When I stepped off that plane at Charles De Gaulle International Airport, suitcase in one hand and dreams in the other, I thought I was ready. I had read the articles, watched the vlogs, and even mentally rehearsed my “Bonjour!” a hundred times. I thought I had this whole ‘living abroad’ thing on lock.
I did not.
France, with all her charm and croissants, is a whole different world, and she does not care how many Duolingo streaks you have kept.
Let us talk culture shocks first. For starters, everything closes at lunch. Yes, even the post office and some supermarkets. At first, I’d be strolling out at 1 PM, ready to conquer the world (or just buy milk) only to find shuttered doors and handwritten signs that say “Fermé “. I thought it was a prank. It was not.
Then there is the kissing on the cheeks thing. I was barely recovering from my introvert meltdown when someone leaned in for a double bisou. Nobody told me I would need a mental flow-chart to figure out how many kisses go where, depending on the region.
Also the French administration. Whew. It is like a sport. Papers, copies of papers, translated versions of papers… and a sprinkle of waiting in line for hours. I now keep a folder like I am carrying state secrets, just to survive the bureaucracy.
But hey, it is not all mon Dieu moments.
There have been sweet surprises, too.
Like the way kids in my class get so excited just to learn the word ‘apple’. The way the old ladies say “Bon courage” with a kind smile when they hear I am from far away. The way French bread really does slap harder than anything else, and you start to understand why it deserves its own section in the supermarket.
And oh – the beauty of slow living. Here, people pause. They sit for hours over coffee. They walk more. They savor meals, and somehow, life feels little less like a race. Coming from a culture where ‘hustle’ is glorified, there has been a breath of fresh, buttery air. I have really adjusted to the slow living, and I love it here, so much.
Also, men will greet you like you are royalty. Sometimes I walk past a man and I get hit with a whole “Bonjour Mademoiselle” and a nod like I just won an award. The confidence? The charm? I mean…
Of course, homesickness still hits. There are days I would trade all the baguettes in the world for a warm plate of ugali and kales. Days when French feels like a foreign film with no subtitles. Days when I just want someone to understand without me having to explain.
But then I came here for this. For growth. For adventure, For stories.
And now, I am here, growing, learning, occassionally crying in a Carrefour aisle, but ultimately thriving. Slowly building a life that is different from what I imagined, but maybe even more beautiful.
So if you are wondering what life in France is really like for a girl figuring it all out with a pen in one hand hand and faith in the other, this is it. Culture shocks, sweet surprises, awkward bisous and all.
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