LIFE IN FRANCE
Should I Have Done A Little More Advance Planning Before I Jumped Off The Deep End?
Almost nine years ago, I made one of the biggest decisions of my life. At age 68, I moved to France alone. I knew no one and barely spoke the language.
It was also one of the most impulsive decisions I’d ever made — other than the time in my late teens when I jumped out of a boat in the middle of a Missouri lake — just like all the other kids on the boat. Except that they could swim.
Happily, I was pulled safely from the lake and my move to France has worked out in ways I couldn’t possibly have imagined. I love living here and, like Edith Piaf, Je ne regrette rien
Still, looking back at those first few months, I remember moments when I wondered whether I should have given a little more thought to my decision. Loneliness, missing friends and family — the very things people warned me about — arrived with a vengeance.
I’d write posts about all my exciting discoveries — the food, the people, the quirky little daily adventures, but alone at night I’d avoid thinking too far ahead and yearn to hear a familiar voice. Nine hours time difference between France and the west coast of the States, where my family and most of my friends lived, made impulsive calls problematic.
Would I be waking them up? Disturbing them at work? Unable to sleep, I’d often read until dawn, then sleep for much of the next day. And then come up with more upbeat posts about my exciting new life.
Despite all this, I never gave serious thoughts to returning to the States. I’d sought out this adventure and I was determined that it would work.
And somehow it did.
Some of the stories from the early years . . . and a few observations
Certain people should be avoided at all costs:
Others have ulterior motives:
If I’d done some research first, I probably wouldn’t have chosen the Languedoc — the hottest and windiest place in France. Bad for my allergies, good for winemakers.
France is a great country for foodies . . . it helps to have an adventurous palate
Visitors from home are always welcome
The lessons to be drawn from all this? I’m not quite sure. I’ve had responses from people who say it was brave to do what I did and while I’d like to think of myself that way (certainly better than gormless which is what my mum called me when she learned about my jumping off the boat) but I was lucky too.
I was safely pulled from the lake back then and, here in France, I wasn’t hit with medical emergencies, or ill health . . . which at 68 is a consideration. Other than Mr. Doom & Gloom, I’ve met some fantastic and interesting people who have contributed to the success of my life here.
I do think it’s possible to overthink things — easy to find enough excuses not to do something, to scare yourself into inactivity and then regret. So I don’t know the right answer . . .for me, I suppose, it’s just trusting fate.
