Moving on... Where the grass is greener.

Vanessa is American. Her entire family is American, as is her accent, her passport and most of her cultural references. Yet she says she doesn't "feel it" any longer. This makes me sad. We English feel that national identity (not Nationalism) represents a central value - not a totally defining one - but nonetheless a solid sense of tribe, to which humans have been hardwired, since the dawn of people.

There seems to be a particular tone to the American conversation at the moment, that has important implications for a growing majority. It is not outrage exactly, but feels perhaps more like wholesale disappointment. Woe. Something flat and quite exhausted. One of those things that I can sense in Vanessa, without her saying so. Not so much that something is wrong over there in the U.S. of Dystopi-A, but that something no longer fits.

The pace of all this seems relentless. The volume is turned way up. The margins of everything feel thin and narrow. People don't seem to be opting out of the system entirely, but they are certainly "bracing themselves" inside it, which must require near debilitating levels of constant, vigilant energy.

Against that backdrop, it is hardly surprising that more Americans are looking outward. Many of them are staring right at us, here in South West France. I can almost feel their gaze. Of course, like anything that aspires to be a trend, there are a handful of influential, high-profile figures who are leading the charge of the enlightened brigade. The George Clooney's to France, the Richard Gere's to Spain, the Ellens to England. They are not doing this as an overt protest, but what seems more of a "sensible recalibration". But more of the rank and file of middle America are seriously looking at France as a very good option.

France appeals to America not because it is perfect - it isn’t - but because it does offer something that feels increasingly rare: a better relationship with life. Food in France is not chemical-enhanced junk. Diverse community and contrasting cultures are chatty neighbours. Life is fully inhabited, not navigated or negotiated.

I am going to take a directional pause here, because this piece is not about listing comparitives or grievances. It is not America bashing. I will leave that to them. Nor do I want to make a list of contrasting values, or the textural supremacy of our bouchers, boulangers and candlstick makers. Although I might just have subliminally done that..

France still operates on proximity and openness. People see each other. Have different opinions. Speak to each other. Age alongside each other. Maybe, life happens in public here - at the café or the garden gate, because those opinions are not veiled threats, or concealed weapons. Whether you are fluent, or fully inarticulate, in French, you still belong. You just have to try. You just show up.

Food and wine? Well yes that certainly plays a part, but not in the way that most would imagine. They are not indulgences here, they are the punctuation and the structures of life. Those kinds of pleasures are built-in, not bolted-on at the weekend, or on date night.

It's perhaps the imagined hurdles that seem to be holding many more Americans back in the airport lounge. What they imagine might stand in the way. Unfamiliarity, it turns out, is the polar opposite of Main Street, USA. All we can tell those who ask Vanessa and me the litany of questions around "So what's it like over there?", are that things tend to soften quickly over here. Language is learned in bite sized pieces. Culture and mannerisms are absorbed by observing, rather than formal instruction. Familiarity arrives with gentle repetition. The same faces, in the same café, around the same time.

We have American neighbours on both sides of our rental home this month. They are such lovely people. They are all so graciously leaning into the initial discomforts of change. They weren't seeking to escape, they were just after some sense of relief. I think they were a bit worried about constantly being a bit worried. We think they will stay.

For those willing to be a beginner again - and there is a lot to be said for it - France offers much and many opportunity. It is OK to be a bit awkward, curious and imperfect. It's not that the grass is greener over here - it's just as much work to mow - but perhaps that’s the real attraction. France doesn’t sell a better life - it simply presents Americans with a different choice.

And choices, are the hinges of destiny...