A lot of people have asked me about our experience of living in France. Why France? How did you decide which city to live in? Why move to another country at all? And many MANY more… So I thought I’d share the introduction of our book, Breath of French Air. This is the book of our blog posts and photos that we created while preparing to move, and while living in France for a year. I hope you enjoy it!

It all started a few years ago when I was watching an episode of House Hunters International, and I asked my husband “would you ever move abroad?” Actually it really started back when I was just a youngster (well in my early 30’s which now seems like a youngster), and visited Paris for the first time. We fell in love. And then I visited again, and I knew. Je t’aime, Paris, je t’aime. The language, food, people, markets, the art, architecture, bicycle baskets carrying flowers and baguettes…I can’t exactly explain it.

From the first time I stepped foot in Paris, the city cast a spell over me. So when Neal said yes he had considered moving abroad before, I knew what had to happen. The next thing you know we were conjugating French verbs and stumbling along trying to figure out how to make the French fantasy a reality.

Things started moving faster at one point when we were both incredibly stressed with our jobs, and I started to think “we can’t keep living like this…we need a change”. So like the efficient project manager that I was, I prepared a presentation.

It outlined what we were experiencing now – stress; what we longed for – adventure and freedom; and how to get there – save money and start doing what we love which is writing and photography. It must have been a kick-ass presentation; because he said “let’s do this”. Well let me backup a bit. Immediately after the presentation he just looked at me, as if in shock. As if I had just told him I was working at a strip club for extra money (that would have been shocking on many levels, trust me). But the next morning, after telling me he couldn’t sleep all night, THAT is when he said “let’s do this”. Well ok, let’s.

The first thing I did was to start calculating – how much do we need to save in order to make this happen; how long will that take; what is involved in living in another country. Let the checklists begin. So that’s exactly what I did – started creating checklists for finances, visas, potential locations, do we move, store, or eliminate “stuff”…I think you get the point.

After the initial onslaught of general planning, we talked about how our year (or so) would look in France. We decided to set up a home base somewhere and then travel from there. I have read about people who just live out of suitcases and keep moving, which we considered. But knowing us, we needed to feel a little more grounded than that. So the research into the perfect home base began.

Factors that we considered included size (preferably medium), presence of an expat community, public transportation (so we didn’t have to worry about a car), weather, crime, and housing. So the finalists became (drum roll please): Bordeaux, Toulouse, Montpellier, and Lyon.

We decided the best way to pick the final location was to do a preliminary research trip to check out each of the 4 cities. Could we have made a best guess by researching online? Probably. But the official move wasn’t for another year or so, and I was dying to get over there! So Neal, who does NOT like to fly, volunteered his sister, Rhonda, to make the trip with me. She graciously agreed.

The planning then shifted to what the research trip should look like. Each city involved a bus tour to get an overview, and then strategic neighborhood investigation. We would stay 3 nights in each city, and I (of course, I think you’re getting the idea by now) had a plan for what we would see each day. A train would take us from city to city, and each location had an extensive public transportation system – it is Europe, after all.

Rhonda and I started our trip in Bordeaux and headed to our little Airbnb apartment. I think it goes without saying that Bordeaux would have to involve a wine tour. We walked, ate, drank wine, ate and walked some more. What we found is that Bordeaux had spectacular architecture, parks, and a lovely waterfront where joggers, dog walkers, and cyclists enjoyed the sunshine. Rue Sainte Catherine was a long pedestrian mall where folks strolled along for shopping and dining.

In Bordeaux, I finally got the opportunity to really give my new French language skills a try. For my first attempt, I ordered our breakfast en Français, and she actually understood what I wanted! Yes, this was a breakthrough moment for me, and I was pretty proud of myself. Until she then returned my brilliant order with an entire sentence in French, of which I had zero comprehension. OK, so my French needs a little (a lot) more work.

Our next stop on the research journey was Toulouse. La Ville Rose ("the Pink City") certainly lived up to its name, with red tile roofs as far as the eye could see. The Canal du Midi, Place du Capitole, and Jardin Des Plantes added to the charm of this vibrant and friendly city.

We even met an elderly gentleman, who spoke absolutely no English, and yet still tried to assist us in finding our way on the Metro (subway). After a series of wild gestures and French phrases that I didn’t quite get, we finally figured out which train, and which direction. Merci, monsieur.

Montpellier had a bustling and diverse central square, Place de la Comédie. There was a tramway line, with cars decorated by Garouste, Bonetti, and Christian Lacroix. They looked like moving works of art winding their way through the city. Montpellier had a bit edgier vibe than the other 2 cities, with graffiti on nearly every building it seemed, and bands of people begging for money. Rhonda and I were on constant alert to protect our belongings.

Finally, we arrived in Lyon. Let me pause here. The trains that carried us across France, from Bordeaux to Lyon, traveled through some of the most stunning scenery I have ever imagined. There were rolling hills with châteaux perched on top, vineyards, canals, mountain ranges, pastures of sheep…I could go on. But for the sake of continuing our story, I will stop here and let your imagination fill in the rest.

So on to Lyon, a grand city with glorious historic cathedrals and narrow cobblestone streets, straddling two rivers, the Rhône and Saône. We could have wandered around the Parc de la Tête d’Or for days, but alas we had work to do.

The Croix Rousse area is a hilly neighborhood scattered with les traboules, which are passageways originally used by silk merchants to transport their products to keep them dry when raining. Though fascinating, the traboules were also a bit elusive, and we ran out of steam before finding more than approximately one (at least we think it was a traboule – they aren’t exactly well marked).

After our stay in Lyon, we were ready to head back home and share the results with Neal. It was with mixed feelings – I missed him terribly - but my love of France was fueled by the trip, and I hated to leave. This had been an adventure for sure, but unlike a ‘vacation’, it was more than enjoying the sites, it was figuring out which place we could live, and was a good fit for us – did it ‘feel’ right.

I’m all about the feelings – ask anybody who knows me. I’ve heard “you’re so sensitive” for most of my life…although usually it sounds more like an insult than a compliment. Well hopefully that sensitivity was going to help me figure out where we would set up shop for at least a year, so this time I was listening.

On the way home, I prepared a presentation (I’m really into presentations if you haven’t already picked up on that) for Neal so he could see all the pros, cons, and pictures of each location. The two finalists were Toulouse and Lyon. Without much discussion, we really knew which was the right choice…Toulouse. It seemed like the perfect size, personality, and charm for us to settle right in and start our new French life.

Ahh, just reliving that makes me miss France. I really thought this year-long sabbatical would be a good reset…a system reboot…and that when I returned I’d be content with jumping back into my “normal life” again. But…

Do I want to go back soon? Desperately. But right now life (and pandemics) are getting in the way. Hopefully, someday I’ll be able to talk Neal into MOVING back, so we can explore all the hidden jewels we missed the first time around.

If you want more information about our Breath of French Air blog, you can find it here.

If you have lived abroad, dreamt of living abroad, or just want to chat about the idea of it all, send me a message. I love to share our experience and would love to hear about yours!

Why we quit our jobs and moved to France for a year

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