It’s been one month since we loaded our piles of luggage into my father-in-law’s truck, locked up our Richmond home one last time, and said goodbye at Dulles International Airport. It feels like ages ago, really. So much has happened since then — I feel like we’ve crammed a year’s worth of living into the last month.
And here we are, already counting down to the end. Just eleven months left? Eleven months until we could theoretically return home to Richmond, back to our lives. Back to our home, our pets, our friends and family and everything we love. And there is a part of me that wants to rejoice at that idea, but the other part of me doesn’t even want to think about returning. The other part of me wants to press the pause button on this French life we’re only just now starting to settle into, because it is very sweet. It really is better than I hoped.
We made a pact not to obsess over what’s next at first, to just spend our first few months being present and enjoying our time here, unburdened by those big questions about when we’re returning, and what are we doing with our house, and do we want to buy a home here in France? Do we want to stay a few more years, or maybe forever? I’d like to say we have honored that pact, but we have failed miserably. We spend a lot of time talking about whether or not we have a future here. And I’ll be honest: One person in this family had already made his decision before we even left the U.S. — he claims to have no interest in returning. The other person (spoiler alert, me) just needs more time. A little more proof that this is the right direction for our family.
I’ve had a few low moments over the last month. Twice, I found myself in tears at the end of a long day, frustrated by the difficulty of the most simple, mundane tasks in this new country. Tired of feeling deaf and mute as someone who can barely grasp this language, tired of feeling afraid of making a mistake. Most days I have the strength to handle it, but a few times I felt I just couldn’t leave the house. It was too much. I sometimes think wistfully of being back home, where I could easily communicate with people, and I knew my way around, and sometimes I even felt a little bit intelligent and funny. Here, I usually feel like an imbecile, barely able to cobble together a sentence. And that does get to me. I’m not sure if I’ll ever be intelligent and funny in French. It will take me a long time just to get by.
But I do have hope. I am feeling my confidence grow. I’m finally finding the rhythm of this place, unlike those first few weeks when I constantly felt at odds with my surroundings. It’s just an inkling of a feeling at this point, because I have so much to learn. But it is a small triumph, and I am feeling proud of myself for doing something that is really quite hard. I sometimes forget that the challenge of this move was a big part of its appeal. At this point in our lives, we thought the unfamiliar path just seemed a lot more interesting than the one we’ve spent our entire lives walking.
Day to day, I’m doubtful that this first month is any sort of true reflection of what life will be like here in France. It’s been the holidays, and Oli has been home from school, and we’ve just been allowing ourselves to enjoy exploring our new hometown. There have been lots of long walks, bakery runs, cafe hangs, and trying new restaurants. Shopping for things that feel extra-special just because they’re oh-so-French: fancy face creams and wire-framed glasses and school clothes for Oli. Even grocery shopping is just so much more fun (though it is more complicated to do without a car). We’ve become addicted to the cornichon pickles here, trying different kinds of yogurt, and of course, sampling all of the local wines (which cost well under 10€ a bottle).
In this first month, Todd has joined an Ultimate team and played for the first time in years. He also got his first real haircut ever, from a French barber who did not speak English, and it completely changed the shape of his head (in a good way!). Oli has had a few all-day playdates with a new friend from his class, and he’s constantly impressing strangers on the tram with his Rubik’s Cube skills. We traveled to the coast and to Spain, and booked some exciting trips for the spring.
In the last few days, we’ve started biking around more, trying to figure out the best route to Oli’s school. Biking in Bordeaux is really fun, with plenty of wide bike lanes, cheap bike shares everywhere, and drivers who generally seem to respect both cyclists and pedestrians. Bordeaux seems to get smaller and more manageable every time we bike across it and realize how close things are on two wheels, and we’re grateful for the flat terrain. The city offers free long-term bike loans to residents, and I’ll be picking up my new ride on Monday.
Monday is also Oli’s first day of school, and I think it’ll be a real turning point in our lives in France. For the first time since we’ve been here, we’ll have a routine and a schedule. He is both excited and nervous to attend his French school, but I feel confident that he will thrive there, and that he’ll be speaking French by the spring. I can’t wait to watch him settle in and make some friends. And I’m also excited to have more time to work and write. Because that’s been damn near impossible since we arrived.
One month in, I think we’re all feeling quite happy, rested, and grateful for this experience we’re having together. And looking forward to figuring out what’s to come.