Secrets of the French Lifestyle for a Happier New Year
A few surprising shifts I've embraced since moving to Paris
Bonne année les amis ! When janvier (January) rolls around, do you ever feel a mix of conflicting emotions? I do.
I mean, I’m always enthusiastic and hopeful about the perceived new stretch of time that seems to have reset itself in front of each of us, and I guess it’s just in my nature to love “possibility.” But I’ve always also struggled with that classically American, self-imposed pressure to accomplish, to “move forward.” To dream big, to work real hard, to be impressive, and to get shit done.
Since I moved to France though, I’ve grown to see life through a different lens that has sometimes frustrated and challenged me, but has also helped me blossom and even soften a little. I’ve heard this from some of my expat friends in Paris as well, that things just feel different here.
So in this time of change around the new year, where we’re all imagining and exploring and maybe even reinventing, I thought I’d share some of the gifts and opportunities French culture offers up to inspire, strengthen and soothe.
Now don’t get me wrong. Even les français will tell you that France herself can be chiante et stressante (annoying and stressful). But that’s true of anywhere, isn’t it? Here I’ll focus on where I’ve found un peu de magie française (a little french magic), and maybe you can sprinkle a bit into your own sweet life if it feels good.
Practice un tout petit peu (a little bit) of patience.
Parisians will tell you that sometimes service in Paname (a nickname for Paris) can be slower than an escargot. But the fact is, compared to we Americans, the French are more patient than they probably even know. This applies to many areas of life, but never more so than in restaurants and cafés.
I’ve been with French friends (and Monsieur B) plenty of times in a store or a restaurant where we’ve waited more than ten minutes to even be greeted or to get a check we’ve asked for. But you know what? It’s OK. We don’t need everything immediately all the time. We can just sit for a moment and watch people on the street or have a conversation while we wait. It’s just not normally a thing for a French person to say, “Um, ex-CUSE me, we’ve been waiting…”
This slower pace really bugged me at first until I realized, it’s not generally rudeness. It’s simply a different rhythm. Sometimes you’ll see a harried local (or a vigilant tourist) getting agitated by the very notion that they haven’t yet been attended to, but for the most part, everyone relaxes and waits their turn. Not a bad approach, and when you let go of being hyper-aware of how quickly a service person waits upon you, you just might be living a gentler, better life.
Hello. Please. Thank you. Good day.
In France it is absolutely unacceptable to start any conversation (even if you’re buying cigarettes or asking directions) without saying Bonjour (or Bonsoir in the evening). I was surprised when I learned this only after years of traveling in France.
So many people accuse the French of being rude, but in fact they are in some ways a more formal society. If you listen to people interacting, they always greet each other, say please and thank you, and close the conversation with something like bonne journée (have a good day) or au revoir. If those little formalities are missing, the French person on the other end may feel very poorly treated, and that may be reflected back to you.
I wish we could re-infuse a bit of this politeness into our American life these days, instead of just blurting out, “Yeah, can I get a latte?” Four little words. Hello. Please. Thank you. Good day.
The first time Monsieur B visited me in New York City, I found him doing what he always does—actively greeting folks upon entering a store, restaurant, anywhere really, and then saying an audible goodbye before leaving. To hear it in English was so surprising and charming. I remember thinking, “Why the heck don’t we do this here?”
The crazy thing is, weaving small courtesies into your daily life may just make you feel a smidge happier. It’s an honest to goodness mood-lifter for me. It’s like decorating a simple moment with a pinch of shine. If you don’t already do this, try it and let me know.
Quality over quantity.
When French people entertain, they do not aim to impress and overwhelm their guests with an astonishing and enormous variety of items. Instead they may carefully pick just a few things they really like, and generally they’ll serve them in smaller quantities. Smaller glasses, smaller portions of everything from drinks to main courses. It’s so elegant and feels somehow more special. Also, you have room for cheese!
In my own experience, this also applies to stuff. Even though IKEA is popular here, you’ll find that people in general keep, mend and use things longer—including clothes, home essentials, etc. This is an idea I am learning to really embrace, and I feel so good about actively deciding to wait to buy this or that, or to accept something that is imperfect as special or even beautiful.
Work well, but work a little less.
The standard French workweek is 35 hours, and that is largely respected. Private time is a priority. Of course there are exceptions, and with startup culture bubbling here, it may change. But I know some busy young entrepreneurs here who do love and respect their time off, whether that’s lunchtime, evenings, weekends or holidays.
Of course it’s different in the U.S. where vacation is not always promised and emails have a way of finding us at all hours. I myself have wrestled with work culture since moving to France. But I’m not suggesting a radical shift, just the idea of being aware that you deserve ton temps libre (your free time), and that when you take it, you should delight in it and not feel guilty because it is essential to your well being.
Be resilient.
It’s well known that in French life, especially when you’re dealing with things bureaucratic or administrative or process-oriented (like renovating an apartment) you’re going to be frustrated. You’re often going to get a no, or several mais non, ce n’est pas possible (no, that’s not possible). Add that to the expanded waiting phenomenon I mentioned above and you can see where I’m going. Yet, it’s also known that if you persist, you will likely succeed.
When I first arrived, I was shocked that certain things weren’t just easier, and I thought I had a pretty thick skin having lived in New York City for a couple decades. But when I shared that my obstacles (such as trying to get my French driving license) were really eroding my confidence, my French friends and family told me not to worry. C’est normal. Ca va aller. Bon courage. (It’s normal, it’ll be OK. Stay strong.)
And you know what? In absolutely refusing to give up even after failing the road test three times (and even though I’d had my license in the States since age 16), I can proudly announce that I’m the only person in my French family with a real French permis de conduire. #winning
Choose joie.
Here in France we try to delight when we can in the pleasure of simple, good things. A fresh baguette or croissant, a moment on a Parisian terrace when enfin le soleil pointe son nez (the sun finally comes out), a beautifully set table, a walk in the garden or the forest.
In my own enduring search for delight, I recently discovered @madamedelamaison on Instagram and then the lovely Substack of the woman behind it. She’s Ajiri Aki, a fellow American transplant in Paris who’s published a stunning book that’s all about capturing and celebrating the joie of every day. Cheers to that!
Here’s hoping your new year is off to a fulfilling and happy start.
Bonne continuation et bon courage !
Karen
Oh my goodness, oh my goodness, mon dieu! I am just so happy to have stumbled upon you. So many emotions here as I reinvigorate mon francais apres presque 30 ans. And what I feel the most is your midwestern-ness (is that a word?). I am true blue Michigan (five miles from the Ohio border). I feel you!
Great piece, my friend!!!