People often ask me some version of, “So… does France feel like home now?”
It’s a simple question on the surface so to move the conversation along, I usually just say something like, “Yes, I’ve been there a decade so it’s home.” But when I think about it, the real answer isn’t so simple at all. Because the truth is, sometimes it does. And sometimes, it doesn’t.
Home isn’t just an address or a legal residency status. It’s a feeling — one that’s both elusive and deeply personal. And when you’re living abroad, that feeling can shift from one day to the next, so let’s talk about when France does and doesn’t feel like home.
P.S. I’ve also been asked if I feel French….
When France has felt like home over the years:
–When I navigate a tricky conversation in French without missing a beat. There’s a little thrill when you first realize you no longer have to translate in your head.
–When I greet the baker by name and she does the same. She knows what I’m going to order before I even ask. These tiny rituals make me feel seen and appreciated.
–When I’m walking in the park on a sunny afternoon and the world smells like fresh bread and blooming flowers. Or that amazing chimney smell this time of year. It’s the sensory kind of home — the one you feel in your bones.
–When I instinctively know how to handle a cultural quirk — whether it’s how to navigate a long French dinner or how to order produce at the marché without making a cultural faux pas
In those moments, France isn’t just where I live. It’s where I belong.
When France doesn’t feel like home:
There are other days, though. Days when I feel the gap between “being here” and “being from here.”
— When my French still falters. A momentary brain freeze in the bank or a missed joke at a dinner party can make me feel like I’ve been yanked back to square one. It’s crazy how even still, missing a word or two can throw you off.
— When someone points out my accent and asks “Where are you from?”
— When cultural differences aren’t charming — they’re exhausting. The paperwork, the bureaucracy, the unspoken rules I still haven’t quite mastered.
— When I miss the ease of home-country friendships. Here, every relationship has to be built from scratch, without the shared references and shorthand I grew up with. Sure, we try to embrace the challenge of it but when there are so many other challenges, sometimes you just want things to feel easy.
— When I realize I’ll always carry a part of “otherness” here. No matter how well I integrate, I’m not French. And sometimes, that’s isolating. On good days, I really don’t care, but on hard days, it can feel kind of shitty.
These moments don’t make me love France any less, but they do remind me that “home” isn’t always a constant feeling — especially when you’ve chosen to live somewhere far from where you started.
Do you love “everything about France?” Then you’re not ready to move! >>
The beauty in the in-between
The longer I live here, the more I understand that home doesn’t have to be absolute. It can exist in layers.
I can feel deeply rooted here and still miss certain parts of my old life. I can feel like an insider at my neighborhood café but a total outsider in a government office. I can love living in France and know it was the right choice for me but still yearn for things back in the U.S. sometimes. That’s life.
Living in this in-between space has taught me something freeing: It’s OK if France never feels 100% like home. It means I’m human.
What home really means
I’ve stopped thinking of home as a fixed point. Instead, I think of it as a collection of people, routines, and places where I feel safe, known, and at ease. Some of those are here in France. Some are thousands of miles away. And some, I carry within me no matter where I go.
When France feels like home, I soak it up. When it doesn’t, I remind myself that belonging isn’t a static concept — it’s a relationship. Like any relationship, it has seasons of closeness and distance.
And maybe that’s the most honest answer I can give when people ask me, “Does France feel like home?” Yes. Sometimes. And that’s enough.
Maybe some of you out there get where I’m coming from…. Thanks for reading. 😉
Salut Diane pourrais tu faire une vidéo sur les différences de Halloween en France vs aux USA ?
You’re right on target. It’s hard to explain to people how you feel. I have 3 “homes”. The one where I grew up, the one where we lived for 20 years where my kids grew up, and now here. The US homes are easy and comfortable, but sometimes they are confining and dull. My new home is challenging but also creating growth. I think the hardest part is the friendships. Having the common connections and common history creates a bond. I’m finding that I can have French friends, but it is with my US ones (here and in the US) that feel like we have a closer relationship, but perhaps that will change. I have only been here 2 years.
Hi Chris, thanks so much for sharing your experience. I appreciate you taking the time to read my post!
Hi Diane,
This is a beautifully written and thoughtful exploration of a truly complex, nuanced issue. Bravo. Reading it touched me deeply and put words to my own move some three years ago. I don’t think a day goes by when I don’t weigh the challenges of my ‘new life’ against the memories of years spent in a completely different place filled with familiar routines, easy friendships and the satisfying feeling of knowing the culture. As you aptly noted, there are good days and some not such good days that challenge me to remember, ‘It takes time and experience’ to understand and allow a place to feel familiar and comfortable – a place to navigate with confidence, if not occasional enjoyment. I’m not there yet, but I know it’s possible and take pleasure in the moments when I feel more at ease and grounded in my new environment. ‘It’s a journey’, I remind myself…
Thank you for your blog and for sharing your thoughts and experiences which have helped me immeasurably over the past couple years. Keep Writing and All the Best.
You’re so sweet, Denise. Thank you so much for your kind words. I’m glad my post resonated with you. Whenever I sit down to write, I always wonder if anyone out there feels the same way or can relate to something I’m saying. So to know that this post landed with you means a lot to me. Thank you again.