Living a Life I Never Expected in France: Autumn Edition
Or, Where the Hell Have I Been All Month? Plus How to Pronounce Your Name in French, and a Lot of Links You Might Want to Save for Your Next Trip
Salut mes chères et chers autour du monde (Hi my dear friends around the world),
Waouh, ça fait un bail ! (Wow, it’s been a while!)
If you’re new here, bienvenue. I’m Karen, an American creative living in Paris since 2022, after meeting my (now) (French) husband in the middle of the pandemic and picking up my whole life in NYC for a grand love-induced relocation. If you like to wander—with wonder—through a francophile dream of French language and culture (with all the accompanying laughter and tears), bon ben you’ve stumbled into the right place and I couldn’t be more delighted to have you along.
To all my returning flâneurs et flâneuses, ça fait plaisir de vous revoir !! How is l’automne treating you so far?
I’ve been dying to get back here to you all, and there are a lot of silly and sweet adventures to share, so I thought this week I’d do a bit of a catch-up before diving deeper into other topics ahead. Please do leave me comments—I read them all!!
What the Heck Have You Been Doing All This Time in France, Karène ?
I’ve been away from Substack for a few weeks, and I’ve been getting so many kind notes from you beautiful people asking what I’ve been up to and even mentioning that je vous manque (you miss me—yep, that’s how you say it). I’ve missed you too!
Autumn is sans aucun doute (without a doubt) my favorite time of year. Do there exist beings whose very spirits wake up at just the moment when others go dormant? That’s me. This year, my third autumn as a real French resident, is off to an inspiring but challenging start, as I look toward a new chapter in my work life, in a new country. It’s fun, overwhelming, and a bit scary.
Before We Dive In, Un Tout Petit Peu de French Culture
You may have noticed that I wrote my name as Karène above. I did that because I hope it may help you one day in your French travels. Pourquoi ? (Why?) Well, you may need to learn how to pronounce your own name in French, and it may not be what you think. Before I learned this, I had multiple awkward situations where my name simply could not be found on an important list or two. Also, that’s not how you write my name in French—read on.
If you don’t care about your name and just want to see what’s doin’ in Paris (and the French Countryside) these days, you know what to do—go ahead and scrolllll on downnnn…
What’s in a (French) Name?
OK, to illustrate how you need to learn to pronounce your name in French, I’ll use myself as an example. My full name, which is Karen Bussen (pronounced in English “KA’-ren BUHS’-sen” like a bus that drives around town), had to be transformed en français à l’orale (in spoken French) as “kah-RENN’ bue-SENN’.” You see, there is no “Karen” in French. The closest would be Karine or maybe Corinne or Caroline.
Side Note: Don’t get me started about how your dog name needs to follow certain naming conventions based on the year it was born. And don’t get me started about how the French government (some would say with good reason) can veto your baby name.
Anyhow, the crazy thing is that de tout ce que j’ai appris (from everything I’ve learned) as a fluent French speaker, I’d assume my name would be spelled Karène Bussène.
But in fact, when I pronounce it in the French way, every single French person spells it correctly. But when I look at my real (English) name from the standpoint of a French language learner, I’d expect the French to pronounce it something like Karahn Bussahn 🤷♀️
My Point: Learn to pronounce your own name so that the French can understand and spell it. That pronunciation may not follow exact phonetic rules. If you want to know how to pronounce your own name in French, leave me a comment below et je vais faire de mon mieux (I’ll do my best 😚). Also, my own name took me years to figure out because no one ever brought it up in school. Je vous en prie.
OK, now let’s get into it all. Here’s what I’ve been getting up to while living in France since last we met here…with photos to prove it!
1. Prioritizing Friends in Paris—and Munich
I’ve said this before but it is such an unexpected miracle in my life since I moved to France—I’ve been gifted with a magnificent and growing group of new friends, all of whom are charming and fascinating, a few of whom already feel like true old friends.
In New York, I used to spend much of my time alone, and to be fair, I’m an introvert at heart. I also remember Monsieur B telling me before we married that he had a very simple life and rarely went out. How things have changed for us both! Happily, we now have to manage a flourishing social calendar, and we are really enjoying that.
And this past month we had friends in Europe for a blow-out birthday celebration at the 191st Oktoberfest in Munich. So ya! We donned our dirndls and lederhosen and let loose on the Theresienwiese, among other great spots.
Move to France Tip: Your Social Life May Completely and Unexpectedly Change.
Another unique thing about living in Paris is that people want to come here. As in, everyone, all the time. So we are often arranging coffees, dinners, lunches and weekends with friends from all over the world. This year, that’s been the case ever since la rentrée in September after summer vacation, and we’ve had so much fun hosting chez nous in Paris and à la campagne (in the countryside).
But since you know I like to keep it real, I’ll tell you that I’ve been struggling lately with time management, and it’s been interesting how I’ve chosen my connections with people I love over merely “getting shit done.”
I know I’ll find the right balance in the coming months, because alas, I must at times “get shit done,” but whereas in the past I would’ve definitely been beating myself up about this, I’m trying to give myself a workaholic break in favor pursuing connection and simple happiness. Do you know what I mean? Do you have any tips for me?
Work-life-fun-friend balance—c’est tellement français, non ?
2. Restaurant Hopping in the City of Light
I didn’t know when I first met Monsieur B how incredibly compatible we were in the realm of gastronomy. We both adore cooking and eating and discovering flavor, although I think he blames me for feeding him too well.
This month we were so very lucky to be invited by friends to the Hôtel Shangri-La for a magnificent Chinese dinner in their restaurant étoilé (Michelin-starred restaurant). The wines, the Peking duck, the lobster, and most importantly the company—inoubliable (unforgettable) !
On the complete other end of the resto spectrum, we accidentally happened upon this little gem of a corner dive bar that apparently has the cheapest (but still good) poulet rôti (roast chicken) in Paris, the price of which hasn’t changed since 2002.
We first stumbled in on a weekday evening when— ah mince !—no chicken was to be had (it’s mainly served at lunch and on weekend nights till 20h00 / 8PM). But we made do at a tiny sidewalk table, happily watching the world go by and enjoying un délicieux pâté et du vin rouge !
The folks there were so sympa (nice), we came back for the chicken later that week and found it to be solid and yes, very well-priced, if not revolutionary. Adorably, there was no choice on the menu. Madame nous a dit que il y avait une salade oeuf mayo suivie par le fameux poulet rôti avec ses frites. (The lady in charge told us it was a kind of deviled egg salad followed by the famous roasted chicken and fries).
I happen to dig that kind of choice-free thing occasionally, and the ambiance of the place charmed me with its checkered tablecloths and long tables packed with laughing diners. I wish we had something like it near us.
Neighborhood Tip: If you end up in this part of the 19ème arrondissement, have a hilly stroll through the gorgeous Parc des Buttes-Chaumont with its massive rock outcroppings and its rotonde perched atop. You can even picnic there or stop for a drink at the park’s lively guinguette, named for the artist Rosa Bonheur.
Not pictured above are all the other spots I hopped around to, including Le Bonaparte, a simple café that’s great for le déjeuner (lunch) just a few steps away from the now chiant (annoying), Emily-in-Paris-infested Cafe de Flore in Saint Germain des Près. Je vais prendre une omelette au fromage avec un verre de Chablis s’il vous plaît (I’ll have a cheese omelette with a glass of Chablis, please).
And a highlight of my month, which was a very special tea time with my inspirational friend Jane in the Jardin d’Hiver (Winter Garden) at the Hotel de Crillon. We were daintily seated next to one another on a neutral-toned lush banquette and spilled the tea (figuratively) on all our exciting plans while sipping aromatic tisanes from paper-thin tasses porcelaines (porcelain cups).
Pro tip: At the Hôtel de Crillon, ask for a table outside if the terrace is open. Heres how to do it if you’re feeling chic (and you are!) And as a special treat, click on the audio below to hear Monsieur B pronouncing it so you can, too 😎
“Bonjour Madame/Monsieur. Auriez-vous une place sur la terrasse s’il vous plaît ?”
3. Wine Tasting in Paris: a Burgundy Masterclass and a Soirée aux vins with Friends
We attended an October blind tasting at my favorite jewel box of a wine shop, Comptoir des Elixirs, Rue du Bac. If you get to Paris, stop in and ask for Marco or Margot. They’re both the best. The subject of this particular evening (it changes monthly) was the wines of la Côte de Beaune, one of my favorite regions en Bourgogne. When Marco broke out a map of the local geology, my handsome and cartographically obsessed husband naturally stood up, inspected the topography, and guessed the first appellation on the very first try. Oui, il est doué (yep, he’s good) !
Next, we joined our fellow wine-loving friends for une soirée aux vins hosted in what can only be described as my actual future dream Parisian apartment (Monsieur B, are you reading this? 😍), with its point d’Hongrie wood floors, its soaring ceilings, and a huge picture window framing la Tour Eiffel as she sparkled against the velvet autumn sky.
I cherish these evenings with friends because they are a sweet collaboration between people who love exploring their senses and learning while also exchanging ideas, jokes and good cheer.
Whoever is hosting the soirée generally (and generously) invites me to help choose the wines, which is always a treat. Everyone brings something delicious to nibble on, and then Monsieur B and I tag-team by popping up off the couch with tasting notes (moi) and delightful tales of French history and geology (guess who? 🤭 🥰)
For French Wine Nerds—a Side Note: a while back I wrote about studying for my latest specialization, the French Wine Scholar. Earlier this year I also had the honor of joining a jury of all-female dégustatrices (tasters) for a global wine competition in Beaune, the heart of the Burgundy wine world.
And drumroll please…je viens de découvrir (I just found out) that I’ve been accepted to participate on a tasting panel for the Prix des Lecteurs (Readers Prize) of my favorite wine magazine, la Revue de vin de France (RVF). More on that le mois prochain (next month).
4. Dealing with Some Minor Health Issues
Ne vous inquietez pas (don’t worry). We’re both fine, just middle-aged hotties living our best life in France but with your basic Gen X issues 😂. Also, I do plan to write a piece about my experience with the French healthcare system hopefully soon, so let me know if you have any questions.
My issue is a chronic 2-year-old running injury which happened during an interval session with my French running club. It really threw me for a loop because normally I’m not plagued with anything, especially when running. Mais malgré tous mes efforts chez le médecin traitant, le kiné, le masseur, le chiropracteur, deux médecins de sport, un radiologue, et franchement beaucoup plus (But despite all my efforts at my primary care doc, the PT, the massage therapist, the chiropractor, two sports doctors, a radiologist, and frankly a lot more), nothing seemed to work. Rien. I had to quit the club, quit running entirely.
Donc, environs il y a trois mois (So, about three months ago), after a period of being really depressed and kind of hopeless about it, my most badass and sporty friend encouraged me to push forward and find another solution. I followed her advice and now have toute une nouvelle équipe (a whole new team)—un nouveau kiné, un podologue et un ostéopathe (a new PT, a podiatrist and an osteopath) who are working together to help me. The latest mix is dry needling, hamstring strengthening, psoas massage and des nouvelles semelles orthopédiques (new orthopedic shoe inserts).
And after nearly two and a half years, I feel that I’m finally healing 🙌
Self-aware side note: I’m not comparing my small injuries to anything major that others are suffering. I’ve done my best to keep it all in perspective and I’m normally so optimistic, but you know what? The constant low-grade pain made me miserable, almost despondent—and that’s just being honest.
For Francophiles with Chronic Pain: Thanks to another friend who is a dancer, I also discovered a floor technique called Munz Floor that is changing the way I stretch, and I just want to do it all the time because it feels so damn good. It’s the slowest-ever spiraled movements, and it’s like a turtle-speed massage of your internal organs!
The method was created by a French former principal dancer, Alexandre Munz. He has a couple of books which are in French but which have detailed photos. I’m currently using his first book, L’Extraordinaire Pouvoir des Fascias en Mouvement and am officially a super fan. Forget Swifties, people. I’m a Munzie for life!
5. Planning (and Re-planting) Our Garden in the French Countryside
First off, un énorme merci (a big thank you) to all of you who answered my cries for help with our garden here just to the southwest of Paris. Notre beau jardin was created by my mother-in-law, whom I never had the chance to meet. She was a master gardener and created the whole thing from scratch about twenty-five years ago. Although I was a florist for years in New York, I was never a gardener and having grown up in apartments, never had a chance to plant anything until now.
Bref (in short) I took all your advice, plus Monsieur B was kind enough to call in someone who knows what’s up—the lovely gardener who has been trimming trees for the family for years. He came over and actually walked through the whole space, then gave us all the apples from his own garden to make an easy and delicious tarte aux pommes, which would be great and very pretty on your Thanksgiving table. Don’t get me started on what it’s like being an American (who loves Thanksgiving) living in France.
Then this dear-hearted gardener invited us to go to a garden center the same day with him and his wife, and he helped us understand what would work chez nous. I forgot to mention that he also bought me an orchid plant (see photo below). Take it from me as a former die-hard New Yorker: this would not happen in the Big Apple. He also later ripped out all the dead buis (boxwoods) I mentioned last time and planted all the new things we bought, giving me confidence that they will live.
He Got Me a Present for Our Country Garden!
I just can’t tell you how much it pleases me when my sweetheart surprises me with something thoughtful. Last week, when he returned from a work trip to Le Mans, he’d stopped along the way and found a thing I think is absolute genius. I’m sure to you seasoned gardeners out there this is not a revelation, but hey, I’m new to the jardin party!
His trunk was stacked with biodegradable discs filled with perfectly spaced bulbs. He got me five of two different types, each of which has 45 bulbs—and although I’ve never been good at math, I think that’s gonna be some 450 flowers next spring de février à mai (from February to May)! I mean, can you even?!
Alors, les ami.e.s (OK friends), I shall leave you, but as always, only temporarily. In the meantime, remember that even when skies are dark and cloudy and it’s just Monday and you’re more than 100 years old, you can still float above it all and look great while doing so! Allez !
J’espère que vous allez profiter bien d’un excellent week-end ! (I hope you have an excellent weekend!)
On se voit très bientôt ici pour une autre belle balade (we’ll see each other here again very soon for another lovely stroll).
Bises 😘
Lovely post, Karen. I lived in Paris (mais "ça fait un bail") and speak very good French but always learn new expressions from you. French folks don't have too much trouble with my first name since I simply become "Marie." My more Anglo-centric friends favor "Méré." My Irish family name is always more of a problem. I spell it out "F comme François, deux E comme dans une omelette..."
I’ve just returned from Paris (and a trip through Champagne and Alsace) and miss it already!
People were kind and patient, but “Erin” is confusing for the French, seemingly, and my French isn’t rapid fire, at all, so when panicking I would say my name is Pierre. Pierre Chateauneuf-du-Pape.