The #1 question I have been asked, since first deciding to move to Paris (a decision that was made in my mind and heart over three years ago) and finally having done it last year, is: "Why?" I get that question a lot less these days now that I've been here a while, but sometimes when I encounter someone new (like a new client who calls my American number and then finds out I'm actually HERE), it surfaces again.
My standard answer, a simple "Because I love it and I've always wanted to live there", for some reason doesn't ever seem to satisfy the askers, who generally respond with an: "Oh", and then a pause that speaks volumes, as in "Oh, well that's nice for you I guess, but honestly I don't see why on earth you'd want to do THAT! What a strange thing for you to want to do." And I know that answer doesn't even come close to cutting it for some of the people closest to me, who would much prefer it if I said: "Oh, I just want to go there for a little while and get it out of my system, and then I'll be back". (But I understand... and I miss you all, too.)
When people ask that question, there is almost always a subtle hint of judgment in it. When I hear the "Why?" asked in that certain tone of voice, I know what's behind it: utter disbelief. Sometimes it's a mild case of surprise, and other times the disbelief is so palpable you'd think I just told them I enjoy picking my nose in public as a hobby -- there's just that hint of distaste in their voices or facial expressions. Once I even had someone physically recoil at the very idea of meeting someone who would actually choose France as a place to live, it was that shocking to them.
The majority of the people who need to ask "Why?" are those who either don't think Paris or France is their idea of a great place to live (usually because they believe all the stories they've heard about the French being difficult but they've never actually MET anyone French), or because they just aren't the sort of people who would even consider living abroad anywhere. I don't mind that these people DON'T like France or DON'T want to try living abroad. But they clearly mind that I DO. C'est la vie, I suppose.
On the other hand, someone who totally "gets it" -- this (to some) outrageous thing I've done, this packing up my life and moving here -- would never need to ask the big "Why?" The ones who get it, they seem to understand that inner need to see and do and explore different things. They don't even necessarily have to be a die-hard francophone or even have ever visited or want to visit France to be on the same page with me on this, although often it transpires that they're as crazy about the place as I am and they want to swap travel stories. These are people who, upon learning where I'm now living, have the immediate reaction of "WOW! That's so great!" and then they want to hear all about it. Maybe they're armchair travelers who just enjoy hearing about other places even if they might never have the opportunity or desire to go there, I don't know. I just know that with people like this, there's never a "Why?" attached to their reaction unless it's asked from a place of genuine interest and curiosity to know what inspired a single woman in her mid-40s to do such an unusual thing.
Even after I've been here for some months now, it's still hard for me to articulate what it is about Paris and France that attracts me so, because it's not just one thing. I could say it's the ambiance. Or the lifestyle. The challenge of learning the beautiful language, or the access to the the art and culture Paris offers. I could say it's a desire to explore the varied regions and architecture of France. I could say it's France's central location in Europe that makes it easier to travel to other places I want to see. All of these would be true statements. I've even gone so far as to quip that I think it must be a past-life thing because I really can't offer a concrete explanation as to why I've wanted to live here even before I'd ever visited. My attempts to explain the "why" aren't even satisfactory to ME. After all, how do you explain to someone, "I had no choice"?
Because my desire to come here goes beyond just my great and genuine love of Paris and France in general. Henry Miller (who wrote his most famous works while living as an ex-pat in Paris in the 1930s) once said,
"One's destination is never a place but rather a new way of looking at things."
In the past few years I've discovered something about myself: the truth. And the truth is that I seem to be someone who is far more interested in having a changing view, a "new way of looking at things", than I am in staying in one place for any length of time, even though it means leaving people I love and all things familiar and "safe". Most people in their 40s are, understandably, settled in their lives and work, and naturally they enjoy the secure feeling of having a place to call home even if they, too, have a certain wanderlust; I'm too busy looking at the horizon to care about that kind of security. Others are happy to satisfy their periodic curiosity about the world by packing a suitcase and taking a vacation; that's no longer enough for me. I want more.
I think I've always been this way; in the past I've exercised this trait by hopping from town to town in my home state of New Jersey every few years. I didn't consciously change residences for the sake of change -- the reasons always seemed necessary under the circumstances, such as not being able to find a roommate or wanting a shorter commute to work. And for five years I bought and lived in a condo, so I did make an effort to put down some roots, although on some level I knew even that was going to be temporary. But on reflection I can see that, short of not enjoying the moving process itself (packing and unpacking is hell), each time I moved I looked forward to the change of scenery and the chance to start something new and fresh. The towns I lived in were all within 30 minutes of one another and of my family's home town, so it's not that the ACTUAL scenery was any different, but with each move I had something new to experience. I enjoyed making each apartment into a home for myself, but within several years I'd be getting restless, and then something would happen that would give me an excuse to move again.
I've been the same way in my professional life, now that I stop to think about it. I've changed professions several times, from clerical/secretarial work, to computer programming/web design, to life coaching, and now to writing (although I think this one's gonna stick!) Even within my corporate I.T. career, I was always looking for the next great project, the next promotion -- I was known, upon hearing good news of a promotion, to ask my boss in the same conversation what I needed to do in order to achieve the NEXT level up!
I guess it's fair to say, I don't just LIKE change, I THRIVE on it. Sure, I have times even here in Paris, like this week, when I'm perfectly happy to hole up here at "home" sometimes for days on end, where I can do my thing in peace and quiet, so I do have those typical Taurean moments of being something of a homebody. But for the most part, I feel happiest when I'm out around people, with friends, seeing or doing something interesting and new. Curiosity may have killed the cat but it keeps me feeling alive!
So perhaps it's appropriate, even natural, that now I'm taking my "roving eye" on the road -- where it belongs! Yes, it's true, I don't have all the comforts of "home" with me here, where I'm living in a furnished rental (albeit a very lovely one) with only a small amount of my personal belongings, the rest sitting in a storage locker "back home". I do miss my family and my friends... but my need to challenge myself and to see, hear and experience new places is stronger than my desire to be with them and to have a place to call "home".
On occasion, when I'm talking to one of my friends or a family member, they'll ask me when I think I'll be back "for good", and I can hear the unspoken fear in their voices (or sometimes they'll come right out and say it: "You're never coming back, are you?") And the truth is, I don't know how to answer them because I don't want to upset them and because I don't really have an answer right now.
I know I'm not ready to go back yet for more than a visit. I suspect it will be some long while before I'm ready to even consider doing that. And I know that if and when I do decide to go back to the U.S. "for good", it won't be to live in New Jersey again (I'm thinking Boston might be nice, I've always liked Boston).
I'm not even sure I want to stay in France "permanently", although so far I'm very comfortable considering everything. Just yesterday I was noticing with some amusement how effortless it is for me to find my way around the city now, even to places I haven't been to before, which is kind of funny when I consider I used to live totally dependent on my car and even a day-trip to NYC gave me anxiety what with figuring out how I was going to get in, out and around the city -- I hated public transportation that much.
I'm settled IN here right now, for the time being, but I haven't settled DOWN. Not here, not yet. And maybe not anywhere. Maybe I'll have to be a whole lot older before I finally decide I'd rather have a comfortable chair and my "shows" on TV more than I'd rather see the Matterhorn or Venice or Santori or The Great Wall or Uluru. I suspect that if I DO settle down somewhere, that decision will be influenced entirely by love, although I'm hoping that any man I fall that much in love with that I'd consider staying put somewhere, will be as in love with seeing the world with me by his side as he is in love with me.
Or maybe I'll never really settle down in the usual sense. Maybe I'll be one of those fantastic and fascinating seniors who gets on a plane or a cruise ship with her laptop (think of it, we'll be an entire generation of computer-savvy white-haired people with bladder-control issues), her walker and some extra-strength Tylenol for her arthritis, and takes off for a safari in Kenya so she can see elephants and giraffes and lions and write about it afterward. I'll be the Adventurous Aunt who brings all the kids interesting souvenirs from far-off places and who writes award-winning best-sellers based on her travels, like the time she got propositioned by the Prime Minister of Some Foreign Country and had to throw a glass of ice water down his trousers to set him straight. Yes, I like the idea of being THAT woman.
It's taken me months to think it through clearly and to put the truth out there, but here it is. The REAL answer to the "Why?" is this: because I have to. I have to if I'm going to be true to myself. I have to if I'm going to live my life authentically and be my own person. I have to if I'm going to be whole in my soul and at peace with myself. I have to despite the fact that I know it upsets and stresses some people I love dearly.
The alternative is unacceptable: to be less than the person I know I am and the person I have the potential to BE. To do anything less than living the way I'm living right now, as insecure as it may be, would be like trying to live someone else's life. And I already pretty much did that up until... well, now. Until fairly recently, I didn't know just how much I was NOT being my true self back home, and it's only now with some time and distance I can see just how "in deep" I was. I wasn't being "fake", not on purpose anyway, but I WAS caught in the perennial trap of often living up (or down) to the expectations and wishes of others. They live their lives a certain way with certain goals and priorities, a way that is perfectly fine -- for them -- and it's taken me this long to realize that their way is just not my way, not any more. I don't blame them, and I don't even really blame myself; I think it was part of wanting to fit in with and please people you love, and we all do that in one way or another. I don't think that this was a conscious thing, although my growing unhappiness the past couple of years definitely showed me that a drastic change was necessary for my well-being. I love my family and enjoy being with them... but I don't fit into that life in suburban New Jersey. I grew up there, and it's a fine place to grow up and to live and work and raise a family, and I am grateful to have so many people there who care about me. But I don't fit in there now. And I was just. Plain. Miserable. Trying. (Whew. There, I said it.)
I'm not miserable any more.
I'm content and at peace all of the time, damn happy most of the time, and sometimes I'm downright disgustingly blissful. I feel free for the first time in a long time. I feel like I can be myself. I know I made the right decision in coming here. The future may be a giant question mark and things are not perfect, but life is very, very good. I hope knowing this -- that I'm happy -- makes up, in part, for the disappointment of those who would much rather hear me say that I hate it and I'm packing up and coming back some time soon. I know they may not like or understand my reasons for being here, but I also know they love me and want me to be happy; they just want me to be happy closer by. And that's OK.
What I know for sure right now is that there are far worse things in life than not knowing what's down the road. I may stop and stay here in France for a long time. Or I may not. I'm OK with not even knowing that myself right now, because I trust I'll know when the time is right to decide where "home" will be next.
And in the meantime, in the words of Muriel Rukeyser:
"The journey is my home."
