PARIS—In late 2019, my wife and I were visiting Paris for the 12th time, gazing longingly at for-sale postings in real-estate office windows, when a seed was planted.
“We could do this,” one of us said. “We could retire here.”
At the time we were living in Los Angeles; I was a physician and my wife a healthcare professional. Then came Covid. The lockdown inspired a life reassessment, starting with our oversize home, our frantic gerbil-wheel lives to keep up with our mortgage payments and rising healthcare costs. So, when the French consulate reopened, we made the big move. In 2021, we retired, sold everything, and followed the smell of Camembert.
We rented at first, always a good idea in a new town, then bought a two-bedroom apartment near the Eiffel Tower in the 15th arrondissement, a very French neighborhood with a handful of English speakers (a bilingual school is next door) and more than a few lost tourists. We considered living in a small town or village, but we could never escape the pull of Paris, a retirement destination so elegant and gorgeous it sells itself.
The accessibility of everything is life-changing. My gym, doctor, grocer and market are all within minutes on foot. I walk everywhere here. I don’t need a car, I don’t want a car. At times it seems that Paris is more park than city; 10 minutes on the Metro will take me to Notre Dame, but also to the Bois de Boulogne, an enormous park and forest where you expect to see Louis XIV hunting foxes.
Today, like every Wednesday, pulling my portable shopping cart behind me, I waved at the line of children holding hands on their way to school. I greeted my local pharmacist in her usual leather skirt and go-go boots. I stepped carefully around the dog poop and hungry pigeons. This was my weekly pilgrimage to the greatest of all public spaces, the French street market. Every neighborhood has its own market; mine is the Marché Grenelle.
Prices are relative
Of course, Paris is the most expensive place to live in France. But a retired couple can easily find an apartment similar to ours in a nice location for between $1.3 million and $1.6 million (based on exchange rates April 11), or rent a comparable place for $2,500 to $3,000 a month. We pay the equivalent of about $400 a month for building charges, which in our case—but not always—include heat and water. Our property taxes are almost an afterthought. We pay around $65 a month for electricity, and $110 for internet, phone and TV. Beyond that, we were amazed to find that almost everything else about living here is cheaper than in the U.S., or at least in Los Angeles. A couple can get a good meal, with wine, for $65.
As far as the paperwork goes, an American citizen retiring here will typically get a one-year visitor visa, which must be renewed every year. After five years, upgrade to a 10-year visa or go all out and apply for French citizenship. Dual nationality is allowed by both countries.
One of the joys of our life here is the quality of the healthcare system. We needed private insurance to receive our visitors visas and to settle in. Then, after three months we were able to apply for the French public health insurance, which took a few more months to receive.
Healthcare isn’t free, but it is much cheaper than in the U.S. We pay about 10% of what we paid for our California plan, even with the private insurance that we buy to fill any coverage gaps. Best of all, it works. Paperwork is almost nonexistent. Many doctors have no front desk and no staff at all. I had a CT scan that required a prescription but no other paperwork from me. Within 45 minutes, the radiologist personally explained the findings and sent me on my way with a folder containing the images. It cost me about $80.
Another benefit to living in Paris: quick access to dozens of countries thanks to Orly Airport and a brilliant network of trains. We love being able to spontaneously take a long weekend in Rome or Oslo or Marrakesh. We also love jumping on a train from one of six Paris stations to the sublime French countryside. But mostly, we love coming home to Paris.
We have not yet returned to the U.S. We are having too much fun where we are, and have a lot of new friends. Our adult daughter, who lives in Europe, visits us frequently. We also get visitors from across the Atlantic. Like many who move here, we plan to stay.
The quirks of Paris
Having said that, the French are an odd bunch, at least to our American sensibilities. For example, I love that Parisians take their dogs everywhere. But when we had a dog (he died, sadly), we realized that they don’t leave their dogs anywhere. A city full of pooches, but organized kennels are rare.
I also quickly noticed that everyone here—my neighbors, the street sweeper, a policeman—enjoys nothing more than gently correcting any linguistic error I make, large or small. Which, for me, is every time I open my mouth. If I say “le voiture” to the guy at the grocery checkout, he will say “ la voiture” before handing me my change.
You can survive here speaking English, but you won’t thrive. My wife and I both take French classes, which are inexpensive and ubiquitous, often taught free by retirees. My wife belongs to several bilingual groups. They meet in cafes, exercise their language skills and take excursions to museums. Speaking decent French will open up the full potential of life here—the arts and theater, music, and all the small interactions that make up a day.
For example, there is a fellow on my street who sells old maps and such, so I stop and speak with him, occasionally buying something. I do it for the conversation practice, but also to be sure he can keep on doing what he’s doing. There is something very precious and precarious about life on a Parisian street. A key ingredient—the survival of bookstores and obscure shops—relies on a mix of Gallic stubbornness and the goodwill of residents.
After three years here, I feel protective of the markets and boulangeries and meticulous window displays. I guess I feel at home.
Joe Dixon is a writer in Paris. He can be reached at reports@wsj.com .
