Goodbye la France

I'm Francesca Tereshkova, a British girl who washed up on the shores of France aboard a Eurolines bus in 1998. I came to France the day after I finished my University finals. I'm now 32 with two children. I married my Russian boyfriend (now 'hubski') in 2003. And I've learned as much about France as I need to know. In August 2006, I brought my family back 'home' to the UK. We're still adjusting... This is my story.

Name:
Location: Formerly the Parisian suburbs, now the town of E., Darkest Oxfordshire, United Kingdom

I get perverse enjoyment from doing the opposite of what everyone else does. I wish I could stop but I can't. So when thousands of Frenchies were leaving France to find work and to make a better life in the UK, I chose to do exactly the opposite. That was in 1998. My French experience is unlike any I have read about in the vast Brit-in-France literary sub-genre. I have no French boyfriend or family, no country house. Dog poo has never inspired me to pick up a pen. I have recently given up on France ever changing, or me ever changing, and brought my family back to the strange new world that is England in 2006. This blog, part life-story, part diary, is my way of saying goodbye la France, and hello Angleterre (or in the Oxfordshire vernacular, 'Orwoight?').

Tuesday, May 30, 2006

To those who are far from chez eux

One of the things I will take away from France is an unconditional respect for people who leave their home country to look for a better life. Seeking a better life is the most human of motivations.

Such people fall into many different categories. Legal, illegal, black, white, with contacts, jobs and family, or without. Some have it easier than others.

Our family have had it fairly easy. We are lucky enough be white, 'invisible' immigrants, with papers. When I hear criticism of people who 'do not want to integrate', who 'don't speak French at home', I know that although they could be talking about my family, they don't really mean us. French society is racist to an extent that the UK simply is not.

If anyone wants to disagree with me, here's an example. When I was looking for our current flat, I was struck dumb when the estate agent, finding himself with a fellow white person (that he'd met 10 minutes before) remarked that I shouldn't bother looking in a certain part of town because 'il y a beaucoup d'Arabes'. Such a comment would be totally inadmissable in the UK.

The test of all my optimism, of course, will be bringing my Eastern European husband to make a new life in the UK. If I ever encounter any rascism of any kind, towards him or my children, you can be sure to read about it here.

The attitude in the UK is hardening towards foreigners, with the help of the tabloid press. I find it hard to get worked up about immigration, because having been an immigrant (I see myself more as an immigrant than an expatriate) and having known many immigrants, I think I understand it a little better than your average Daily Mail reader. What people who have lived in one place their whole life find hard to grasp is that living in a foreign country long term is tough and draining. With the exception of a few career drifters, most people dream of returning home one day, if conditions permit. I could laugh at the way hubski insists on watching the St Petersburg local television news via satellite every day, but I don't. Even though he hasn't lived there for 15 years, and will likely never live there again, he needs to know what's happening 'back home'. I read the British press every day for the same reason.

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