Visa costs and rejections reshape a Paris newcomer

visa restrictions – A New York native who moved to Paris in January 2024 on a student visa says the hardest part has been the shift from daily life to permanent work rights—especially when non-EU hiring can trigger a tax that can reach 55% of a salary and when securing a long-ter

In January 2024, she packed her “most essential belongings” into three suitcases and left New York City for Paris. It was meant to be a fresh start: she was “jaded by corporate America. ” looking for a change of environment. and she arrived on a student visa with a simple goal—build a better life halfway across the world.

Nearly two and a half years later, the new life is real. So are the costs she hadn’t fully priced in.

The work starts with something mundane: trying to book a doctor’s appointment in a language she isn’t yet fluent in. Even small tasks can become harder to navigate as an American living in France. But the bigger squeeze is the job market—particularly for non-EU citizens.

“Because of visa restrictions, it often feels like I have to work 10 times as hard as French nationals and EU citizens to secure a permanent work contract in my field,” says Moïse Mbarga-Abega.

In France, the hiring burden can carry a heavy bill for employers. When companies hire a foreign worker for 12 months or more, they are typically required to pay an annual tax that can equate to 55% of the employee’s salary. For small enterprises and startups, that is not a small line item.

That reality filters down to the ground-level experience of job seekers. Mbarga-Abega describes a job market so tough for non-EU citizens that many expats in Paris have turned toward fully remote work, freelancing, gig work, content creation, or entrepreneurship to generate income.

Securing a contrat à durée indéterminée—an open-ended. permanent work contract—becomes. in her words. “like holding the winning lottery ticket.” She says the process is shaped by chance and attrition: job hunting involves numerous rejections until someone offers an opening through networking or an internship that leads to a long-term role. In the US. she says she would still wonder whether rejection came from her résumé or whether the company wasn’t able or willing to sponsor a work permit. In Paris, she doesn’t have to question the visa factor in the same way—but the outcome remains grinding.

On the personal side, the move also created a physical divide. By moving away from home. she says she left behind family members and lifelong friends. and while she stays in constant digital communication and calls often. there’s a sharper ache when “the going gets tough.” In New York. when she felt low. she could take the subway uptown for a home-cooked meal or meet friends downtown after a rough workweek. She misses “small. fleeting moments of communion” she once treated as routine—like Spanish small talk in the deli or supermarket with her mother tongue. or even the simple recognition of other Black Americans on the street. a smile or nod she says she hasn’t seen replicated “across the Atlantic.”.

Because most of her community is back in the US. she says she has anxieties about experiencing a crisis situation while living abroad without immediate emotional and physical support. Even so. she also credits the time it takes to form deep friendships. especially as “a guarded introvert. ” and she is grateful for the small community she does have in Paris. Her hope is that when people are “at our most vulnerable,” they will show up for one another.

Local questions keep returning too. After she moved. she says the first thing some locals ask is. “So. why did you move to Paris?” Her answer is consistent: she fell in love with the city and wanted to create a life “on my own terms.” The curiosity can feel genuine. she says. but it still lands hard because she doesn’t fully feel like she belongs here.

She knows it would be easier to live where she was born. where her support system is close and she wouldn’t have to worry about visa status or “justify why I deserve to stay” where she lives now. She also describes the everyday friction of language—regularly apologizing for her “slight accent” as her mouth adjusts from the stress-timed rhythm of English to how French “cuts and stitches words together.”.

Still, choosing all of it remains part of the argument she’s making with herself. She says the real privilege, for her, has been “taking the leap and proving to myself every day that I’m stronger than I think I am.”

The sequence of her experience is clear in the details: a move that began with three suitcases has become a long-running negotiation between everyday life and the right to stay. For non-EU workers. the job search doesn’t just measure skills—it measures sponsorship realities. employer economics. and how often you can afford rejection while building a future far from home.

For now, she says she feels like she is always fighting for her right to stay in France. The stakes aren’t theoretical. They show up in doctor appointments, in applications, in the tax employers may face for hiring, and in the distance between her and the people she’s used to reaching in person.

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