Further Reflections on Living as an Expat in Paris

“Our homes are not defined by geography or one particular location, but by memories, events, people, and places that span the globe.” — Marilyn Gardner

Living as an American expatriate in Paris in the early aughts seems like a lifetime ago. It was our first posting overseas, so although we felt some trepidation about the move, we tried to approach it with a spirit of adventure.

After all, the posting would be for a couple of years at most, and we would be back in the States before we knew it.

Parisian Apartment

We were lucky to rent a huge modern five-room unfurnished luxury apartment in western Paris’s chic 16th arrondissement(district).

The apartment was on the first floor of a mid-20th-century building with a caretaker, a small elevator, a door-entry code, and an intercom.

It included a spacious living room, a fully equipped kitchen, two bedrooms, a full bathroom, an additional shower room, and a separate half bath.

The high ceilings and period features classified the apartment as modern. It also had a marble mantel with a giant mirror above it.

Regrettably, seeing as we were on the first-story of a nine-story building, we did not have a balcony or the magnificent views that came with living on a higher floor.

The apartment was located on a busy street; therefore, it was subject to a great deal of street noise. Be that as it may, I came to enjoy listening to the sounds of Paris before I arose from bed in the early hours of the morning.

Parisian Kitchen

We were extremely fortunate to find an apartment where the previous owners had been kind enough to leave the kitchen cabinets intact and leave a couple of armoires in the bedrooms.

Many Parisian apartments have empty kitchens, as the previous occupants remove the cabinets and use them in their next apartment.

Our apartment had a long narrow, galley kitchen, which we had to furnish with our own appliances, including the fridge, the stove, and the dishwasher.

Additionally, we purchased a small washer and dryer, which are typically kept in Parisian kitchens.

Furniture and Allowance

We shipped our furniture from our previous condo in Danbury, CT. We opted to live in my parents’ house in the DC metro area for a couple of months while our furniture and boxes were in transit.

My husband’s company gave us a generous allowance, which covered most of the rent for our apartment. We were only responsible for heat and hot water since we did not have air conditioning.

Caretaker

The caretaker of our apartment was a warm, lovely middle-aged widow who lived alone with her tiny Yorkie. She hailed from Barcelona.

We would often exchange pleasantries in the building corridors in Spanish — a language I was fluent in — having taken it for four years to satisfy my foreign language requirement in high school.

Apartment Location and Surroundings

The apartment provided a location that easily accessed several cafes, bakeries, and restaurants. There was a small grocery store right below our apartment complex; hence, it was effortless to get anything we needed.

My son’s French ecole maternelle (preschool) was just a few minutes’ walk away. Additionally, we had an outdoor market nearby, open twice a week, with stalls offering everything from fresh produce to meats, cheese, and fish.

The majority of shops and supermarkets were closed on Sundays. The restaurants, cafes, museums, monuments, and bakeries remained open.

There would be a rotation of grocery stores that would stay open on any given Sunday, so at least one would be available if you needed anything.

Repudiating the French Reputation

The French have a worldwide reputation for being rude and arrogant. Nonetheless, contrary to popular belief, I found them to be extremely courteous and considerate. The shopkeepers and waiters were always happy to assist me with anything I might need in a store or restaurant.

By the same token, if I ever found myself needing directions in a new part of the city, strangers were always kind enough to lend a helping hand. Many Parisians speak at least some English, so one could get by with a rudimentary knowledge of French.

French Physicians and Pharmacies

An interesting observation I made while we were posted in Paris pertained to French physicians and their penchant for over-prescribing medications.

On one occasion, I went to a private clinic with a persistent cough and left with prescriptions for no less than six different medications from my French general practitioner.

Every street corner had a pharmacy to fill your prescription requests. The French pharmacies have a monopoly on drugs and even commonly used over-the-counter medications could not be purchased in a grocery store.

The French Preschool Experience

Our experience with the French preschool my son attended was not very favorable. My son — who was three years old — attended school four days a week from 9 am to 4 pm. Wednesdays, Saturdays, and Sundays were holidays.

The students were given two hours for lunch, during which time I brought him home. It was no easy feat getting him to return to school after lunch.

It was a long day for a little kid, but it seemed to work for the French. Be that as it may, it did not work for my son.

The poor little guy was miserable at the school. It was simply not a good fit for him. We transferred him to an international school for the summer session, and he thrived there.

When we eventually returned to the States after our overseas postings, the first question he asked me was “ Mommy, do they speak English at my new school?”

Experience at the American Hospital in Paris

On the other hand, my experience at the American Hospital in Paris was excellent. My daughter was born in Paris; consequently, I had all my routine prenatal visits and ultrasounds with a wonderful French female obstetrician.

My doctors and the staff at the hospital all took good care of me. Everyone was concerned about my health and well-being throughout my labor, delivery, and postpartum recovery at the American hospital.

Final Thoughts

All things considered, living as an expatriate in Paris was the adventure of a lifetime. We learned how to integrate into a new culture and learned a lot about ourselves along the way.

This story originally appeared on Medium.