I followed the magazine editor’s bouncing curls as she weaved through the office desks with a speed that seemed to quicken every step. She reeled off the generic laws of the land: the daily meeting is held here; never go into the chief’s office; stationary cupboard is here. She dropped me off at the equivalent of an intern crèche: a desk covered in papers shrouding an overworked secretary who could do without babysitting duties as well.
She peered over her glasses and gritted a smile to welcome me. I could feel the morning’s breakfast churning in my stomach. As an intern in Paris, with opportunity to work for an international magazine, I was not about to ruin it by vomiting all over their carpets on my first day. I had to accept I was bottom of the work chain, made more prominent by my distinctive ‘foreign’ nature.
I study French, but by no means would consider myself fluent. With an email chain challenging the length of the Nile, I worked hard for six months prior to arriving in France to secure the position. The graft continued for the nine weeks I was in France. It was the epitome of trying to fit a square peg in a round hole. Yet somehow, by the end of it all, I felt somewhat part of this strange new team.
So, how do you establish yourself in a place where you’re not even sure you fit?
Working abroad can highlight every single possible difference about you. For a country we jest about being ‘just over the pond’, at times France felt like a dystopian universe. They say that office culture is a different world anyway, but then make everyone speak a different language and you have a new territory altogether.
As it turns out, in a French office, exclamations are simply a vast array of swearwords. Whilst my English ears are more than accustomed to a great deal of creative language, hearing everyone, from fellow intern to boss alike, shout profanities over the desks took some adjusting to. I was equally taken aback when my colleagues pulled me in for “la bise” (two cheek kisses) on arrival. A welcome show of affectionate greeting that, in my experience, was uncomfortable and unfamiliar to say the least.
I could go on, but the point is that I learnt to lean into my differences, eventually using it as a means of self-deprecating humour which won me favour among my new-found work friends.
Realising that I wasn’t going to adapt immediately to cultural subtleties freed my conscious to be curious. Asking politely about things that confused me and laughing at my mistakes (of which there were many) earnt me a soft spot amongst my team. It meant I suddenly had access and a means to understanding this new world.
But more than that, I would encourage those thinking of working abroad to embrace adapting to the ways of their new country. You might find improvements to take back if you’re planning on returning home, or you’ll simply find a more peaceable working environment during your time abroad.
I certainly appreciated experiencing a better work-life balance in France, that I have since tried to implement upon returning to England. The point of moving or working abroad is to expand your horizons. If you’re set in your ways, it makes that near impossible. It’s like going on holiday, never leaving the hotel, and then saying you’ve ‘travelled’ the country.
So, as I prepare once again to pack my life into a suitcase and move to France for a year abroad, I remind myself of the silent sobs in the bathroom, the jittery nerves and the (many) times I wanted to go home. I’m all for romanticisation of life, but not allowing it to cloud the reality of our experiences is important. As much as I wish I could say Emily in Paris is a documentary, working abroad is not all dinners cooked by professional chefs and business meetings on private boats along the Seine. But that doesn’t mean we don’t love it.
Instead learn to romanticise walking in on your first day on the job and misunderstanding the man behind the front desk. Romanticise not being able to work out the metro to your new job or being completely dumbfounded when called upon in a meeting. Romanticise the laughter, embarrassment, euphoric joy, and tears of each moment. And remind yourself that it’s all just adding to your basket of stories to bore your friends with when you’re at home.
“This one time in Paris, we were…”
“Oh, you lived in Paris, did you?” They’ll tease (with just a tinge of jealousy) and you will smile knowing that you really can call another place home.