, but I’m happy to have had the traditional American liberal arts college experience (at Macalester College in St. Paul, Minnesota). I’m also glad I lived in New York for a couple of years as an adult. Throughout my life, Paris and New York have always been jostling one another for position. I recently saw an old high school friend, and she reminded me that as a teenager in DC I was always saying that my dream was to live in New York. New York gave me life skills, experiences and friendships I couldn’t have had in Paris, at a time (my early 20s) when I needed them, but towards the end I was gasping for air, exhausted by the noise, the dirtiness, the constant social life and the outrageous prices.

When did you know you'd made the right [or wrong] call?
I very vividly remember walking across the Pont de la Tournelle on one of those late August nights when I first arrived in 2018, looking down at the yellow lights of the city reflected onto the jet black river and feeling completely at peace in a way I never had in New York City or Washington D.C. In that moment I knew that I had made the right call.

What does Paris offer you that your native home couldn’t and, perhaps, still can’t?
French people often scoff at me when I say this, but Paris offered me tranquility. I love that you can spend all afternoon at a café nursing a small coffee while reading a book. I love the parks and the quays of the river—these spaces where all of Paris life comes together. Paris is a walking city, and walking is how I process my thoughts. In the book I’m currently reading, Walking on the Ceiling by Ayşegül Savaş, the two main characters strike up a friendship and deal with grief over walks through Paris. In New York, you can walk for an hour and you’re still in the same neighborhood. In Paris, you can walk for an hour and end up in a different world, or a different century.

Can you share any anecdotes about your highest and lowest moments in Paris?
I haven’t spoken much about my day job, but I’ve worked as a journalist for the past five years at Forbidden Stories, a French journalism non-profit focusing on press freedom issues. For much of the spring of 2021, I worked on a top-secret investigation into spyware abuse. I couldn’t tell my partner, my parents or my friends about what I was working on for those months. In July 2021, we released the Pegasus Project a day before my 27th birthday. The investigation revealed how the phones of top French politicians, including Emmanuel Macron and several ministers, were allegedly tapped by the Kingdom of Morocco. That week was crazy for me: suddenly, our work was on the front page of Le Monde, The Washington Post, The Guardian, and so on. I was interviewed on both French and Indian national television. By the end of the week, my colleagues and I were sleep-deprived, exhausted, and unimaginably wired so we meandered down to the Seine on a Friday evening. It was the first real week of summer, and the first real summer since the COVID-19 lockdown, and an impromptu dance party was in full swing on the quays. We joined the party and danced until late in the night, feeling young and free for the first time in a long time.

That rambunctious energy contrasts with the months-long depression that was the previous winter. While France fully locked down between March and May of 2020, during the winter of 2020-2021, authorities installed a 6 p.m. curfew across Paris. Workplaces were open, but bars, restaurants, art galleries, and other cultural institutions were not. My partner and I would stand at her window on the rue de Charenton in the 12th—usually a bustling area—and stare out at the empty street while sometimes sharing a sad cigarette. While it was the perfect opportunity for catching up on EVERY SINGLE French cult film (Asterix & Obelix: Mission Cleopatra, La Chèvre, Les Bronzés Font du Ski, etc.) it wasn’t the stimulating, culturally rich Paris I had come to know and love.

Are there aspects of American life that you long for?
Apart from bagels, which is mostly a New York thing, I do miss the openness of America and Americans. I mean this in both a physical and an interpersonal sense. I went to college in the midwest, surrounded, to the south, by the golden cornfields and enormous skies of Iowa and, to the north, the endless pine forests of northern Minnesota. When I go back to the United States, I feel small. Sometimes, this smallness is overwhelming, but in other ways, it’s liberating: you can feel yourself expanding with the space.

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When I started this series, I knew I wanted to feature two of the whip smart writers that I had the chance to spend time with in the fall of 2023 when we were all speakers at the inaugural Angers Literary Festival. That started with Jake Lamar and continues today with Kate Gavino, a talented writer and illustrator whose dry-wit humor makes me want to read everything and anything she puts out into the world. The new book she’s working on is, in her words, part rom-com, part ghost story. It's a graphic novel about a woman who meets her mom's ghost on the New York subway, and they strike up a friendship as her mom's ghost helps her navigate her love life. I’m sold! She has been writing this book from her perch in the 15th arrondissement where she lives with her husband and two young kids— as you’ll discover below.

Where was the last place you lived in the U.S.? 
Brooklyn, New York. I grew up in Houston, Texas.

Did you intend to leave permanently or was the move temporary?
I moved here in 2018 after Dustin, my then-boyfriend-now-husband, got a job at a French start-up. Paris was the only city we could agree on living in together. I loved New York; he hated it. He wanted to live out in the country, surrounded by nature; I considered any city without at least three dim sum options too provincial. So Paris it was—and we had no immediate plans to move back or anywhere else.

Was there a pivotal moment when you knew your life would be best pursued elsewhere?
No. As a kid, I had dreamed of living in New York the same way some people dream of living in Paris. I can’t roll my eyes at any would-be Emilies in Paris because that’s how I felt about New York in my twenties. (Yes, I did indeed read that Joan Didion essay at an impressionable age.)

But I think everyone hits a point, even in their dream city, where they think, “What am I doing here?” And suddenly every negative thing about your city intensifies to a cartoonish degree. I remember I was having a bad day at work, and while leaving the subway, a woman (for no reason) smacked me in the head. I came home and dramatically declared, “Okay, let’s get the hell out of here.”

I enjoy living in Paris and consider it my home, and at the same time, I really miss New York. I think the older I get, the more normal it becomes to want two opposing things at the same time.

What sort of financial consideration did the move require, even as a student initially? Does one need a plump savings account to make this work?
I always had a full-time office job, but I quit that to move here. I had just received my advance for my second book, and I had a steady freelance social media gig that (most importantly) always paid me on time. I also began doing freelance illustration when I moved here, reaching out to every single person I have ever interacted with for work.

I couldn’t deal with the hours of freelancing where I had to simply wait for emails, so I began walking dogs as well. For a while, I was walking three or four dogs a day across multiple arrondissements. This also led me to becoming a nounou for a time. The kids were sweet, but honestly, I preferred the dogs.

At what age did you leave? Looking back, was that too soon or too late?
I was 30 when I moved here. For me, it was a fine age since I was more than ready to be somewhat of a hermit, working on my books all day and just moving slower in general. However, I didn't take into account the constant stress regarding making money and learning a new language, so that idyllic writer's life didn't exactly pan out. Oh, and there was also a global pandemic, so yeah, I had to adjust that plan considerably.

When did you know you'd made the right [or wrong] call?
If you can't tell from my answers so far, I have a fraught love-hate relationship with Paris. But all my garden variety complaints about the city don't change the fact that I chose to live and start my family here, and I do feel grateful for that privilege.

In 2022, my third book came out shortly after my second kid was born. At the time, I felt like I had been a shut-in for so long, having spent most of lockdown and the pandemic twice pregnant and too scared to leave the hermetically sealed bubble of our apartment. I had forgotten how to be out in the world.

Despite this, I still had a book launch event at Red Wheelbarrow Bookstore. It was a cozy, delightful afternoon, and when I looked out in the small crowd and saw my husband, two kids, my parents who were visiting, and my friends who I have made since moving here, I felt like I was a part of the city, a part of the world again, for the first time in a long time.

What does Paris offer you that your native home couldn’t and, perhaps, still can’t?
It's a wonderful city in which to be pregnant and have a baby. For both of my pregnancies, I got excellent care at Port-Royal and Necker. I got lengthy (from an American perspective—don't come at me, Danes) maternity leaves from my office jobs at the time. I got a free breast pump and at-home visits from sage femmes. I’d sit at a bench in the park to awkwardly breastfeed under a scarf and see three other moms, tits fully out, doing their thing, too.

Did all of those amazing benefits suddenly make the post-partum depression or existential despair that comes with motherhood disappear? Nah. But did I mention the free breast pump?

Can you share any anecdotes about your highest and lowest moments in Paris? 
Highest: After our first kid was born, we gathered our things from our week-long hospital stay and went down to the admin kiosks with all our paperwork. We diligently filled each page out, flashing my newly acquired social security number (obtaining that was a task of Herculean proportions, but I digress). We completed and signed everything. All was in order. The bored woman on the other side of the kiosk window looked at our expectant faces, confused. Why aren't these Americans leaving?

The standoff lasted for another good five seconds or so before we realized: Oh, we don’t have to pay for anything. So we took our baby and left.

Are there aspects of American life that you long for?
A good bagel, tapsilog, Tex-Mex, crawfish, kolaches, cannoli, the Flushing Mall food court, egg creams, a Whataburger honey butter chicken biscuit, breakfast tacos, queso, mala dry pot, Blue Bell Ice Cream, a bacon egg and cheese on a roll prepared for you by a man who doesn’t care if you live or die.

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As a kid growing up in the Philadelphia suburbs, I never would have imagined that I’d be living abroad nor that one of my school friend’s siblings would one day look me up when she moved to Europe. We got to know each other and before long, she was introducing me to her cousin, Dan, who had moved to Paris. That’s a roundabout way of saying he and I were both in Paris for years before meeting, both went through unstable starts to our careers, and both figured “it” all out—eventually. He is one of only a handful of people in my life with a corporate job (my husband is another) and the only lawyer! Read about his path to Paris.
NOTE: want access to the insightful takeaways at the end? Become a paid subscriber. It also gives you full access to this newsletter’s archives!

Where was the last place you lived in the U.S.? 
I last lived on a permanent basis in San Diego, CA, where I finished my Master of Laws in Tax. I was in transit for about five months between Boston and New York while I waited for my work permit to come to France.

Did you intend to leave permanently or was the move temporary?
It depends on how you define “permanently.” When I arrived in Paris in 2013, I had no idea how long I would survive here, starting my career as a very junior, very American attorney at a very French law firm. I was made to understand very quickly that the only reason my CDI was confirmed was that my bosses pitied me for waiting so long for my titre de séjour, coming all the way to France just to be forced to go home after a few months. Needless to say, there were many signs I missed that my move should have been temporary. But, the months turned to years, and here I am, still kicking!

Was there a pivotal moment when you knew your life would be best pursued elsewhere?
Growing up in the Boston suburbs as a 1.75 generation immigrant from Israel, at a time when the suburbs were much more provincial, with a dad with a strong accent and a weird middle name, I never truly felt at “home” where I grew up. I first felt an attachment to Paris when I visited with my high school German club (on the way to Austria and Germany). I remember seeing a homeless person pulling down his pants and reading a newspaper while doing his business on the street in broad daylight and I immediately thought that the city was a droll mix of highbrow and lowbrow. Although I would not enjoy the same experience as much today, I’d say my initial impression has held all these years later.

What sort of financial consideration did the move require, even as a student initially? Does one need a plump savings account to make this work?
I arrived in Paris for my first real job (39k euros gross annually as a lawyer—definitely some sticker shock there) with some savings from having worked some odd jobs (doc review, outreach for planned parenthood) and from selling most of my stuff (car, mattress, etc.). When I first tried to get an apartment and they asked for a year’s worth of rent as a caution (guarantee), I knew I would be in trouble financially. I ended up finding a roommate situation that worked, and with some crafty negotiation, I was able to provide just two months rent as a guarantee and avoid putting up many thousands of euros that I didn’t have. At the time, the exchange rate was much worse (1.3-1.4 EUR to USD, or .6-.7 USD to EUR), so the financial consideration was important. My parents helped me out the first two or three months when I had a lot of administrative and housing expenses. If you are moving here for a job, I would recommend at least two months rent in savings because you won’t get paid until the end of your first month (I was not aware that salaries were paid every month, not every two weeks like in the U.S.).

At what age did you leave? Looking back, was that too soon or too late?
I arrived in France just shy of my 27th birthday. I wish I had arrived a few years earlier; 25 I think would have been a good age. 27 was too close to 30, when you are expected to be a bit more of an adult in France (hence why that is a big birthday year). My mid-twenties would have given more time for fun (especially with a very demanding career to start).

When did you know you'd made the right [or wrong] call?
I didn’t have any particular desire to study law in Paris so much as I wanted to be in Paris and tax law travels well. So I knew I made the right call when I passed the French bar (on the second try). Had I failed it a second time, I would have probably gone back to the States. Although I was already barred in California, passing the bar in France was the sign that I could truly integrate here from a professional and from a language standpoint. I was certainly traumatized by almost getting fired at the end of my trial period. I needed to prove to myself and all the other lawyers at my law firm that I belonged here.

What does Paris offer you that your native home couldn’t and, perhaps, still can’t?
Cheap amazing wine, unpasteurized cheese, and healthcare. Nine weeks paid vacation. Time is the only thing money can’t buy (unless you are wealthy enough not to need to work).

Can you share any anecdotes about your highest and lowest moments in Paris? 
My highest moments have been the births of my two children, getting married, and getting sworn into the French bar. I also have fond memories of my first summer here (before almost getting fired), where I could play basketball after work under the late summer sun (though, as I would learn later, I should have been working). That first summer was truly amazing— having the time to discover all the city had to offer, all the cinema en plein air, both at La Villette and Parc de la Butte-du-Chapeau-Rougee. At the time, Vélib wasn’t a big thing and the pollution was bad, but I loved using those bikes to get around everywhere. To this day, I prefer biking over taking the metro. Now, thanks to Anne Hidalgo, I no longer have a thin film of pollution coating my mouth after longer trips.

The lowest moments were the first few months of intense loneliness. I moved here completely alone. I only had my host mom from studying abroad as a reference. When I arrived, my French was not as good as it is today. When I would go to lunch with my French colleagues, I spent most of the time sitting in silence, trying painfully to follow the discussions rife with argot and with sometimes difficult accents (Toulousain or Marseillais or Belge). I understood quickly why we say, “paying attention,” because I was completely broke at the end of each day. My first year here was “the year without laughter,” as I wasn’t good enough in French to understand any jokes, and lacked the appropriate context and timing to hit the delivery on any of my own jokes. Friday nights, I would come home exhausted from the week, and I would either stay home trying to study French and resting for work on monday or drag myself out, usually by myself, to meet people. When I moved here, dating apps weren’t really a thing. I remember my roommates at the time looking at me shocked when I would try to use Tinder.

French people, at least then, had their friends from childhood and that was that. As my French wasn’t good, the novelty of hanging out with an American usually wore off pretty quickly. Expat life was hard too, as it is very transitory. Most of the expats I met my first year were gone six months later. Eventually, I was able to meet others through Meetup, which got me through the tough first year, and eventually made some friends through basketball, work, and going out.

Also, bureaucracy has been a beast here. My request for a carte vitale was lost at first (obviously, I was not notified), so I had 1.5 years of feuilles de soin collected by the time I finally got it. It also took me four years of back and forth with the administration to get my French nationality (I got married and had two kids over that period).

Are there aspects of American life that you long for?

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I met Genie Godula, the broadcast journalist and film festival presenter extraordinaire, through mutual friends more than ten years ago but only realized how closely aligned our paths to and in Paris were upon reading her responses to this questionnaire. She came to Paris at 22 without believing she’d stay, worked a number of different jobs that formed the career she has today, fell in love, and started a family. Where we differ: she has interviewed nearly every celebrity in the business as the city’s most in-demand bilingual emcee and festival presenter, has anchored on France 24 since the station first launched in 2006, and has raised two children. She was the first person to interview me live on TV (for the release of The New Paris!) and the first journalist in Paris to demonstrate for me that some roles and opportunities emerge unexpectedly (and that’s okay!). Get to know Genie.

Where was the last place you lived in the U.S.? 
Evanston, Illinois. I moved overseas three months after getting my journalism degree at Northwestern University. I actually spent a year doing a glorified internship for the BBC World Service in London before moving to Paris, so technically, that was the last place I lived before France.

Did you intend to leave permanently or was the move temporary?
I never once imagined I was leaving the U.S. for good. After my work visa ran out in London, I still didn’t feel ready to go back to the states, so I got a summer job on a campsite in the Dordogne region in southwestern France. After that, I came up to Paris and couchsurfed for a while, crashing on the floor of an American friend who had a place in the Marais. We had both performed in college so we auditioned to be singing waitresses at the Hollywood Savoy restaurant near the Bourse. That was the first in a series of performing and journalism jobs in Paris that have somehow added up to a career over the past 35 years. I feel like I gave myself a parentheses of one year after college to grow, learn, and have fun and I just never closed that parentheses.

Was there a pivotal moment when you knew your life would be best pursued elsewhere?
Very early in my television career, I co-hosted a show with French transgender cabaret star Galia Salimo. Back then, I was feeling a bit stuck professionally due to my thick American accent. She cheered me up with a quote from Jean Cocteau, which I have used as a beacon ever since:“Ce qu'on te reproche, cultive-le, c'est toi.” (“What people criticize you for, cultivate it. That’s you.”)

What sort of financial consideration did the move require, even as a student initially? Does one need a plump savings account to make this work?
Between my camp job and waitressing, I made enough to make ends meet my first year, but I was definitely living like a pauper. I did give myself a 12-month limit, however, to get a “real” job in Paris. After a lot of networking and one lucky break where I became a last-minute replacement for a DJ on France’s national station Fun Radio, I was eventually hired to host my own show. I was fortunate enough to get into the French system early in my career, which meant I qualified for France’s special unemployment program for entertainers (intermittent du spectacle). That helped cover me during dry spells so I could figure out my next move in my chosen field, as opposed to being forced to take a job I didn’t want.

At what age did you leave? Looking back, was that too soon or too late?
I moved to Paris when I was 22, so I’ve spent almost my entire career in France. I was very young, but it was right for me as I was able to bounce through several different jobs before finally settling into my current position as an anchor at France 24. Being young also gave me the energy I needed to fight battle after battle with French bureaucracy to get a work visa, a press card, a bank account, an apartment… Now that I’ve lived here longer than I lived in the U.S., I feel like I’ve finally found the right balance between being American and French. I am also grateful to have worked in France long enough to be able to take advantage of the country’s good pension scheme (if it’s still in place when I retire)!

When did you know you'd made the right [or wrong] call?
In 2005, I had two major life events. I got married and had my first child. Hosting our wedding in a French Renaissance chateau, complete with an ancient chapel, incredible food, and a champagne tower was amazing enough, but it was made even better by the many friends from the U.S. and the U.K. who made the trip to be with us. Later that year, when my son was born, I was treated to a relaxing five-day stay in a private room in our local French hospital. When my British husband and I checked out, we were shocked to see our total bill was zero. In addition to the amazing healthcare, France’s generous paid maternity leave made it easier to spend time in the states with family there. To this day, my American friends ask if I’m not worried about being fired for taking so much vacation time every year. They can’t believe it when I say you get in more trouble for NOT taking the time off. Knowing I can benefit from all France has to offer, while also keeping strong contacts with friends and family in the US, is a daily reminder I’ve made the right call.

What does Paris offer you that your native home couldn’t and, perhaps, still can’t?
A car-free existence and an incredible work-life balance that’s not under the constant threat of gun violence.

Can you share any anecdotes about your highest and lowest moments in Paris? 
The first time the Eiffel Tower sparkled with its 20,000 flashing lights was at midnight on January 1, 2000. I had just done a series of standups in Saint-Germain-des-Prés for TF1’s live New Year’s Eve coverage and was on the back of a motorcycle on my way to the next live setup. Paris by night is amazing at any time, but riding on the back of a motorcycle as the city’s most famous monument came alive was definitely one to remember.

A close second could be the Friday night rollerblading “protests” around Paris that marked my twenties. The protest moniker gives the city the right to send rollerblading cops along to help out and hold traffic lights for the thousands of in-line skaters gliding by. The motorists in Paris hate getting stuck like that, but if you’re one of the rollerbladers zooming around the French capital, it’s pure magic.

A funny third that comes to mind was the opening of Euro Disney (now Disneyland Paris) in 1992. It was a star-studded extravaganza filled with French and American celebrities, but my favorite memory was the enormous revolving dinner around the Disney lake in Marne-La-Vallée. Each themed hotel had its own specialties prepared by France’s best chefs laid out in front. There were lobsters and other fruits de mer at the east-coast-themed hotel, elegant French-twist barbecue at the western hotel and pastries, meringues and mounds of chocolate-dipped strawberries at the New York. It was the perfect blend of French fabulousness and American excess and I loved every minute.

The lowest moment for me was 2015. The terror attacks marked a definite before and after, like with 9/11 in the US. The sense of safety so many of us felt here, probably without even realizing it, was shattered. It’s taken Paris a long time to recover and I’m sure for many it never will.

More personally, and being a “lifer” in France myself now, it’s been difficult to live through several cycles of expat friends moving away. I’ve since found myself consciously choosing the people I pursue friendships with, or at least checking first how long they’re planning on sticking around.

One final low moment of my Paris existence would be the dreaded “lettre recommandée” (registered letter) that employers send out when they’re firing someone, often without notice. That’s happened twice to me so far and it’s left me with permanent PTSD every time a postal worker shows up at the door!

Are there aspects of American life that you long for?
Space. Every time I go to the U.S., I am filled with house-envy and have spent far too much time drooling over big homes and yards there. I am also constantly amazed at how much higher salaries are in the U.S., but I’ve made my peace with it now. I have a colleague who left France 24 for a job at CNN. He thought he had won the lottery when they offered four times more than his salary in Paris. But after health care, education expenses, insurance, and others fees, he quickly realized his life in France was more affordable!

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I can’t remember the first time I met Francesca Hansen, a director at Paris Wine Company, but it invariably involved her pouring me a glass of something delicious. I may have even asked her why she feels Burgundy wines go so well with mac and cheese, a combo she has publicly stated would be her ideal last meal. We were both involved in organizing a Hillary Clinton fundraiser in Paris in 2016 (we tried!) where I got to know more about her passion for wine with a side of politics. But her Leaving America story? I learned that from the questionnaire.

Where was the last place you lived in the U.S.? 
Baltimore, Maryland. I was at Johns Hopkins, before starting my master’s degree as part of a B.A/M.A. with Sciences Po. Little did I know how totally insufficient my French was then.

Did you intend to leave permanently or was the move temporary?
Yes and no. The U.S. always loomed but Paris kept on pulling me back. Before I finished my diploma, I thought I’d be a diplomat, then became disillusioned with that while working as an intern in a U.S. Embassy. At 24, I was a paralegal in a London-based law firm and thought I’d end up marrying my English boyfriend, living in London, and becoming a lawyer there. Instead, he broke up with me simultaneously to the 2008 financial crisis when I had been verbally-promised a training contract in a UK law firm but the recession meant hiring was totally put on hold. So I went back go Paris to finish my Sciences Po degree sort of as a default. Then I accepted my first job here in Paris and after that petered out, I considered moving back to the U.S. But then I met my now-husband. Once I was married and residency papers were secured, I felt safe enough to think about what I really wanted to do for my career, which I quickly concluded was wine. I asked around if people had any connections in wine (I "put it out in the universe", as they say now), and a dear American friend introduced me to the late Josh Adler shortly after he founded Paris Wine Company. I gave up a secure job (un CDI—le contrat de travail à durée indéterminée) to contract for what was then a total start up. But I’m still there today so you might say that sealed the deal.

Was there a pivotal moment when you knew your life would be best pursued elsewhere?
I knew I wanted to live abroad since I was ten, when my family traveled through Europe by train. My parents met in the Peace Corps in Honduras and lived in London at the beginning of their marriage. The idea that a life abroad was normal and achievable was very much a part of my childhood.

What sort of financial consideration did the move require, even as a student initially? Does one need a plump savings account to make this work?
I absolutely can't gloss over the fact that my parents helped me out through my master's and my first year of job-hunting/interning, without which I could have never received my initial work permit! I lived as frugally as possible, and drank a lot of horrific five euro Côtes du Rhône along the Seine. In some ways, those were probably some of my fondest memories here. I still think there are a lot of affordable pleasures in Paris, you just have to know where to find them.

At what age did you leave? Looking back, was that too soon or too late?
I was 25. I think it was the right age, because I had discovered what being an adult was like in both Paris and in London—two places where opening a bank account and renting an apartment are more or less impossible. At that age, my brain was still flexible enough to be wrapped around the dadaesque French administrative process.

When did you know you'd made the right [or wrong] call?
November 8, 2016 and then again on November 5, 2024.

What does Paris offer you that your native home couldn’t and, perhaps, still can’t?
There’s a very high percentage of food and wine-interested people, even among friends who don’t work professionally in either industry. I’ll go further and say that what I particularly appreciate is that there’s not as much flashiness in food and wine circles (although that exists in some corners, of course). I also appreciate the lack of conspicuous consumption. And I can’t think of a city that has a broader availability of incredible products— cheese, wine, chocolate, fruit, vegetables, and more.

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Can you share any anecdotes about your highest and lowest moments in Paris? 
I’m almost embarrassed to say that my highest moments in Paris were some of my first memories of the honeymoon period in the first few months—being in my early twenties, staying out all night, drinking along the Seine. I have done many more technically prestigious things since, but in terms of what gives me Paris-based joy, those moments keep me going.

Lowest moment: I had a full-year low point in 2019 when my mother was diagnosed with pancreatic cancer right after my daughter was born. It was a long low point, but for what it's worth, living in France meant long vacations and childcare stability (in addition to a supportive husband) and that allowed me to travel to the U.S. fairly often in what was the last year of her life. I'm almost certain I saw her more than I would have if I had been living in the U.S.

Are there aspects of American life that you long for?

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I first met former Time Magazine journalist and author J…

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