Agnes Groonwald and her husband in France. Photo / Agnes Groonwald
Many of us may dream of moving to France, but after living there for two years, Agnes Groonwald picked up new habits that will be tough to shake.
When my husband and I moved to France from the United States, we wanted a change of scenery and an escape from routine. What we didn’t expect, however, was just how much our habits and priorities would be reshaped by the French way of living.
I’m not just talking about long, unhurried meals or a lifestyle that feels effortlessly chic, but viewing work, family and happiness itself in a brand new way.
When we eventually leave, these are habits we’ll take with us.
The idea of a working lunch is the stuff of fiction in France. I’ll admit that shows like Emily in Paris do exaggerate how relaxed it can be, suggesting French lunches are always a multi-hour wine-soaked affair. In reality, the French do put in a respectable number of work hours.
They’re just more aware of when something deserves a moment of pause, and meals are certainly one of those moments. This isn’t just a nice cultural norm either; eating at your desk technically violates French labour laws, and companies are required to offer their employees a proper break area away from their workstations. (There was a brief suspension of the law during the pandemic, but tradition prevailed.)
While some modern settings are less intense about the sanctity of lunch, for the most part, the French believe in that midday break as a time to reset. It’s about being present for the food, too, a key component of life in France. Since being here, I make sure that my laptop is shut during meals, even if I’m at home at my kitchen table.
Growing up, my feelings about food were shaped by a culture obsessed with being thin. Media messaging taught me that nothing tastes as good as skinny feels (thanks, Kate Moss). I was supposed to trick my body with low-fat and low-calorie substitutes like microwavable Lean Cuisine meals, the kinds that left me hungry within a half hour of finishing. If I skipped dessert, I was “being good”.
France’s approach, however, feels radically different. Diet culture isn’t in the advertising, and it’s certainly not a part of daily conversation. No one apologises for wanting dessert. In fact, you may get scolded by your server if you don’t order one at the end of your meal. (This scenario has happened to us enough that I believe it’s a thing.)
In France, I learned hunger isn’t some personal weakness but a signal you should eat. There’s a trust in the food itself here because the ingredients are simpler, and the food overall is of a higher quality. It’s also about balance, not earning or punishment. If you have a rich lunch, dinner might naturally be lighter. That long walk after isn’t to erase calories, but to help digestion or connect with your loved ones. You can nourish yourself and enjoy yourself, a balance I hope to take with me wherever I go.
The French say they can spot an outsider by how much they smile in everyday interactions. As someone with more of a flat affect – something I blame my Polish upbringing on – this tell isn’t foolproof. But the French have taught me the difference between surface-level “nice” and true kindness.
Sure, the French may not greet you with a huge grin, but through my friendships here, I discovered how generous and genuine their kindness is.
If they invite you out for a cocktail in passing, they mean it. They’ll follow up. If they want to treat you to some fabulous cheese they picked up at the market the other day, it’s best to say yes…unless you’re lactose-intolerant.
They may not be instantly enthusiastic, but they will welcome you into their homes, share what they can, and offer something they hold very dear: their time. From there, they likely won’t do as much small talk as what you’re used to, but that’s a sign that you’re in.
The idea of getting through the end of the year with vacation days left over is unheard of in France. In countries with more of a hustle culture mindset, work is an identity, and it’s tied to your worth. In France, your work simply enables you to do the fun things that make life rich and beautiful.
Being busy here isn’t a personality trait as it may be elsewhere, and I can’t imagine someone here talking about how proud they were of all of their banked paid leave. They may not make as much money as other countries, but the trade-off is a life that feels more fully lived outside of work hours. Vacations are taken seriously as one of life’s essential pleasures without any guilt.
I’ve worked in industries where calling in sick was treated as a weakness, but I’m old enough now to be more aware of my priorities. Life is short and all that.
This one may be the toughest for me. French people have no problem saying “no”, and boundaries are respected, not debated. If you don’t want to do something, you don’t have to do it. This may make people seem less unavailable, but it means they are far less flaky than other cultures. If the French agree to do something or be somewhere, they will.
As a life-long people pleaser, I’m not quite there yet, but I bet it’ll be liberating once I realise that my time and energy aren’t part of some negotiation. In France, it’s about learning to focus on the people and things that truly matter instead of managing everyone’s emotions around you. It’s refreshing, I’m told.