Two Years Abroad: An American’s Journey from the U.S. to France

In October 2021, my wife and I made the life-changing decision to leave the United States and move to France, uncertain if we’d ever return.

Okay - I knew I didn’t want to come back…

Now, two years later, we’re reflecting on the challenges, rewards, and unexpected lessons learned during our journey. From navigating the bureaucratic hurdles of French banking to adjusting to a slower pace of life, we’ve encountered countless moments of growth. This post offers insights for anyone considering moving abroad, sharing personal experiences, practical advice, and a glimpse into what it really takes to start over in a new country.

TL;DR: We left the U.S. to slow down, and ended up writing about everything that fills the quiet—food, culture, paperwork, memory, and how people build lives in unexpected places.

[Ed note: This is what I’ve been writing about for the last 300 pieces or so—food and memory, leaving and staying, the slow work of building a life in France. It’s about culture in small moments: truck stops, terrines, paperwork, and the quiet conversations that make a place feel real. Mostly, it’s about finding home—somewhere else. It’s been trickier and slower than I ever thought, but I am loving the process…]

Two Years Already?

When we left, we had ambitious plans to document the entire journey in real-time, hoping others could learn from our experiences as we navigated stuff.

That didn’t quite work.

It took time to get my head clear, to orient, to become myself again, however that was.

Uh…

I made a few pretty bad videos I’d rather keep private, and write a few pieces.

But it has seemed to me that, no matter what else I do, it takes me about two years to get comfortable in a new place. Whether it's the nature of transitions or just my own personal stuff… -maybe I am getting older (?), I'm not sure. But if my experiences can help others, that's a win for me, too.

Backup Plans

We originally wanted to move Portugal but after several months of unsettled issues with our visas, we ended up in France, so we’re still in the middle of settling in to this country. I think we’ll be here for a while.

We really enjoyed Portugal, but France suits us as well. Both are very different places than the US.

I feel like we would have loved Portugal, but we have really decided to learn a lot about France.

I’m not a Francophile. I don’t love everything about France (or the US, for that matter), but I do love them both. There’s a lot to learn - and being in one place makes both places a bit easier to see somehow.

The Alligator-Crocodile Practice of Cultural Comparison

It’s usually the little things that stick - oddly specific, maybe slightly embarrassing, things no one teaches you but everyone seems to know. A gesture in a conversation, a song you’ve never heard that everyone else seems to have grown up with, why a place is closed when the internet says its open, who built a place & who took credit for it.

Find Home ElsewhereKeith Christiansen

Because the internet has enough manifestos.

Starting to feel at home

After a year here, I am beginning to feel okay saying we “live in France.”

…and I know we will not be going back to live in the US.

As Americans, we face some unique challenges. It’s taken a lot of time, thought and research to address them. I hope that my learning can make things a bit easier for others.

Thanks for joining me here,

Keith

A Good Place to Start: Banking in France

When we first arrived, opening a French bank account felt like a full-time job. Two years later, I can confirm—it still kind of is.

We’ve been with CIC, and while the system can feel ancient compared to U.S. online banking, there’s something reassuring about it. Each account has a real person tied to it—our advisor, who we’ve now known for two years and who’s handled everything from wire transfers to fixing the time my card got eaten by an ATM. It’s personal, sometimes slow, but surprisingly human.

The biggest surprise? Many of the roadblocks aren’t French at all—they’re American. Because of IRS reporting rules, some banks simply refuse U.S. clients, or take ages to process paperwork. If you’re new here, start with an online Euro account—Wise is the simplest, most reliable option in my experience, though Revolut and N26 also work well. Having that setup in advance makes everything else—phone service, apartment leases, utilities—so much easier.

These days, banking here also means three-factor confirmation for almost everything. To buy something online, I now open the CIC app, wait for a text, confirm a code, tap another code, and then re-enter my password.

It’s secure, yes—but also wildly effective at cutting down on impulse purchases. I buy less, mostly because I get frustrated before checkout. But it’s all become a bit normal now.

Everything in France is interconnected. You’ll need a local account to get a phone plan, and a phone plan to rent an apartment. It’s a bureaucratic chicken-and-egg situation, but patience (and polite persistence) go a long way..

Further reading:

For anyone settling into life in France, this is a great, practical read: John B. Howard’s “Seeking Tranquillity in France” breaks down why updating your bank once you’re fiscally resident can actually open new doors—lower fees, better cards, even investment options. It’s one of those rare posts that makes French bureaucracy feel manageable.

You can read it here: Seeking Tranquillity in France.

• France in Between by Betty Carlson — elegant, grounded writing about life beyond the clichés, full of small, observant moments.
• Yo France! by Don & Theresa Russell — wry, cultural commentary with a big heart and a journalist’s eye for the odd, wonderful details of living here.
• Bare Patches by Mike Rivera — funny, self-aware essays about change, identity, and the strange business of starting over somewhere new. Nothing to do with France, but amazing for poetry and I like him a lot.

If you’re looking for good company in this quieter corner of the internet, these are great places to start.

Got any other suggestions? Lemme know!

Osez Joséphine Alain Bashung (1991)

Yet another artists I did not know when I got here and I now listen to every week.

The video for “Osez Joséphine” has Bashungin a dimly lit circus ring, dressed like a 1950s rockabilly guy — slick hair, sequins?, shades — while a white horse runs endless circles around him. It’s like David Lynch wrote his songs, falling into this odd category of highly impressionistic poetry music. As if America itself were being remembered through a dream. But Bashung had never been to America and his weird French-filtered pseudo-Americana shtick is a thing unto itself. Like he captures a longing for the fantasy of a place.

Bashung barely moves while the horse keeps orbiting him, freedom pacing just out of reach. It’s a love song, sure, but also a quiet dare to start over — tragic, strange, and impossibly cool.