We Moved to France!
What that means for ¿401 Que?
We moved to Versailles. Well, for now.
No, it’s not because of Trump. We’re here for six months, possibly a year, depending on where my wife, who is pursuing a program here, does her practicum. I wanted to share that not just as a life update but as a newsletter update.
I started ¿401 Que? as a newsletter that explored the relationship that immigrants and their children have with money, hence the punny name. I took a long hiatus, then at the start of this year, as the world roiled and moiled, I broadened the newsletter’s focus. My perspective on immigration and the immigrant experience has been U.S.-centric, informed by my Latino background. Now, staying in France for a while, my perspective will no doubt shift.
Here, I am the outsider. I don’t speak the language. I don’t know the system. I don’t even know how to use the Metro. Apparently, you have to open the train car doors manually! Hell, I struggled to buy groceries the other day because I couldn’t understand what the cashier was trying to tell me. When he finally blurted “ticket, ticket,” I realized he was asking me if I wanted a receipt.
I suspect my time here will give me a new perspective on the immigrant experience, though I acknowledge that our move is privileged relative to many immigrants. Most people would probably call us expats, though I’m not sure what the French would call us. Regardless, we made the choice to come here, and we have the means and legal permission to come and go as we please.
Still, we’ll encounter discomfort, navigating a culture and a system alien to us. That’s a good thing. Maybe it’ll remind us that the world is not designed for us. Living in the U.S. for too long, you can lose sight of that. Maybe this experience will grant me greater appreciation for what my parents went through when moving from Mendoza to Hell’s Kitchen.
Fear and Loneliness in Hell's Kitchen
My parents immigrated to the U.S. in 1969. They rented a small apartment for 90 bucks a month in Hell’s Kitchen, which at the time was lousy with pimps, prostitutes, and stickup men. My mother and father saw each other just a few minutes a day. 401 Que? is a newsletter dedicated to humanizing immigrants. Consider upgrading…
Additionally, I know there is growing anti-U.S. sentiment in France and around much of the world, so I’m a little apprehensive about how that might influence how people perceive and treat us here. We’ll see.
For the last few months, friends and family have been asking if we were ready for the big move and if we were excited. As I write this from our apartment that is a 10-minute tree-lined walk from the Palace of Versailles, home for the next 5 months, I can confirm that I have been, and remain, anxious. I know, I know, tough life living in Versailles for a while, and it is unquestionably beautiful here, but not knowing the language and customs makes me feel like half of myself. In English, I’m a writer. In French, I’m an ambulatory newborn.
I want to lean into this experience, but I can’t but help feel unsettled. The last couple of months have been defined by motion and displacement. We packed our house up and put it all in a storage unit. We spent a month at my mom’s house, interspersed with two wedding trips: one in Montauk and another in Chicago.
A Wedding and a Vision of a Better U.S.
I’m not sure how I found myself arranging rose petals on the beds of the bridal suite. I’d only met the bride and groom once before. One minute, the mother of the bride was thanking us for coming. The next minute, my wife and I were arranging rose petals we’d plucked into heart shapes on pristine comforters.
Two days after my sister’s wedding, we were on a flight to Paris with everything we could (un)reasonably carry.
I convinced myself l would practice French in advance. We’d found out about Daniela’s admission half a year earlier. Plenty of time to get my French in working order, I lied to myself. Now, I’m here with no passing French to speak of. I’ve gotten by in Paris and Bordeaux in the past partly with the precious few phrases I could muster but mostly because many people here, especially in Paris, speak English. It’s different ordering food at a restaurant in Paris than buying groceries in a grocery store in Versailles, I’m finding.
That said, I relish the opportunity to see the world through a different lens, to see firsthand how another country approaches immigration, to gain insight into how people in France (and other Europeans) view major global events, and to get a glimpse of how another country perceives the news coming out of the U.S.
Though I’ll keep up to date with the immigration goings-on in the U.S., I will certainly be writing about my experiences and observations as an outsider in France. How will we manage? How will locals treat us? What will our lifestyle be? Will I make friends? Will we come back? How will we navigate finances? It all remains to be seen.
It’s both exciting and unnerving. There is opportunity in change, but there’s also unease. I made a big move in my 20s, but I was younger and more adaptable then. Also, moving to the UK, I had a built-in support system via my ex, and I knew the language. We don’t have either of those advantages here.
It was hard to leave when we did. We left our little house in a town by the Hudson River just as we were starting to make friends. On the other hand, we had also fallen into a bit of a rut following the Covid lockdown and interminable work-from-home lifestyle. It took a toll on our mental well-being and our social life. A shakeup was in order.
Change is hard, especially as you get older, but it’s good for you. Getting too set in your ways can limit your potential and sap your creativity. I’m hopeful that this change will rejuvenate our lives and our creativity.
I’m excited for Daniela, who is pursuing her dream. I want to honor that dream by supporting her as much as I can while also pursuing my own dream—publishing a novel—as doggedly as possible. I have a vision of a life we can lead, a vision I believe Daniela shares—a creative life, a flexible life, a life of our making, a life with new friends and old ones, a life with an anchor and also the freedom to move around, a life with the space to explore new places and try new things, a life with old comforts and new potential. Maybe that new life begins in Versailles.
Since the bulk of my subscribers are based in the U.S., feel free to leave me a comment or send me a DM about anything you’re curious to know about from a French or Parisian perspective, regarding global politics, global migration, immigration in France, U.S. politics, lifestyle, culture, or anything else in that vein.
I think I already commented on a note, but welcome to Paris! There is quite a lively Anglophone literary community here, as well of course as a huge French literary scene. The European Writers Salon https://www.saloneurope.org/ organise things in Paris quite often, and there are many other smaller groups and networks. Let me know if you'd like to meet for a coffee sometime -- I live and work in the 5th. I'm British but with dual citizenship via marriage and we moved from London to Paris four years ago.
What you said about there is a difference between ordering dinner in Paris and buying groceries in Versailles, reminded me of my first trip to Puerto Rico. I was told that everyone knows English but when I got there and left the hotel zone, I found it not to be true. But it motivated me to learn Spanish. Eventually it led me to meeting the woman who is now my wife, while visiting Costa Rica with my brother.
…There is a Substack site called Expats Planet that you might find helpful. Or at least entertaining.
Here’s some advice for going to buy coffee where you are:
“Ordering coffee in France is not a transaction. It’s foreplay.”