Most of us born and raised in the United States never give a thought to taking up residence elsewhere. We are taught from birth we live in the greatest country on Earth, the land of the free and the home of the brave, a democratic republic in which all men are created equal, where seldom is heard a discouraging word and the skies are not cloudy all day. If that was never 100% true, it was close enough. Social Science classes taught us a lot about the rest of the world and we thought it might be a nice place to visit but we wouldn’t want to live there. We had stable politics, highly arable landmass, sufficient energy supplies and we lived in a temperate zone. Hell, we had Yellowstone National Park, Disneyland and the NFL! Besides, all our doctors were here. Aside from living in a yellow submarine, what could be better?
Then came an absurd war in Vietnam, where some of our friends got drafted and eventually killed or maimed. Potential draftees packed up all their cares and woes and fled to Canada and Mexico. Some of them never returned. They wrote back extolling the virtues of socialized medicine, the lack of race discrimination, a better diet, a live-and-let-live philosophy, no guns. College kids spent summers in Europe and came back impressed by the food, the art and the attitudes. Magazines published articles about people living longer lives in Blue Zones like Sardinia, Italy and Ikaria, Greece, the Nicoya Peninsula of Costa Rica and Okinawa, Japan.
As life in the USA got more expensive, American retirees who once might have opted for Florida or Arizona began casting an eye abroad for bargains. They found them in Portugal, Panama, Costa Rica, Ecuador, Uruguay and our old pal, Mexico. In the latter, large clusters of Americans settled in Lake Chapala, San Miguel de Allende, Puerto Vallarta and Baja California, the latter including the esteemed Bob Simmons, hero filmmaker of Last Tango In Gainesville. Good old Texas boys like Gilbert Shelton ran off to Paris in 1985 and never came back. Interesting, but what of it? Most of us are lifers. And when them furriners came over here for that World Cup thing, they fell in love with our Waffle Houses, ice machines and ranch dressing.
Maybe, but more dyed-in-the-wool Americans are crossing the pond every year for a look-see at how the other half lives, and only 6% of U.S. travelers to Europe in 2025 said it was their first time flying there. Many go multiple times a year, so there must be something abroad that captures their fancy, draws them in and brings them back for more. They might not be ready to move yet, but that old question applies now more than ever: How ya gonna keep ‘em down on the farm after they’ve seen Paree?
Paris Swings Like A Pendulum Do….
Boston and New York are my two favorite cities in the United States. There’s a lot to see and do there and it’s not necessary to drive. Both have first-class public transportation which actually makes driving counterproductive. Same with Paris. The Metro (subway) and buses are moderately-priced and Uber is everywhere. And why would you drive when there’s so much to look at? Paris is esteemed as a receptacle of great art but the city is a majestic art piece itself. It’s not one museum, it’s 105 kilometers of intentional beauty. It was designed to be lived in.
Today’s Paris is not an accident. In the 1850s-70s, Baron Haussmann tore up the medieval mess and redrew the city, with wide boulevards that frame the monuments like camera shots. The city is filled with 6-story cream limestone buildings with iron balconies, all the same height so that nothing competes for attention. Rooflines of zinc and slate turn silver in the rain. The goal was to make the city feel harmonious from any street corner. It worked.
Artists call Paris the City of Light for a reason. The Seine cuts the city in half, and the light bounces off water, stone and glass all day. Impressionists like Monet and Renoir literally invented a new style trying to capture the way the light hits the bridges at 5 p.m. Even today, the city mandates warm street lamps so at night everything glows gold. The large skyscrapers you see in other cities are consigned to an area off in the distance called La Defense, just west of the city. Most visitors to Paris never go there, but it’s Europe’s largest purpose-built business district. It’s remindful of old Austinite Tony Bell’s Roach Room. Give them a section of their own, let them do what they want over there and maybe they’ll leave us alone.
Considerations
Pie reader William Schaaf, an artist himself, posed the question: “What do I have to do to live in Paris?” After all, before a body can move there, the government of France has to approve. It’s not like just picking up and moving to Missouri.
First, you need a valid passport, an approved long-stay visa, proof of financial sufficiency (income of around 1400 euros a month), comprehensive health insurance and a confirmed place to live. That might seem to let you out, Mr. William, but it can be easier for an established professional artist to move to France than the average person. France offers a specific Talent Passport category for artists and cultural professors, which grants a multi-year residence of up to four years and includes immediate family reunification.
For everyone else, basic A2-level French proficiency is required if you plan to renew your residency card into a multi year permit. All this may seem a slog but 15,000 Americans move to France every year. The number has steadily grown and total estimates indicate that just under 150,000 Americans now live in France permanently.
For a stay of 90 days or less, however, everything is a lot easier. Basically, you only need a passport valid for three months. If you’re a rookie to living abroad, that three month stay might be a wise first step. Average temperatures in the first two months of the year range from 37 degrees to 48. Rents are extremely high if you can even find an apartment, and most residential buildings lack air-conditioning. Dealing with paperwork, banking and official residency processes is notoriously slow. For a Floridian, the best compromise might be a 90-day annual stay in June, July and August when the Sunshine State lurches into fahrenheit overdrive.
Many think Paris is worth all the hoop-jumping required, and that includes us. Need more encouragement? Here’s what a few of your Francophile friends had to say:
“I Love Paris In The Springtime When It Drizzles.”---Cole Porter
Woody Allen---“That Paris exists and anyone could choose to live anywhere else in the world will always be a mystery to me.”
Thomas Jefferson---“A walk about Paris will provide lessons in history, beauty and in the point of life.”
Allen Ginsburg---“You can’t escape the past in Paris, and yet what is so wonderful about it is that the past and present intermingle so intangibly that it doesn’t seem to burden.”
Victor Hugo---“He who contemplates the depth of Paris is seized with vertigo. Nothing is more fantastic. Nothing is more tragic. Nothing is more sublime.”
Pico Iyer---“And if travel is like love, it is, in the end, mostly because it’s a heightened state of awareness in which we are mindful, receptive, undimmed by familiarity and ready to be transformed. That’s why the best trips, like the best love affairs, never really end.”
James Thurber---“The whole of Paris is a vast university of Art, Literature and Music. It is worth anyone’s while to dally here for years. Paris is a seminar, a post-graduate course in Everything.”
Anne Rice---“Paris was a universe whole and entire unto herself, hollowed and fashioned by history; so she seemed in this age of Napoleon III with her towering buildings, her massive cathedrals, her grand boulevards, and ancient winding medieval streets—as vast and indestructible as nature itself.
All was embraced by her, by her volatile and enchanted populace thronging the galleries, the theaters, the cafes, giving birth over and over to genius and sanctity, philosophy and war, frivolity and the finest art; so it seemed that if all the world outside her were to sink into darkness, what was fine, what was beautiful, what was essential might still come to its finest flower.
Even the majestic trees that graced and sheltered her streets were attuned to her—and the waters of the Seine, contained and beautiful as they wound through her heart; so that the earth on that spot, so shaped by blood and consciousness, had ceased to be the earth and had become Paris.”
Au revoir, mes amis….
