As an American, Moving to France Changed My Lifestyle and Habits

As someone who’s spent most of her adult life in major cities like New York and Berlin, I never thought I’d be able to live without the conveniences of a fast-paced, populous environment.

Then, the COVID-19 pandemic hit, and it was harder than ever for my husband and me to make ends meet in our centrally located Berlin apartment. In 2021, we decided to move to a small village near his family in France, where we could get more support.

The adjustment was extreme. Compared to Berlin’s population of over 3.5 million, there were only 60 people living in the village, and most of them were over retirement age.

The change was just what we needed, though. We spent a little over two years in that petite village before moving to a bigger city in France, but the brief stay taught me a lifetime’s worth of lessons.

Though I now live in Lyon, I’m still able to move at that slower rhythm and savor every moment more than I ever could in New York or Berlin — and that’s all thanks to what I’ve learned from moving to France.

I started eating seasonally and exploring new recipes

There are a handful of fruits and vegetables that I can find year-round in France, like zucchini and tomatoes. On the other hand, I rarely see produce like watermelon, asparagus, and squash outside their prime growing seasons.

This was initially frustrating after living in Berlin, where I could get anything I wanted, whenever I wanted — but this “inconvenience” turned out to be a gift, because it forced me out of my comfort zone.

I was inspired to explore local farmers markets, where I discovered ingredients I might have never known (like mirabelles, a sweet type of plum that’s only available in summer) and got helpful tips on how to use them in my meals from local vendors.

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Although I’ve had to say goodbye to my daily avocado toast, I’ve welcomed a whole host of new and traditional recipes into my roster, and I feel more tuned into the seasons because of it.

Now, winter is all about rich pumpkin and onion soups, whereas buttered radishes and stuffed artichokes dominate spring — and all of it tastes that much better because of my patient anticipation.

My meals aren’t just about food anymore

Growing up, my family ate dinner quickly and in front of the TV, so I was out of my element the first time I sat down for a four-hour French meal.

In France, dinner is often a long, drawn-out affair with lively debates about politics and pop culture … and no phones. My first meal with our French neighbors felt a little uncomfortable, but now, I’m in love with the tradition.

That’s not to say that I eat every meal this way — my husband and I still enjoy our fair share of food in front of the latest episode of our favorite shows — but when I do sit down to dine with others, I am more deeply connected to both my table-mates and what we’re being served.

I’m more organized with my chores and errands

Even now that I’m back in a city, I’ve noticed the same rule applies across France: There’s no guarantee that a resource will be available when you need it.

Where I live, restaurants offer limited dining hours, pharmacies close for lunch, nothing is open on Sunday afternoons, and dryers for clothes are basically nonexistent.

If I want to have what I need, whether that’s toilet paper or dry laundry, I have to really think ahead. As a result, I’ve become more organized and less rushed in so many ways.

For instance, I’ve come to enjoy the slowness of hanging my clothes to dry. I love the way the fresh air provides a better odor than any dryer sheet, and the fact that air-drying is more environmentally friendly is just the cherry on top.

Sunday closures have also helped me drink less on Fridays, so that I’m not hungover on Saturday when it’s time for shopping. As a result, I started cutting back on alcohol altogether.

In France, my tasks get done faster and sooner — and I feel better doing them.

I’ve learned to respect my time off

As a full-time freelance writer, setting work-life boundaries has never been my strong suit.

Work culture in France feels different from the rise-and-grind mindset in places like New York. It took a while to disentangle myself from the belief that I had to live to work, not the other way around.

One weekend, a few months after moving to France, I dodged a call from a French work connection and immediately felt sick to my stomach.

The following week, when I rang up the woman who’d called, she said something that completely reset my system: “Don’t worry about not picking up. Weekends are sacred.”

Now, anytime I feel the urge to clock a few hours on a day off or the guilt of not responding to an email, her words ring in my ears and remind me of what’s important — my happiness, not my productivity.