If I got the opportunity to move to Paris, here’s what my dream version of life there would look like.
Before I go, I have spent at least a year doing an intensive course, speaking with natives, immersing myself in French content and research about Paris. I’m confident enough with my language skills to know that I will move beyond Bonjour when I arrive and I will be able to get myself to wherever I need to go next. I will ask any questions I happen to think of along the way and no one at the airport will even get a chance to come up to me and ask, “Madame, vous-parlez français?” as I briefly pause by the ticket machines for my train.
My apartment might be tiny, but there will be an enormous window, either floor-length or with a window seat. No matter how small, the place will be in good condition, the shower will be working, and if it does break, my French will be sufficient to fend for myself as I try to find someone to fix problem. If I happen to have an attractive downstairs neighbor, I will not make the mistake of confusing his floor for mine, instead identifying distinguishing landmarks for myself to make sure I arrive at my own door. Maybe I’ll lay down a doormat. By the way, I’ll also take a smaller window, just as long as there is one. Oh, and a safe neighborhood would be nice, doesn’t matter how far away from central Paris, just as long as there’s a subway station and a supermarket within walking distance. And a bakery. And a post office. Maybe a park, doesn’t have to be big.
I will take all the inevitable big and small culture shocks, bureaucratic hurdles, daily struggles in stride, because I will hopefully have enough hard-boiled common sense to know that Paris is not bending to my will. I will use very modern things like Facebook and the internet to my advantage to find expat groups, meet-ups, free walking tours for those first few months. I will read and YouTube a ton to find out more about questions that pop up along the way, because so many people have already produced very helpful content about How Things Are Done Here, also about the workplace.
In the meantime, my French will improve through being surrounded by it all the time when I’m not sleeping. I’ll mentally note down all the little phrases and turns of conversation, always remember to say Bonjour Madame and Bonjour Monsieur in the appropriate situations, pardon, excusez-moi. I’ll become so fluent, I’ll be able to be sarcastic in French, convey all my quirks and idiosyncrasies while still sounding almost like a local, get why things are funny and never commit a social faux pas.
Because French is the key, it is always the key, to that dream Paris life. Now, doesn’t this all sound ideal?
No, this post has not been brought on by watching Emily in Paris…