Today was just like almost every other morning the past year.
I got up at 7:35. Woke the girls up and waited for J to get up a few minutes later. The two kids lie on the sofa and turn on the T.V. J makes coffee and pours two cups - one for me and one for himself (though he rarely ends up drinking it). At 8:10, it is time to dress the girls. It rarely goes smoothly and as usual entails screaming, crying (on the kid's part) and cajoling, threatening (on our end). At 8:20, we are out the door. ( J usually takes the kids to school/daycare in the morning, but for the past couple of weeks I have been doing it.) To get to the street we have to go down one flight of stairs (dramatic, grand, circular), through a door to the 17th century, paved, courtyard, and then out huge, heavy, wooden doors to the street. We live on a small, curved street that is ostensibly closed to thru traffic (except for taxis and delivery trucks) but is always filled with cars in the morning trying to beat traffic on the nearby boulevard. We cross- E and I on foot and O in the stroller - looking out not only for traffic-beating cars, but the dozens of bikes careening our way who theoretically have priority. E's school is just a two minute walk. She is in the moyen section of the ecole maternelle - the equivalent of the last year of preschool in the States (she just turned five and children start school here at two or three). We arrive at 8:25, in time for me to walk her up the stairs into her classroom (those unfortunate enough to arrive after 8:30, must say good bye at the door). I leave by 8:35 and continue on with O (who has been waiting patiently in her stroller in the lobby of the school) to the next drop-off. Since we arrived last year so late in the school year we didn't have many options for preschools. We were lucky that there was still room in one. Unfortunately, it was a thirty minute walk. (in France women enroll their children in daycare while still pregnant). So we began the morning hike - across the Boulevard Magenta, stop at a boulangerie for a pain au chocolat for O and over to the Canal St. Martin. We stop on the bridge to look at the ducks and continue on up the hill towards Belleville. We arrive just after 9. For all my complaining, I love this walk, from one edge of our arrondissement to the other - from the wholesale clothing stores, to the trendy boutiques and cafe/restaurants, to the calm of the canal, to the "second" Chinatown of Paris.
It has been one year since we moved to Paris. We have our routines now. It took - and didn't take - a while. We have at least satisfied the basic requirements of living: home, work, school, taxes. Last May we sublet an apartment near the Republique for six months. This would be our last attempt at making France work. Before this we had been living for two years in the Languedoc (SW region of France). It sounds dream-like to move to the South of France. And we thought it would be. So we sold our loft in the East Village of NYC, packed or sold all of our things, and booked a flight for me, J, and our one year old daughter to Montpellier. Still in the grip of the fantasy we bought a huge, run-down, house. We thought that we could fix up the house, I would write, and J would work via the internet. Three months after we bought the house, we knew it was a mistake. But it was difficult to disentangle ourselves. We had put all our money into the house and it would be difficult to resell. The problem wasn't the Languedoc, it was us. The people were friendly and quirky and the house and landscape beautiful (vineyards for miles) - just like Peter Mayle's book A year in Provence. But I was unhappy and restless. At least J had a job where he got to go to Berlin (a big city!) once a month for a week. I was jealous. I had forgotten after 18 years of living in NYC, that I really do not like small towns. Or even nature. I like cities. I like to walk around anonymously. I like to go to restaurants and bars, and go to museums and go shopping. But mostly I like to walk aimlessly and look at things - as long as it isn't nature (parks though I can enjoy, because I know just beyond the perimeter is civilization).
After two unproductive years (except another baby girl) of wallowing in the country, we made a decision. We would move to Paris. A week after we moved, J got a job in Paris. (Contrary to what we were told, changing one's visa status is not that difficult.) We enrolled E in the neighborhood school. And found a part-time sitter for O. There would be no room for O in daycare until September. Within three months we bought an apartment (our bank was very generous in giving us a bridge loan.) just around the corner from our sublet. We had decided that this was a great neighborhood. Originally we wanted to move to the Marais or Beaubourg, but it was out of our price range. We briefly considered living in Pantin, just outside of Paris proper and a much cheaper alternative. I ruled out the Left Bank - too fossilized and bland. In the end we found a great apartment with character (but almost half the size of NYC one!). I am glad though we moved here instead of the Marais (or Pantin). It is the best of both worlds - central but not many tourists, ethnically diverse (which was important to us) but bobo-ish (so we have lots of cool restaurants and bars). It reminds us in a certain way (hopefully non-nostagically) of the old East Village before it became too gentrified. As for our taxes - not there yet but we did hire an accountant last week to figure out the effects of our new French income.
So we have found our new home (at least for the next few years). It is difficult to say why exactly we left NYC. I think that the reasons were many: cultural, political and maybe just the desire for adventure. Culturally, I think NYC is difficult to negotiate with children. Not that it isn't a great place to raise children (I think cities are a great place for kids to grow up). But after our first daughter was born, it was difficult to find proper daycare or just prohibitively expensive. In Paris (which because of its resources makes childcare more extensive and affordable than the provinces) our costs for full-time care for both kids is around 300 euros. School for children is free beginning at the age of 3. We only pay for lunch, Wednesdays (not a school day) and extra hours. O's daycare is 200 euros a month from 8-6 everyday. This includes lunch, snacks and even diapers. And we pay the highest rate! The most important thing is we don't worry about the kids during the day. Politically, NYC seemed to us less compelling after 9/11: a tragedy that two years later seemed to lead to intolerance. Maybe it was just time to experience something else.
And we did get something out of our two years in the Languedoc (besides a lesson) we got to visit great places. Just an hour from the Spanish border, we often went for weekend drives to Figueres (for shopping) or further to Girona (for a sushi lunch). In the summer we would take a day off and head for the beautiful French beach town, Collioure. After a swim in the bay, with a view of the old fort, we would stop at one of the many seaside cafes and eat fresh, grilled, fish. So we do have some good memories of the time we spent there. But we are so happy to be in Paris.
