When I first moved to France 10 years ago, my personal style was Carmen Miranda meets Chiquita Banana. Immigrating to France means contractually committing to becoming French. This isn’t American where you can show up in a diaper and someone will say “I <3 U". My sartorial choices were tutti frutti at best...
Last week my name was called from a glass covered cubicle. I signed a sheet of paper. And I became French. There was no pomp or circumstance. I’ve heard expat urban legends of getting summoned to sing La Marseillaise on the spot. I prepped it just in case, but will need to dramatically perform my new battlefield vocabulary in the privacy of my own home.
It has been 10 years in the making mastering the French language on my own (thank you rosé!), starting a business in France and pushing myself to continually have an open heart and mind in this often dysfunctional, but still cherished adopted home of mine. I fully recognize the privileges that helped me along the way (being married to a French citizen, general white privilege, being American), but immigration is a long, tedious process for anyone.
I’ve compiled a list of some hard-earned tips to help expedite the long process of acquiring French nationality. I don’t get into precise logistics as it varies from Prefecture to Prefecture. But these are all things I wish I had a heads up on when I could only dream of living in France indefinitely.
1.) Integrate. In America, you can come and be who you are. But in France, you must become French. Shortly after marrying my French spouse, when I began the official immigration process, I had to sign a contract committing to integrate in every way possible. And the easiest way to do that is to learn the language. It expedites the process of creating a fulfilling life. And really commit to learning the culture (the cult films, the faux-pas, the ’80s French songs that get the crowd up and moving at house parties). I admit I’m much more prone to reading The New York Times than Le Monde, but it’s so easy to be information-isolated these days that it takes conscious effort to engage with the country where you’d like to invest your energy and life.
2.) Don’t throw anything away…ever! France still runs mostly on paper. My whole nationality process was set back for months by missing 1 electric bill from 2011 (Comment dit-on “Murphy’s law” en français?). It’s always the ONE paper that’s missing that you will need to complete your dossier. It’s survival of the fittest so buy a 2-ring binder and keep everything as organized as humanly possible.
3.) Phone a friend. Let’s face it, there’s a lot that even French people don’t understand about their own system. And a bureaucratic secret is that most anything can be negotiated. Find a generous friend or a French lover to help navigate the process.4.) You’re not entitled to anything. One of the first lessons I learned in France was that I am no one. Sure, this sounds harsh to coddled Midwestern millennial ears, but nothing about me was inherently special when I moved here. I had no work experience, my diplomas were invalid and I answered yes and no questions with “OK!”. I had to build that up through time, creating a life and fully engaging. I’ve been working on my dossier for French nationality for over 2 years and started thinking that it was a competition of how badly I wanted it. Think of it as Survivor, but the challenges included eating headcheese and having the right amount of 10 centimes coins to print 100 A4 black and white photocopies at Monoprix.
5.) Have a sense of humor about the whole thing. Usually there’s a hot blooded guy screaming bloody murder at the Prefecture before being escorted out the place. It has a way of bringing out the worst of people, but a lot can be said for being punctual and polite. A good old-fashioned “Bonjour madame / Bonjour monsieur” can go a long way. Take some M&Ms and a good book to ward off any boredom or blood-sugar induced spectacles. At the end of the day, France attracts so many dreamers because of its Old World slow life charm. It runs on its own timeline so find a form of catharsis (start a blog, find expat friends & a bottle of wine) and submit to the process.
Vive la France! I’m celebrating my newfound double nationality by taking up smoking and becoming completely unapproachable (joke!).
P.S. Teaching my first summer intensive ‘experimental drawing’ at the Paris College of Art from June 11-22 2018. Spots are still available if you’re itching to discover Paris in a whole new way. More info here.
you respond like your name is jane austen. Your closet looks like a petit bateau.
A baguette can mean many things. White wine removes red. French purgatory is when you can’t find the porte button. French stylis is just a uniform.
Ask any French person what “cookie” means to them. It is nothing other than a round, chewy, chocolate chip-studded package of Pepperidge Farm. I know for a fact. That was my cookbook editor’s reference point for a “real cookie”. Thanks again globalization! Whatever may count as a Christmas cookie, I still hang onto my tradition of giving something sweet and homemade to my nearest. The latest to make its way onto my roster is my Hazelnut & Nutella thumbprint cookies. Their form is classically American, but the flavor is heavy on hazlenuts with the added allure of Nutella. I know it’s the devil, but for me it still represents the matinal promise of European indulgence. So whether they get the French pass as being a cookie or not, they will add a little euro appeal to any cookie plate. Happy baking!
Hazelnut & Nutella thumbprints
for 20 à 22 cookies
Preheat oven to 350°F. In the bowl of a food processor, pulse together the flour, hazelnut powder, hazlenuts, baking powder and salt until the hazelnuts are finely chopped. In a mixing bowl, cream together the butter and sugar 5 minutes until light and pale in color. Add the egg, vanilla and mix until combined. Add the flour mixture little by little, mixing until just incorporated. Form the dough into 4 cm balls and roll in the canne sugar until completely coated. Place the balls on a cookie sheet covered in parchment paper. Push a thumb into the cookies to create a hole. Bake the cookies 14-18 minutes until firm and lightly golden brown. Cool completely on a wire rack. Fill each cookie with a teaspoon of Nutella®.
190 g all-purpose flour
125 g hazelnut flour
100 g toasted hazlenuts
1 teaspoon baking powder
½ teaspoon fine sea salt
220 g unsalted butter, room temperature
70 g sugar
1 teaspoon pure vanilla extract
60 g coarse canne sugar
200 g de Nutella®
Noisettes & Nutella® thumbprints
pour 20 à 22 cookies
Préchauffez le four à 175 °C. Dans le bol d’un robot, mixez la farine, la poudre de noisettes, les noisettes, la levure et le sel en un mélange homogène avec de petits éclats de noisette. Dans un saladier, battez le beurre et le sucre 5 minutes en un mélange mousseux. Ajoutez l’œuf et la vanille. Incorporez la farine aux noisettes puis mélangez jusqu’à l’obtention d’une pâte homogène. Formez des boulettes de pâte de 4 cm de diamètre puis roulez-les dans la cassonade. Déposez-les sur une plaque recouverte de papier sulfurisé. À l’aide du pouce, faites un trou profond dans chaque boulette. Faites cuire 14 à 18 minutes jusqu’à ce que les cookies soient fermes et légèrement dorés. Laissez-les refroidir sur une grille. À l’aide d’une petite cuillère, remplissez chaque cookie avec le Nutella®.
190 g de farine
125 g de poudre de noisettes
100 g de noisettes entières, torréfiées
1 cuillerée à café de levure chimique
½ cuillerée à café de sel
220 g de beurre à température ambiante
70 g de sucre
1 cuillerée à café de vanille
60 g de cassonade
200 g de Nutella®
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