The priceless debt that got me to Paris

American writer Kristi Evans on intentionally using debt to spend an unforgettable summer in Paris

This is a guest post by money coach, freelance writer and performing artist Kristi Evans. Kristi works one-on-one with women who want to heal their relationship to money, guiding them to create a personalized, values-aligned wealth plan — without shame or overwhelm. She loves a glass of wine while cooking.

Learn more about Kristi here and follow her on Instagram.

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At 40 years old, after a year of living back with my parents, and having left my whole life, job and apartment in Seattle after a painful miscarriage and traumatic break-up, it’s safe to say my life, heart and finances were in a bit of a shambles. In the process of putting my life back together, I moved out of my parents’ house into a place with two roommates with a Dachshund who loved to poop in my bedroom. I was working in a pub to pay rent.

So when my Parisian friend, Helene, who was leaving France for three months for work, asked me if I’d like to move to Paris for the summer of 2017 to stay in her apartment and water her plants — I stopped breathing — and then I said yes! My joyous yes was immediately followed by another voice in my head, shrill and annoying, “UMMM, excuse me, but how are you going to do that? You are barely getting by as it is — you are in no position to go to Paris, you weirdo.”

How would I do this crazy thing? I had just moved and signed a rental agreement and I would have to quit my pub job, of course. It was highly unlikely I would be a desirable hire in Paris, with my inability to speak French and lack of work visa, so I would have zero income for three months and no job to come back to. One thing was clear: Summer in Paris would not be possible without the help of a credit card or two.

This certainly concerned me. Life’s setbacks had left my finances unsettled, but I hadn’t lost all my wits. Frugal by nature, I was very reluctant to use credit cards to go to Paris. I am not a throw-caution-to-the-wind type of gal. I actually never throw caution anywhere. To calm my nervous system, the best plan for me was to determine, in advance, how much debt I was willing to use. Without having a precise idea of what my expenses in Paris would truly be, I chose $3,000 as a comfortable amount of credit card debt, and decided on a hard stop at $5,000.

I chose this number by guess-timating how long it might take me to pay off and what amount of time I could live with debt hanging over me. $5,000 debt, at 18% interest, at the wage of the last job I had, would take me 2.6 years to pay off. This would also mean having no savings until Paris was paid off. And I felt OK with it.

I looked at it this way: I am paying an institution fees in exchange for that institution giving me money I don’t currently possess so I can say yes to an incredible once-in-a-lifetime dream experience instead of dying wondering “what if??”. Surely that is worthy of a fee. Using debt as a service felt acceptable to me in this scenario.

Once that decision was made, other little magical things began to fall into place.

Helene needed a little bit of rent for her Paris condo that would come to around $1,500 for the whole three months. With my resolve to make this work against all odds, I developed a new out-of-the-box financial mindset. My next step was to ask for help and lean on others. Since I would not have a job over the summer, I would use the experience to launch a travel blog, hopefully jumpstarting my new (just decided on) career as a travel writer. I spoke to my friend Harold about being my patron and told him how much I needed for the rent. I wrote him a proposal to be my patron of this new career adventure as a writer. Graciously, he wrote me a check.

My rent in Portland was inexplicably handled by my roommate Ruby (who was not a grump exactly, but certainly enigmatic and, if I had to ask her how she felt about me, I would guess she would say, “Meh”). Ruby suggested subletting my room and took it upon herself to find and manage the two ne’er-do-wells who ended up renting it. (This part of my story is almost the most stunning to me, and proof that there is a higher force that clears a path for you when you really make up your mind about a thing. Also — people are good and will help you.)

Next I reviewed my recurring bills, starting with my car payment and insurance. I called my auto insurance company and secured a reduced payment as the car would just be sitting, not being driven for three months. I didn’t defer my car payment, as it was only $140 (love an economy ride!), so I saved as much as I could to cover three payments in advance.

I was also able to suspend my cell phone bill here in the States for 90 days with a $10-per-month fee. I also agreed to help with utilities in my Portland apartment, roughly $65, and I kept my $50 automatic savings rolling monthly. I whittled my monthly costs at home down to roughly $150.

Even reducing these expenses, there would be the reality of plane tickets, a French phone service provider, groceries/food, transportation costs, toiletries, nights out, loads of croissants and any other little thing my heart desired to experience in Paris. With no income, I held tight to my agreement to use debt but to not exceed $5,000. Off I went!

I still remember how scared but strong I felt arriving at the Paris airport.

I navigated the Roissy bus to L’Opera, transferred to the metro, and successfully crossed town on the subway. Jetlagged and hauling luggage up and down the many stairs in the metro, I finally set foot in my new neighborhood. Helene was still in town, thank heavens, and she led me to the apartment that would be my home for the next few months. Her building had one of those old tiny elevators with a gate (so lovely), and we smushed ourselves in with my bags up to the seventh floor. Helene had told me nothing about her apartment, and I’ll never forget the magical moment when I walked into her cute little place and my eyes drifted to the window. There she was: The Eiffel Tower! I gaped at Helene and she said with a quiet side-smile that only French people can do, “I wanted to surprise you.”

Delight. I was exactly where I needed to be, and it was already worth the price of admission. I would get to watch the Eiffel Tower sparkle every night from home.

After Helene’s departure, in the weeks that followed, I spent days and days wandering around Paris, eating cheese and croissants, buying half-bottles of Champagne to keep in the fridge, learning to speak French, getting lost, visiting The Louvre and the Rodin museum, buying perfume, reading Hemingway, writing and drinking espresso at outdoor cafes, and feeling levels of happiness I had never known. I even joined a Meetup group of French strangers who were die-hard karaoke enthusiasts. (You haven’t lived until you hear Metallica sung by a middle-aged French dude. Heavy metal with a French accent is trés adorable.)

Navigating Paris and learning how to accomplish everyday tasks like getting a cell phone plan alone in a foreign country were empowering experiences for which I have no price tag. They have greatly enhanced the way I walk through the world today. I also ended up cultivating what would be lifelong changes, not to mention lifetime friends. I made a deal with one of Helene’s dearest friends, Matthieu, to barter French lessons for singing lessons. During one of our first singing lessons, I discovered a vocal technique that would change my life, ultimately leading me to release my own album of original music just a couple of years later. Releasing an album with my original music had always been a dream of mine, and may never have happened but for that fateful afternoon singing in my apartment in Paris.

I also did a little shopping. I purchased beautiful items for myself and gifts for friends, including but not limited to, copious French toiletries, a beautiful leather travel bag, and fake-gold hoop earrings from the Saturday artisan market that appeared on the cobblestone square near my metro station every Tuesday. There was also rose petal confiture, expensive mouthwash with gold snakes on the label from Buly and as aforementioned: So. Many. Croissants. To say I treasure every single one of these items and these experiences would be an understatement.

So what was the price tag for all this happiness?

Upon returning home, I did have to promptly look for work, because my debt accumulated to the tippy top $5,000 mark. I was quickly hired as a restaurant manager at a pretty hip Portland restaurant. Managing that restaurant felt like one of the seven circles of hell, but I was making a salary and I had consistent income. I was able to make $300 to $400 payments to my credit card bill and paid it off after 18 months. It certainly took discipline, but I am not joking when I tell you that even though I had to live frugally all that time, it was a pleasure to pay down that debt. Zero regrets, zero shame.

While I realize my sabbatical in France may seem frivolous and even irresponsible to some, this was one of those unique unicorn moments when I can say wholeheartedly, thank God for debt! Because it starts to sound really ridiculous to think that in our tight little un-nuanced worldview about debt — DEBT BAD — that I should have denied myself those life-changing months of unbridled joy because I couldn’t afford it in that moment. Please. I did end up affording it later, and besides, who can afford it? Someone who works the same hours as I do but happens to work in a higher paid industry? Are they more worthy of a summer in Paris? Ludicrous.

We are all worthy. I had recently lost a baby, a relationship, my job in Seattle and my friends. Living and taking care of myself in Paris brought me back to life. I would advise any one of my friends to do the same if given the opportunity, even if they had to throw some of it on a credit card.

It may sound like I’m a big fan of using credit card debt; I’m not. But I feel no shame around using it in specific circumstances. So many of us have to use credit to simply stay afloat. I know I’ve had to. That summer, I was able to use it to live my best life. The key for me is to be aware of the consequences and to create a thoughtful plan to deal with the realities of the decisions I intentionally make with the resources available to me.

I am still friends with Helene and recently had the privilege to travel to the French countryside and meet her partner and their new baby boy.

And Paris, for the light and love you gave to me and which I still carry with me, I will forever (happily) be in your debt.

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For more on dealing with debt without shame, read Dana’s book, You Don’t Need a Budget.