Showing posts with label french living. Show all posts
Showing posts with label french living. Show all posts

Monday, 11 June 2018

A Parisian Life - Part Two


I hope that you enjoyed Part One of my interview with Tahnee (@treasuredjourneysin which she talks about the decision to move her family from Australia to Paris for a year and gives many useful pointers regarding the preparation phase of this family adventure. If you missed it, you can find it here.  

In today's blog, Tahnee continues the story. Even though we haven't met, I have so enjoyed hearing about her family's experiences; many of which brought back memories of similar triumphs and struggles for my own family. 


You chose to live in Paris. This sounds very romantic and exotic. I’d love to hear why you chose Paris and some snippets from your Parisian life?

We chose Paris for our love of the city and, yes, it is so very romantic. There is beauty everywhere you look. There’s a village feel in each arrondissement so, even though it is a big city, it can feel intimate too. Every member of my family loves this city and, in my humble opinion, Paris truly is the most beautiful, wonderful, enchanting, interesting, history filled city. I have traveled a bit and Paris always takes my breath away. I never took it for granted, and every day we lived there I would reiterate this to my children. I would say to them as we walked around to breathe it all in and soak in all the beauty. Even in the car we looked at everything, as if it was the first time we were seeing things. Having a sunroof was awesome for being able to look up, too! Paris is everything you read about, every cliché, it is also what you want it to be. I believe that you make it yours, and if you have eyes of appreciation and a spirit of positivity, then the way you view things really reflects what you’re giving out. In effect, we saw Paris as food for our souls, so we were very well fed!

Our decision to move relied heavily on finding the right school for our children. We knew that this could make or break the experience for them. They needed to be happy, as this would be the place that they would spend the majority of their time. I had researched schools in France and, after a very long process of elimination, chose either Lyon or Paris. My husband and I visited both cities in May 2015 on our reconnaissance trip, but when we walked into the school in Paris, we knew instantly that it was the right one for them.

Initially, we were aiming for 18 months away. This we felt was too short a time to put the children into the French system. It would have taken a good six months or longer for them to acquire the language- so they probably wouldn’t have understood most subjects taught. We didn’t want to potentially set them up for failure, as this would have had a negative impact on them emotionally. If we were moving there for a few years, then yes, we would have gone down the road of the French schooling system. Instead, we chose the British school of Paris, where the curriculum was in English, but they were taught French there too. Joining after-school sports clubs where all communication was in French was a good compromise for us. (Although our son’s soccer coach hailed from Manchester, so when he had trouble understanding, some English was spoken!).

I needed a city that could keep me busy during the school day. There is so much to do and see in Paris; one can never be bored there, there is always something new to discover. Even sitting on a park bench and watching the sun change the way the tiles on roofs look, and the buildings reflected in different light, is magical. Something as simple as this made me happy. I didn’t need to be in a museum or shopping: just being there was enough, hearing French spoken, the ambience, just everything about the city made me happy. That said, most days we would set off to discover new areas, and walk the streets. Our compromise after the terrorist attacks, though, was that we drove quite a bit more. We had arrived in October 2015, three-and-a-half weeks before the Paris attacks, and this really shook us up. I was a little hesitant at first to use the metro, as I felt very vulnerable. My thought process was that if something happened and I was stuck underground and couldn’t get to my children, I’d freak out, which made me a little anxious. So we drove a lot and felt more in control. This proved to be invaluable as, rather than traveling underground, we saw where we were going, and really got to know the city quite well. I’d even say we got to know some sneaky side streets!

Going to the markets to buy food, not being allowed to touch produce, but having it being chosen for you wasn’t my greatest joy. You are sternly told off if you touch any fruit or vegetable or pick it up to smell it. I never took to this, as sometimes I would be given produce that I wouldn’t have chosen for myself. Needless to say, the French all seemed to accept this and waited patiently in long queues to purchase. 

There is a real sense of village life within a big city when you use the local markets. I got to know the vendors quite well, as I bought everything from individual sellers; the fruit and veggie lady, the cheese man, the baker, the butcher, the fishmonger etc, so food shopping was an entertaining time for me and the shopkeepers were all very tolerant of my French.

After some time, it was nice to see people that I knew or recognized on the streets or in shops, and so nice when sales assistants recognised me and made conversation.

With children in school there is a certain routine that you need to adhere to. My husband and I would explore during the day but as soon as school finished we were back to routine: sport training, homework, just like life back in Australia. But nearly every weekend, if there wasn’t any sport on, we travelled. We drove to different cities and loved exploring the beautiful country that we were calling home. We’d involve the kids and ask where they’d like to go, and found by doing this that they had more of an invested interest in where we were going. Our eldest son became quite good at researching nice restaurants to go to as well!

If we weren’t traveling on the weekends, we would go into Paris and once again explore. The kids all had favourite areas and places to go, so they would ask to go to these.

One thing I would laugh at was when tourists would ask me for help, thinking I was French (which I loved). They were almost always relieved to hear me answer them in English!

Life wasn’t all roses though. The French are very good at making simple things hard to achieve and do. In fact they having a saying, for this - 'pourquoi faire simple quand on peut faire compliqué' (why make it simple when you can make it complicated). Paperwork, no one taking responsibility and passing things onto other people who then refer you back to the person you have just seen, waiting in hospitals whilst all the French people were seen before us even after they arrived after us, plus a heap more interesting times were all a test of our patience. If patience isn’t your thing, you sure learn to get some after living in France.

A major difference between Australia and France is that in France in order to enroll your child in any physical activity, you need a doctor's certificate, stating that your child is fit to play or participate in the activity. I found this quite amusing. So, for every activity, a new certificate was required, and once the year was up, you needed to get another one! Needless to say many trips to our doctor were made for the compulsory fit-to-play slip.

As for swimming lessons - just forget it! I went to the pool to enroll my youngest son. Of course, I was told he needed a doctor's slip. I made an appointment that week and got the slip. Back at the pool, I was asked for the slip. "Yes here it is." Oh, now he needs to have a test. Right. When can we do that? Any day is good and any time. Fabulous. The following week, we presented ourselves for the test. First question - did I have the doctor's slip. "Yes, I am here for the test." "Great."At this point, she phoned through to the instructor, to then inform me that she was sorry but all classes were full! Remember that I mentioned being frustrated with processes? This was just one example.



You have three children. How easily did they make the transition into French living? Can you tell us a bit about their experiences of school, making friends, adjusting to new routines, food etc?

My children have always loved Paris, so moving there was met with excitement. Yes, there were many tears when we left home and there was a period of them being unsettled, missing family and friends, missing certain foods from home, missing our dog, and just missing Australia. Certainly, the terror attacks shook them all deeply. Never had I ever had a conversation with them about what they would do if a terrorist entered their school in Australia. But, after the attacks, these were confronting conversations we had to have, and also to give them advice on what to do in the unlikely event of this happening. They were all very scared to begin with, my daughter in particular. She would become so anxious and teary when we were in the city. Slowly they all regained confidence in the city we loved so much. It was a tough lesson in resilience. I said to them “the Parisians aren’t going anywhere, this is their home, and ours, too, now. We need to stay strong and continue living and not let this ruin our time here”. And so this is what we did. We continued our journey.

Once they all made new friends, life for them became very settled. The thing about going to a school where the majority are ex-pats, is that friendships are formed very quickly. Friends become like family, and their school was extremely inviting, inclusive and welcoming. My oldest two children had the privilege of going on school camps: my son to the Hautes-Alpes, south east of France near the Italian border and my daughter to the Ardèche, south of France. Due to the terror attacks, they couldn’t take the train so the school hired coaches and the usual three-hour trip took them eleven hours. They both came back saying the seven-day camp was one of their school highlights, and one-and-a-half years later, they still talk of it fondly.

They also all loved the school refectory! Lunch each day was a cooked meal: a meat, fish or vegetarian option plus salad bar and yoghurts. Lunchtime was a lot longer there, and very social. They shared a meal with their friends and sat and ate all together. My children miss this, as they say here in Australia kids are quick to eat and go off to play. They miss the social aspect of enjoying a nice meal together. I, too, miss not having to worry about lunchboxes! The food in France in general was never a difficulty for the children as they are used to eating a broad variety of cuisines. There was a lot to offer if you looked for good bistros and restaurants, and avoided the typical tourist traps!

My oldest son loves to play soccer. His school team won the championship for soccer playing against many other schools, international as well as French. He also made it to the final 16 boys to be chosen for the Paris St Germain junior training squad. These are memories he will treasure, I’m sure. 

Australian kids are quite sporty in general, with a lot of healthy competition. Whilst never excelling in sport in Australia, my daughter managed to do really well in France. She was the fastest girl swimmer in her year group in France, something she had never achieved in Australia. In fact, she wouldn’t even try to compete in Australia. So her confidence really grew in France, where she also played soccer. She was fortunate to be selected to sing solos in music concerts, participate in drama productions, and play her guitar in music concerts.

The school was co-ed, something that all my children weren’t used to, as they were at single-sex schools in Australia. They all really enjoyed this, and found it balanced things out. My daughter would often have a kick about with the boys at lunch and recess, and my youngest son had an army of girls willing to look after him, which he loved!

When it was time to leave Paris, they were all devastated. They didn’t want to return home. The sadness was heart breaking. Such strong friendships were formed, it was very, very hard to say goodbye. They all asked us not to take them back to Australia, they really wanted to stay in Paris. They had all grown up in different ways, and we were really seeing them start to blossom when it was time to leave. This was such a shame, I felt like we should have stayed for another 6 months (at least!). 

In our next and last conversation (Part Three), I ask Tahnee about some of the funny experiences that they had whilst living in Paris and, now that they are back in Australia, how they view their French adventure. Tahnee also has a few words to say to anybody who might be dreaming of doing something similar. Once again, thank-you Tahnee, for sharing your experiences so generously. 

A bientôt! 
PS If you would like to read more stories from our family's French adventure, please don't hesitate to contact me on cb222@me.com for a print copy of 'But you are in France, Madame' or click on the following link for a Kindle copy.





Wednesday, 23 November 2016

Towards the title


A few things have brought a smile to my face recently.... I reached 100 K views on my Google plus page, there was a slowing down in the number of Instagram followers who were deserting me each day (my daughter keeps telling me to stop taking social media so personally), the banner and publicity material that I had ordered for my market stall arrived and looked, to me anyway, beautiful and exactly as I had hoped, the flyer for my book talk at the library was finalised, and the attendees for the talk itself ran to a waiting list with a full-house on the day. But, nothing compared to having 'But you are in France, Madame' placed on the shelves of a proper bookstore.

I'll be lucky to pocket a couple of dollars per book sold, so the thrill came not from the expectation of financial gain. It came from a sense of validation. The book industry is a tough industry to enter, understand and stand out in and the last three years (two for the writing and one since pushing the button on 'publish') have been hard, filled with self-doubt and disillusionment. I needed this small something to help keep me going.



For those who do not know my family's story, I began writing 'But you are in France, Madame' several months after arriving back in Australia after 3 1/2 years of living in the French Alps. The first few months for the family (years for me) were difficult. I talked a lot, in those early days, about what we had experienced in France. Eventually, talking was not enough and I started to write. Admittedly, I had no certainty of ever finishing something as enormous and unknown as a book and even less of publishing it. I wish I had known how things would turn out as I would have enjoyed the process so much more. Throughout the two years that I was writing, a long list of magnificent book titles presented themselves to me, revealed their unsuitability in the days that followed and were swiftly relegated.

You don't eat sushi outside Paris came, went, came back and stuck and was the title that I eventually used to submit my book to a selection of Australian publishing houses. It was a throw-away line from one of our French friends. We had met in Australia but caught up with him and his family in Italy, in the beautiful city of Florence at the end of our first year abroad. It was a joy to see them and to re-live the time that had passed since both families had undertaken their latest adventures. Affected by the difficulties that were stymying our transition to successful French living, we nonetheless tried to conversationally minimise our deceptions. Our host was not to be fooled. "You don't eat sushi outside Paris", he answered. This was his way of reassuring us and acknowledging that there were indeed rules to be followed but that it was particularly difficult to follow them if you didn't know that they even existed.

I see now that this first title was too obscure plus I didn't hear back from the publishers, so went back to work re-drafting the entire manuscript, including the title.

I loved my next attempt and even had a cover made up for Five go to France (see above). I don't have short hair and my husband is not blond, but the illustrator somehow captured a little of the personalities of the three children in her drawing, despite me giving her only the title and not much else to go on. Potential copyright issues from the publishers of Enid Blyton, whose books I loved as a child, made me pull the rug on that title too.

The story behind the next and final title But you are in France, Madame is one that I have recounted before. It was the conclusion to an actual conversation that I had and a subtle reminder of the existence of a special French something that we were learning to live and appreciate. It felt right, especially when coupled with the photo taken by my husband of our son, running through the streets of Noyers-sur-Serein on one of our family holidays.

My French friends, on the other hand, they smile and nod their heads when they first see the book in print. They require no further explanation of the title.