Ghosts in our house
Being back is weird, y'all.
Before I get to the newsletter today, we want to let you know that we are renting out our Montpellier apartment this July and August. We prefer someone who wants to take it for at least a month. You can see a few pictures here. Please reply directly to this email for details, rates, and more photos!
After five months in France, we returned home exactly a week ago. Roberto and I spent the first few days wandering through our house in a daze. We rented out our studio in the back while we were away, but not the main house (for the purposes of NOT being tax-residents in France, we cannot rent the house out long term. This is a whole other newsletter subject). Therefore, the house looked exactly the same as the day we left - my toothbrush sitting next to an uncapped toothpaste tube, a half read book by the bed, laundry in my hamper.
It has felt like those scenes in cop shows where the police are searching a house and they come upon signs, like a smoldering cigarette and semi-warm coffee, that prove the owner was “just here.” I mentioned this to Roberto, that I weirdly felt like a ghost in my own house, and he said, “YES. I have been feeling exactly the same way.”
My biggest impression on being home is that we have too much goddamn stuff. Our French apartment is smaller and we haven’t been there as long. It is more streamlined, and we are finding we prefer that. I started making lists on day one of things in Austin I wanted to sell or donate. My wardrobe is smaller in France and it is perfectly adequate. I love clothes and I love shopping, so it is hard for me to keep things spare. I need to take on my sister-in-law’s rule of “one thing in means one thing out.”
We’ve written before about the culture shock of American grocery stores. On Tuesday, I saw these towers of vegetables at Central Market and found it shocking. A market in France would have one tenth as much and it wouldn’t go bad. The thought of all this produce going in the trash depressed me.
We have already enjoyed seeing some friends and family, with many more get-togethers planned in the coming weeks. We have eaten tacos and tortilla chips and spicy guacamole. The weather is perfect- in the high 60s and low 70s. Roberto is currently out on his cargo bike with Woody, one of their favorite activities that they can’t do in France. And yet . . .
As you know things are not good in the U.S. Everyone is frightened, angry, and unsure about what to do next. Looking for hope and/or guidance, I went to a rally yesterday at the Capitol building.
At first I was depressed by its small size, but more people kept streaming in until we were a crowd of a couple thousand. What set this rally apart was the median age. I didn’t see many Gen Zers but, man, did the Boomers show up. I saw a stunning number of people over 80, many moving with walkers, canes, and wheelchairs. And they are PISSED.
As they should be. They spent their whole lives working for benefits that might be taken away.
The most hopeful thing I heard was a congressman who said that since the Republican have stopped holding town hall meetings, the Democrats will hold them in their stead. I was relieved to know that people will still have a place to be heard. You will also be happy to know that the energy was electric. Since I personally feel so beat down and exhausted by the news, I was grateful that so many people still have the energy to fight back.
Roberto and I have never planned for this newsletter to be political, but nowadays simply living is political. Our decision to retire in France was born during Trump’s first term. Being at the rally yesterday I felt a familiar pit in my stomach as I looked for the quickest exit in case of a shooting. Our new health insurance is an HMO that requires a lot more hoop jumping than a PPO. Even with the switch we are paying an insane amount of money before we are even seeing a doctor.
I said to a friend, “This crap wouldn’t stand in France. The people would be out in the streets striking every day, blocking traffic, and shutting down trains.” Why don’t Americans do that? Because Americans are living on the edge. They cannot afford to be fired. Most can’t even afford to miss one day of work.
The French respect the right to strike, have job security, and don’t have to worry about the price of healthcare or childcare. Imagine being able to rally all our frustration and anger into one big movement that shut down the country. American leaders of the past 50 years have made sure that Americans can’t afford to do that.
Now that I am home I plan to be a massive thorn in the side of our government. What do I have to lose? And why do you think we called this newsletter “Escape Hatch?”
Jusqu’à la prochaine fois (until next time),
Carolyn & Roberto
You are brave to go back in my view. It is good to hear abut the rally since I simply see them online. Your point about just living is a political thing is so true! It dominates most of my conversations with friends. As for making some good trouble from here in France, I am calling my congressional representatives and Rick Scott my senator. I use https://5calls.org to choose a topic and script which I edit before placing my calls toll free from France. To ensure I do not forget, I set up a recurring meeting on my calendar. The cool thing about the time difference is that when I call in the morning here, it is nighttime in DC so I am assured I will be able to leave a voice message.
Ex-pat with a rally/marching history here. I appreciate the collective relief to be found among like-minded protesters. I hear you. It is time to be loud. It is absolutely time to march. And yes, making your voice heard is decidedly French which makes France all the more dear. Bonne chance!