“How hard can it be?” I thought, as I packed up my entire life into two suitcases.
After a decade of thriving in New York City, I was moving to Paris with a man I’d only met five months prior who was based in the French capital for work.
As I prepared to embark on a new chapter in Paris, I envisioned mornings of flaky croissants and leisurely riverside aperitifs.
I felt fearless, and despite focusing on my advertising career in the US for so many years, I was ready for a new adventure — this time, one led by love.
I thought that creating an equally fulfilling life in Paris would be a piece of cake. Later, I realized I may have been too optimistic.
I struggled to adjust and find work in my field
With no boss to answer to and a Polish passport allowing me to settle in, I began planning my new life, starting with French classes.
Learning the language felt especially tricky when English was spoken at home with my Italian partner and my conversations with the local boulanger were limited.
It took well over a year and an intensive program until I felt comfortable speaking French in public.
And yet, taking language classes, going on solo strolls in the labyrinth that composed the Marais, and planning meals for my partner wasn’t what I’d moved countries for.
I needed something to define myself, and I wanted to work.
Luckily, the French capital has many global advertising agencies. I updated my résumé and began sending a weekly barrage of emails in hopes of landing a job doing what I knew best.
Unfortunately, I received barely any replies to my extensive queries. Despite having years of experience, I was an outsider with limited connections. Networking wasn’t as easy here as it was for me back home.
Whereas Americans can be quite friendly, many French locals felt tougher to crack and not as open to expanding their heavily curated social network. The language barrier didn’t help, either.
With no work prospects, I accepted my expatriate fate and took on the role of teaching English. It was certainly not my dream job, but the 2009 recession and my foreigner status left me little choice.
Soon, the pen became my best and most reliable companion
Alongside my teaching job, I took on a few freelance writing gigs, but I still felt untethered and lonely. I struggled to connect with French coworkers, who seemed private and already settled in their cliques.
Other than my partner, I had no one to turn to — at least not in my time zone. So, I went online.
Eventually, I launched a blog to share my experience shifting cultures, which proved much more challenging than I’d anticipated. I also began traveling with my partner and documenting our adventures.
Writing a blog gave me structure and helped me make sense of a world where I often felt like an impostor trying to earn access to a members-only club.
Without a bustling social life filling my calendar, I finally had time to launch my namesake handbag business, a creative endeavor I had dreamed of for years.
Once I started to earn a living, I felt much more at ease in Paris.
After years of putting myself out there, I found my place in Paris
It took nearly five years for me to find my footing in Paris.
Through my work, I began to create a new identity for myself. I also stayed persistent in my quest to form lasting friendships and make the city feel at home.
After months of putting myself out there by attending blogger meet-ups and dinner parties, I eventually found my people.
During this entire process, I was fortunate to have a supportive partner who held a stable job and swapped his Italian for French with ease, allowing me the time to pursue my career dreams. If not for him, I’m not sure how I would’ve built a life in Paris on my own.
Today, I feel grateful to call this city home. The path to get here was certainly not smooth, but after 16 years as an adopted local, I understand that the challenges were all part of the process.
As the saying goes, petit à petit l’oiseau fait son nid (little by little, the bird makes its nest).
Read the full article here
