Housing

The city of Lyon is the third largest in France with a population roughly the size of Philadelphia. It is old, old, old, and densely packed along the Rhône river. How to start apartment hunting?

My program gave me specific instructions to only look for housing after I got off the plane. I asked and double checked about this.

Like, seriously, I should only start looking once I’m physically in the country? “Yes, of course.”

Should I live in a hotel until I find an apartment? “Or an Airbnb, up to you.”

What if I can’t find a place? “That’s your problem.”

Will you help me find a place? “Are you kidding? Look, kid, I’m at the beach, stop emailing me.”

So obviously, I ignored that and started apartment hunting from my parents’ house in Tennessee.

When on the hunt for an apartment in France, I had to keep in mind that kitchens and toilets are luxuries, not standards. Ditto for Wifi and closet space. Many buildings don’t have elevators because they were built during urbanization periods in the 18th and 19th centuries. Those buildings were meant for the elites and the bourgeoisie, so each floor held only one, two, or maybe three apartments total. Now, those same floors have been divvied up into several more, much smaller apartments. This means that any plumbing running through the building has to be shared by a lot more people.

End result: a shared toilet in a closet in the hallway. For those of you who have been to college, you remember the communal showers and toilets in the dorm rooms. Narrow that down to one toilet, and take away the sinks. You’ll have a sink in your apartment, and probably a shower (but don’t count on it).

After a month of searching, I found a place within walking distance of my school. The apartment has a shower, a toilet, a kitchen (with a fridge!), and even a closet. The kicker is an elevator service, but it’s very old; one of those with a metal grate you have to manually pull across to close.

To pay for this apartment, I had to get an International Bank Account Number, or IBAN. To have this, I had to have a European bank account. Only, to get a European bank account, you usually have to have a European address, or to at least open an account on the continent, in person at a branch. Real rock-hard place situation. No IBAN, no apartment. No apartment, no IBAN. Everyone I contacted about this (my landlord, my program, my school) said that it was up to me to square this circle.

So, I did. I called and emailed a half dozen banks from a half dozen countries until somebody could parse my problem and offer a solution. I ended up opening an account with Wise, a wire transfer service, which I wish was sponsoring me. I used that account to finally lock down my apartment and pay first and last month’s rent, a security deposit, and the administration fee. Some things don’t change across borders; landlords will always squeeze you.

I had one more fee to pay before it was all over: housing insurance. In France, it’s illegal to go without it. That wasn’t too hard. My landlord partners with a specific agency, because of course. That will be another monthly fee. France is pricey. Glad I’m working as a substitute teacher up until my plane leaves. I’m just raking it in.

I’m just glad to have a bed and a door with a lock, you know? Now all I gotta do is enroll in French Social Security. Easy peasy (knock on wood). As of this writing, I just bought my plane tickets, so I guess I actually have to go now. Fingers crossed for a window seat.