How the dream of life abroad — la vie à l’étranger — became a reality

The skyline of a medieval village in France

One day I woke up and decided, “I’m quitting my job and moving to France with my dog.” And so I did.

Okay, so it didn’t quite happen that way, but it was rather unexpected.

I had a stable teaching job of 19 years, with tenure. A reliable paycheck for 11 months out of the year ( no paycheck in December, which of course is the perfect month to not get paid….) that finally covered my living expenses (those early teaching years, not so much.). A high deductible health insurance plan through work that I tried to never use (but at least I had it!), and a dental plan that I did use at every available opportunity (darn cavities).

I lived in a cute little home that I rented for an amazing price from equally amazing landlords, who didn’t mind that I had German Shepherds. I’d been there nearly 18 years. The house worked perfectly for me and my animals, with a small backyard and a view of the green space through the iron fence. Lots of squirrels for the dogs to chase, and lots of birds for me to watch.

I had friendly neighbors, a nice neighborhood, good walking routes, parks and open space nearby. Grocery stores and gas stations were convenient. In fact, most things were convenient. It was only a 12-minute drive to work, and most of my department lived within a couple minutes from me, making it easy to get together outside of school or catch a ride if needed.

I had my routine, my favorite stores, my usual walking routes, my core group of friends. I had weekends off, all of the school vacations including summer (much needed—you try wrangling 200 teenagers for 9 months and convincing them to learn and do the things you wanted them to do ). I traveled to and visited my family regularly several times a year.

My schedule was consistent, and I was teaching courses I enjoyed, like Geology and Marine Biology. I loved my colleagues and valued the connections we built at my school. I knew that I would never teach anywhere else, because this was home.

I had all of this — job, paycheck, pension, secure housing, decent schedule, great friends, family time, regular vacations — and yet in April of 2025, I tendered my resignation to my principal and broke the news that I wasn’t coming back next year.

Instead, I was moving to France.

Are You Mad?

That was the response I expected. After all, this was the question I asked myself every day. Are you mad? You’re just going to give up job security and a stable life, just like that?

Instead, everyone was really supportive, including my family. My colleagues and friends were actively rooting for me. Many of them traveled abroad whenever they could, so they knew the draw of life overseas. They understood. And like me, they knew there were plenty of reasons to consider a life outside the U.S.: lower cost of living, affordable health care, affordable groceries, basic human rights, women’s rights, leaders that believed in science and reason, less gun violence, better work-life balance, governments and society structured to care for its citizens, escaping the oncoming fascist regime, and so on.

Many, many good reasons to consider life abroad.

For me, though, it really came down to two main things:

I had always wanted to live abroad.
I was ready for something different in my life.

The sociopolitical climate simply added a deeper sense of urgency to the timeline.

A Dream Deferred

I’ve been wanting to travel and live abroad ever since I took a trip to Mexico in high school. Initially, I wanted to travel right after graduation and do missions trips (I was super Christian back then), but my paternal grandfather shot this idea down. He was adamant: “No, go to college first and get your degree.”

To this day, I am incredibly thankful for that advice.

So I went to college. I earned my Bachelor in Science degree at Colorado State University, studying Zoology and later adding Biology as a second major. I looked into doing a study abroad program while I was there, but couldn’t make it work with my required science courses.

I did, however, spend two summers in the Czech Republic teaching English. It was amazing, and I loved it. Being on a different continent, seeing architecture I’d only ever seen in movies, learning about buildings and histories centuries older than my own. The history, the culture, the cobblestone streets, the tremendous cathedrals and monuments, the countryside…I wanted MORE.

I wanted that to be my life all the time.

Photos: spending time in Prague as a young college student

But then I changed trajectory midway through college, deciding I wanted to be a science teacher instead of a veterinarian. I shoved the idea of life abroad into the recesses of my mind to focus on my teaching credential and new path in life.

The first step on this path was to intern with the coolest program ever, Little Shop of Physics. We traveled around Colorado and New Mexico with 88 hands-on science experiments arranged like Tetris in the back of a tie-dye blue van named Bertha, spreading peace, love, and the joy of science to hundreds of schoolchildren. It confirmed that teaching science was definitely my thing.

After graduation, I returned to California to pursue my secondary education credential at Humboldt State University. I completed my year-long credential program, stuck around for a year of substitute teaching, and then took my first—and only—full time teaching job in Rocklin, California.

While I adjusted to life as a new teacher, I also took on a new hobby, needing something to do outside of my work. However, instead of making travel a priority (because that cost money a teacher at the bottom of the pay scale couldn’t spare), I became obsessed with German shepherd dogs and Schutzhund instead.

Narrator: Little did she know, this is just as expensive as traveling—if not more.

Schutzhund provided opportunities to travel and explore new places. While attending and assisting with national events, I went to Niagara Falls, visited to the Corvette Museum in Kentucky, spelunked in limestone caves, froze on the trial field at a National Championship in Ohio. I found the best Greek restaurant with the best Greek food I’ve ever had (in Bowling Green, KY, of all places). Even getting my first German shepherd involved traveling to British Columbia, Canada — my first time outside of the U.S. since college.

The Schutzhund life was exciting and fun, and scratched that travel itch for a while. It also gave me a way to pursue my writing. I wrote for Schutzhund USA magazine for over a decade, started my own blog called Schutzhund Life, and also did a little freelance content creation and blogging here and there. It was fun until it wasn’t.

Competing at the 2014 USCA National Championship in Ohio with my first German Shepherd (left); visiting Niagara Falls while helping with the 2017 Working Dog Championship in New York (right)

I was already pulling back from the Schutzhund life when COVID hit and the world ground to a halt. My job description changed overnight as we entered the era of Zoom.

Distance teaching almost killed me. Not because of the frustration of staring at 34 silent black rectangles with student names in white Lato font, or of being Zoom-bombed at random, or of being sequestered in my home office away from all my friends and family.

No, it was because of the insane workload required to convert in-person science teaching (with labs and fun activities) to remote curriculum, instruction, and work for students, then to convert that to a hybrid in-person/at-home model later. On average, it took an extra 10-15 hours a week just to make it work.

FYI: Teachers don’t get paid for overtime, even when the overtime was necessary to provide a quality education.

I was so exhausted, so burnt out in the months and years that followed. The burden placed on teachers to do everything, fix everything, teach everything (including things that should be taught at home, like how to be a respectful and considerate human), be everything for our students was becoming unbearable.

I stopped dreaming of any type of future for myself, and focused only on surviving and doing my job—which seemed to constantly change in ways outside my control.

It wasn’t all bad, of course. I loved my colleagues, liked my students, enjoyed the subjects that I was teaching. There were many great things about teaching, many joyful moments and meaningful connections and impactful changes that I was a part of.

And yet…

I knew in my heart that I couldn’t keep doing this forever until I retired. I wanted something different for myself, for my life. Something less stressful, less draining, less needy, less confined, less at the whim of extremist right-wing school boards and politicians.

I wanted something liberating.

Return of the Dream

One of my coping mechanisms was to talk with a close friend about life and about wanting things to be different. Our conversations frequently turned to travel, and then to living abroad. Sometimes it was just escapism, but there frequently were grains of hope and truth there too. Our talks watered that dream that lay parched and dormant inside me.

It began deepening its roots and sending up little leaves of hope. But I plucked them off with a “One day. Maybe when I retire.”

By 2024, researching travel destinations was one of the few joys I had in my life, and one of the only things I was excited about for my future. At work, I struggled to be the effective and amazing teacher that I knew I was. I was losing myself, my passion, my characteristic joie de vivre.

Being too exhausted to have any type of life myself, I lived vicariously through the adventures of others. I talked frequently with colleagues and friends who traveled to places like Ireland, Spain, Italy, Japan, Australia, Thailand, Costa Rica, Chile, Morocco. I drank in their stories like a parched succulent, storing it up inside and pining for the day when I too would have travel stories to tell.

Maybe, just maybe, that day could come sooner than I anticipated.

Why not? I thought. I could travel solo. Solo is my preferred norm, so…fuck it. Let’s plan a trip!

I started plotting a big trip to Spain and Italy. I bought Rick Steves guide books, watched his travel videos, researched online, got lost scrolling through travel accounts on Instagram. I mapped out my planned journey, kept adding and swapping towns and activities.

Then one day, while looking at the map of my proposed travels, I wondered: Why am I skipping France? I love cheese. I love wine. I should definitely go to France!

I tweaked my trip to include France as the bridge between Spain and Italy. From there, the trip slowly morphed from seeing Provence and the French Riviera into becoming ALL about France. I wanted to explore every wine region, every forest, every geologic feature, every mountain and beach, and all of France’s grand cities and quaint towns.

I grew particularly keen on France, and so I went all in.

I started taking French, first with Duolingo, then with Alliance Française and later with ATFrenchies. I bought more Rick Steves books and read about France every night. I searched for French media, consuming French shows like Dix Pour-Cent (Call My Agent), Lupin, Candice Renoir, Astrid, The Favorite Villages of The French. I dreamed of moving to France and exploring Europe from there.

It was the first time in a long time that I had any sort of specific vision and dream for my future.

I even investigated teaching abroad for a bit, but quickly realized I didn’t want to be doing the same thing just in a different place.

I wanted an entirely different life.

“Maybe in five years?” I told myself. “Once my last pet has died and I’ve had a chance to save up a big cash cushion, pay off debt, and maximize my retirement.” In the meantime, I settled for a three-week trip in June 2025, to scout things out and decide if I’d like to move there one day.

Making The Dream A Reality

Every day, I hustled home from work so I could read Rick Steves’ guide books and tweak my travel plan. Thinking about travel led to thinking more about living abroad.

“Why not check that out more?” I said. “Just to see."

So I looked into taking a “learn how to move abroad” one-session course at the community college’s community education. It was $89, but I wasn’t sure if I wanted to spend that much on a half-day course taught by someone who may or may not have lived abroad (they made no mention of it in their bio, and that seemed like an important detail to include).

Somewhere in my Instagram scrolling, I saw an ad for a Move Abroad Boot Camp for only $37 (full disclosure: this is an affiliate link, and if you sign up for the boot camp using this link, I do receive some financial compensation. But if you want to do the Boot Camp, please use my link! :) ).

“Huh. This sounds too good to be true.”

Intrigued, I clicked on it to read more, to see if it was indeed too good to be true.

The more I read, the more excited I got. This was exactly what I was looking for. An intensive four-day workshop to help construct my own move abroad plan, being held by someone who has actually lived abroad in multiple countries for nearly 12 years. In fact, they were currently living abroad right now.

I hesitated a moment, then shrugged and said “Hey, it’s only $37, so why not?” I registered with Move Abroad Coach for the Boot Camp that would be held that weekend.

It was the best decision I ever made.

I learned about visas, destination research, building your own business and being your own boss. I discovered how to build the life that I wanted, giving myself something to run toward instead of just running away from life in the U.S.

Suddenly, my Move Abroad Timeline went from “maybe in five years” to “why not now?”

I remember that moment so distinctly. It was October 2024. I sat in my comfy recliner with my laptop, giving excuses via Zoom to Richelle, the Move Abroad Coach, as to why I couldn’t move abroad for at least another five years. Stuff about waiting for my last pet to pass away (in 3-5 years time), waiting to pay off debt first, trying to maximize my retirement by staying in it for just a few more years…

Richelle listened intently, then looked me straight in the eyes and asked: “Why not just move abroad by this time next year?”

“Next year?” Gulp.

“Yes. Why not move next year instead?”

The thought stunned me. The wheels in my brain started turning, it suddenly it seemed like a very real possibility. Until that point, moving abroad had always been something nebulous in the future, a “I’ll do it one day” type of promise to myself. Just the “one day” kept getting pushed back.

But now, here it was, the opportunity to ACTUALLY DO IT.

It was like I had been waiting for permission to do it, and that permission had just been granted.

The more I thought about it, the more I realized this was a “now or possibly never” situation. My current German shepherd was healthy and not too old to make the move now. Everyone in my family was doing well health-wise, and my parents were still very active and able to travel. And while I hadn’t maxed out my years in teaching yet, I would have a decent pension if I didn’t touch it until I was in my 60s — and a chance to earn more in the interim working for myself, in a place with a lower cost of living and affordable healthcare.

The more I mulled it over, the more it made sense. Now was the perfect time. Plus, I could always go back to teaching if it didn’t work out.

I finally cemented my decision after having two friends pass away from aggressive cancers within two weeks of each other, only months after their initial cancer diagnoses. This reminded me harshly that we aren’t guaranteed a future, and continuing to put this off “until I’m ready” meant I might not get to do it all.

I didn’t want to live with that regret.

So I made the decision. “Yes, I’m moving abroad in fall of 2025.”

The Final Year

From there, everything happened quickly.

I set my move date and began to investigate in earnest. Where did I want to live? What were my non-negotiables? What type of lifestyle did I want to have? What places would work for Hadyn, too?

I narrowed it down to the Alsace region near the border of Germany, with the Loire Valley as a backup. Alsace could be my “First Not Forever” destination.

I mean, have you seen the photos?

Just gorgeous.

My dream trip for June 2025 changed to a 10-day scouting trip over our spring break in April. I spent time in Strasbourg (pictured above in the first and third photos) and its surrounding areas, and found the town that I vibed with (which wasn’t actually Strasbourg—future blog!).

When I returned home, my colleagues wanted to know: “Is this it? Did you like it enough to move there?”

I hemmed and hawed for a couple of days, talked it over with a few of my close friends at work.

“I’m not so sure,” I said. “It’s a really big step.”

“Have you seen yourself in your pictures?” one of them asked me. He pulled up the photos I’d sent the work group text while in France. “Look how happy you are!! Kuehn, I haven’t seen you like that in a long time.”

Having worked with him for 19 years, I trusted his assessment. Yet I hesitated to take that last step because it was so…final. Real.

I finally talked it out with my assistant principal, who was not only a friend and mentor, but also a solo-travel afficionado herself.

“When you think about coming back to work in August next year, what do you feel?” she asked.

My gut twisted and my chest tightened anxiously at the thought. “Not good,” I replied. “Really, not good.”

She looked at me kindly. “Then you have your answer.” With tears in her eyes, she leaned toward me and pinned me with her gaze. “I’m so freaking proud of you.”

Yes, I cried. Then I wrote my resignation letter and turn it in to my principal, who gave me a big hug and also told me how happy he was for me.

Holy $h!t, this was actually happening.

From there, it was a matter of telling everyone else. We broke the news in a staff meeting, and I fielded questions from curious colleagues about what prompted this decision and what I was planning on doing in France (spoiler: working for myself at Toujours Vin Curieux, my freelance wine writing and consulting business). I was reminded yet again that I worked with some pretty amazing and supportive people.

Then I had to tell my students. This was the most difficult part of all, because part of me felt like I was letting them down by not being there for them next year. I had to break it to each of my six classes over the span of two days. It got a little easier by the end, because each time I said it aloud, it became more affirming, more real.

My students were a mix of stunned, excited, curious, and sad. Once the news spread through the gossip chain to the rest of the school, students I taught in past years came to see me to ask questions, wish me luck, and give me hugs. It was emotional. They would be the last of the 4,000-ish teenagers I’ve taught over the years.

My hope is that I inspired them to be brave and pursue their own dreams, no matter how scary it seems.

After making the decision, I booked my flight, booked my dog’s flight, booked a short-term vacation rental in my destination town, and began to collect the paperwork needed for my visa. My move was now just months away.

No pressure.

Narrator: There was nothing BUT pressure.

Once June hit, it was a whirlwind of selling or giving away my belongings, downsizing and moving out of my house, submitting my visa paperwork, and getting Hadyn set for international travel.

The rest of the summer was the goodbye tour spent visiting family and friends, plus my visa appointment and interview at TLS Contact in San Francisco. After the visa appointment, it was just a matter of waiting.

Fun fact: you don’t actually know if you’re approved for your visa until you get your passport back in the mail from the French Consulate in Washington D.C. Until then—you just hope and pray.

When my passport finally arrived in the mail, I tore open the package with trembling hands, gingerly removed the little blue book, then fist-pumped the air with joy when I saw my French profession libérale visa affixed inside.

I’m really going!

The Last Odds and Ends

Now to wrap up the last of my life here in the States and get Hadyn cleared for travel. This was the most stressful part, as everything with the dog had to be done within a strict timeline.

Ten days before our flight, I took Hadyn to his vet appointment for his health certificate (which revealed an unexpected heart murmur diagnosis, requiring a follow-up echocardiogram), which was then submitted electronically to USDA for endorsement. The veterinarian had to resubmit the certificate the following Monday, leaving only five days for USDA to endorse it and send it to me via FedEx.

Cue the anxious nail biting.

In the meantime, I sold my truck and rented a pickup so I could get myself and Hadyn out to San Francisco for our flight. I packed and repacked my life into a suitcase and a backpack about a dozen times to get it right. This was all that was coming with me, plus the dog — assuming his health certificate came through.

Two days before our flight, Hadyn’s endorsed health certificate arrived by FedEx delivery at 8 AM. The delivery driver handed me the envelope, and I stared at it in my hands for a good five minutes.

This is it. We’re really going.

*Walking Hadyn along the waterfront in San Francisco. This was our last day on U.S. soil.*

The next day, I drove myself and Hadyn out to San Francisco. As I sat there in tortoise-speed bumper-to-bumper traffic on the Bay Bridge, I was so thankful that I wasn’t trying to get to the airport to fly out that same day. Instead, my dog and I stayed at the Sonesta Select Oyster Point Waterfront hotel (highly recommend for anyone traveling with dogs), where we took walks along the waterfront and tried to relax.

Key word being ‘tried’.

I was a bundle of nerves, and Hadyn was just excited that something big was happening and he was included in it. Still, we did our best to enjoy our last night on U.S. soil with long walks, pizza, and sleep.

To France

The morning of our leaving day was beautiful. Our flight was in the afternoon, so I had time to walk Hadyn along the bay to ensure he had plenty of exercise and an opportunity to go potty.

Four hours before our flight, I wheeled Hadyn’s crate and all my luggage down to the lobby, where we waited for the shuttle to the airport. When the shuttle arrived, it was quickly evident that Hadyn’s ginormous crate wouldn’t fit through the doors. So the driver and I dismantled it, undoing all 16 screws and only losing one of them in the process (thank goodness I had extras!). He shoved each half of the kennel upright in the very back. Hadyn and I took our seats next to the crate, where I braced it during the bumpy ride to the airport so it wouldn’t crush us at every turn.

At the airport, Hadyn’s crate dolly (best investment I ever made, this simple device here), crate halves, and all my luggage were unceremoniously deposited onto the concrete island outside the terminal. I tipped the driver, loaded my luggage into the clamshelled crate, and wheeled us to a bench outside the terminal so I could reassemble the crate.

Hadyn was a champ for the whole process of waiting, loading, and checking in.

Check-in was a breeze, thanks to the wonderful staff at Air France. They took care of us separately from everyone else, reviewing Hadyn’s paperwork, affixing more stickers to his kennel, and checking in my bags. We wheeled Hadyn’s crate through the airport over to TSA, while Hadyn walked on leash beside us. After the TSA inspection, I loaded Hadyn up in the crate, zip-tied the door, then waved good-bye while they wheeled him away to be loaded onto the plane.

One 11-hour nonstop flight later, we were in France.

*We have arrived!*
Picking up Hadyn in baggage claim at CDG airport in Paris, France. It was an ordeal that involved an extra hour spent tracking down lost luggage (because someone took one of my bags thinking it was theirs) and an angry and frustrated Hadyn who was DONE with being in his crate.

*But we made it safe and sound!*

If you want to listen to my adventure in picking up Hadyn at baggage claim and getting to our final destination, check out the podcast episode I did with Move Abroad Coach. Hadyn’s journey is a long story in and of itself, so I’ll save it for another blog (or three).

We spent one night in Paris at a hotel near the airport before heading to our new hometown just 30 minutes away from Strasbourg, two and a half hours away from Paris by train (5-6 hour drive). It was a complex journey involving multiple elevators, escalators, and trains, but we made it.

WE MADE IT.

New life in France, here we come!

*Our arrival in our new home town. Hadyn was very happy to be on a grand adventure — and to no longer have to wear his muzzle (required while on a train).*

Stay tuned for future blogs about the move-abroad process and our new life in France!

Kuehn Abroad