Why I Moved to France

This life is meant to be lived god dammit

Lately, my inbox has been filling up with questions about my journey to France. So many of you are curious about this leap of faith and what led me here. If you're standing at the edge of your own adventure, holding both the fear and the possibility, this one's for you. And yes, I might get a little poetic here because, well, living in France for a year does that to you. Alors, allez, on y va!

I moved to New York at 18 and built my first business by 20, armed with nothing but dreams and determination. Three years in, something shifted. The startup world that once energized me began to feel like a beautiful cage – brilliant minds obsessed with investment rounds and delayed lunch orders. I had everything I thought I wanted, yet I kept feeling this pull for more. My cup, once overflowing, had started running dry. And I realized it had nothing to do with my business but my environment.

Working my ass off in NYC, stressed and anxious almost every day.

But France? She'd been calling me long before I knew how to listen. She lived in the photographs of my mother working on vineyards in her 20s, echoed in the Tour de France playing on our family friends' TV every summer, whispered in the French phrases my mother would sprinkle into our daily life. Sometimes our souls know our homes before our minds catch up.

Mom in Paris in the 80s

The actual journey began with a wedding invitation to Italy. I was beautifully single and feeling on top of the world, so I booked myself a few weeks in Paris beforehand. Landing at 7 am, I dropped my bags and laced up my running shoes. As I explored the city on foot, Paris felt both foreign and familiar. With each step, the thought grew stronger: "this could be yours."

There's something magical about traveling alone – it's just you and endless possibilities stretching before you. And to my fellow women who travel solo – isn't there something magnificently rebellious about it? (If you've ever traveled alone, share your story with me. These stories light me up.)

Each visit to France expanded my world. Annual trips became deeper connections, new friendships, and then – I met the love of my life. My mother and I explored the South of France together, near where she worked in her 20s, building new memories atop old ones. With every return to New York, the disconnect grew. NYC had given me so much – it was the soil where my business grew, where I found family and beautiful memories. But like any relationship that's run its course, I knew it was time to move on.

Holiday in the South of France

Life has a funny way of confirming your choices. Between trips to France, I took a 23andMe test and discovered that I'm 50% French & German. All those years of feeling pulled toward this place, my DNA was trying to guide me. I never had strong connections to my heritage growing up, but suddenly, pieces of my puzzle started falling into place.

So I did what scared me. I researched. Found a lawyer. Built a network of chosen family. But most importantly, I trusted myself. I knew that even if Paris didn't work out, I'd land somewhere else – and that somewhere could bring the life I'd been waiting to live.

Here's my advice: don't ever settle for a life that feels "bleh." Take the time to imagine what would make you feel "fuck yes" instead. Get super fucking clear on what you want and what it would take to get there. Whether your dream is across an ocean or wherever – your heart's whispers are worth listening to. Sometimes, the most profound act of self-love is simply saying yes to what calls you.

Bisous,

EG

P.S. Want the practical details – visas, paperwork, all the nitty-gritty? Let me know if you'd like a newsletter about that. All we need is someone a few steps ahead to show us it's possible.