Besançon: The Quiet Flame That Almost Called Me Home

A love letter to a city that shaped my path, even though I didn’t stay.

In 2014, when I stepped into France for the first time. I didn’t know then that the country would one day become my second skin, but something stirred even then. And one of the first places to hold me in that early wonder was Besançon.

Tucked between green hills and quiet rivers, circled by a citadel that felt more like a guardian than a monument, Besançon wasn’t flashy. It didn’t need to be. It had history in its bones, thoughtfulness in its air, and a pulse that felt steady, like it had nothing to prove.

I remember the streets, soft and worn with time, curving through the city like whispered invitations. There were festivals alive with color, cafés filled with students and locals, and layers of importance buried beneath the surface—Roman roots, watchmakers, revolutionaries. This wasn’t a town dressed up for tourists. It was a city living its own truth.

There was something deeply grounding about it. Maybe it was the presence of the mountains, watching from a distance. Or the embrace of the river Doubs, looping calmly around the heart of the town. I’ve always been drawn to places where water and land meet with quiet reverence, where nature and history wrap around each other like old friends. Besançon had that.

And yet… it didn’t become my home.

Later that same trip, I visited Alsace. Not Strasbourg yet, but the villages. And something flickered again. A different kind of magic. A different kind of story waiting.

When it came time to choose a home in France, I thought long and hard about Besançon. I nearly said yes. But Strasbourg offered something I couldn’t ignore, connection. To other countries, to the world. A rhythm that matched my work and my wanderlust. A place that still had rivers and mountains, but also an open door to everywhere else.

Still, I think of Besançon often. The way you think of a first love, not with regret, but with tenderness. It was the first place that showed me I could belong somewhere in France. That there was space for me here. And I carry that gift with me still.

Some cities give you a future.

Others give you the courage to imagine one.

Besançon was that kind of city.