Category: French

Our French Integration – Two Years on

Posted on Posted in American Expat, Beauxvillage, Dordogne, Expatriation, France, France, French, Lotetgaronne, Maison, maison de campagne, The French Life, Travel, Voyage en FranceTagged , , 2 Comments

What that really means is two years in our house in Southwest France; we officially arrived in November 2022.  Upon reflection, it has actually been four years since we embarked on the rather ambitious plan to RV through the US and Canada, then sell up and move to France.  This of course required copious amounts of planning and navigating a plethora of unforeseen circumstances, but here we are now, finally settled in.  

Many echo the sentiment that it takes around two years to get situated here and I concur; navigating the initial long-stay visa to even get into France, the fantastical amounts of paperwork to get into the healthcare system (where documents are lost or mangled on a regular basis), and then applying for a first year-long stay visa (more mounds of paperwork and much of it is done by snail mail).   And that’s not all!! For me, since, unlike my husband who is also British and can follow the Brexit rules, I had to obtain a driver’s license since I would not be allowed to drive after the first year in France on my US license.  Since I was not from a “reciprocal state,” I had to embark on what turned out to be a rather expensive two-year journey of getting bounced around the system, studying and exams – and to both of our relief – I am now able to drive throughout the EU and UK!  So some US citizens can exchange their license which means they really don’t know the rules – so the good thing that came out of this was I actually know how to stay out of trouble on the roads.  

We also had the added challenge of finding a house and were very lucky to snatch up a lovely, affordable country home with a converted barn (gite). All of this required extensive networking, language challenges, and we were grateful that we had the helping hand of British bilingual agents, and to our delight a lovely country neighborhood with a mix of French, Dutch and British citizens.  It really does take a village to get established, and after literally years of being on the move or dealing with the French systems and culture, and with our home improvements winding down, we are finally starting to feel settled. 

A beautiful spring day

The French are making it a bit more challenging to retire here; if you are under 65 when you apply for your 10 year Visa (this happens after you have been a resident for five years), you are required to test for intermediate French which is no small feat.  Many early retirees have been blind-sided by this and are scrambling to qualify for the test.  We fortunately dodged that bullet (currently being 65 or older and our ten-year visa is still a few years out), but are looking to get a tutor regardless as we love the language and want to be able to better navigate the systems here.  Thankfully the French can be very forgiving if they know you are making an effort.  

Many would view our life as living in this bucolic fantasyland – partly because when most people think of France they think of Paris, Bordeaux or the Med.  There is a fascinating term connected to this called “Paris Syndrome,” described as experiencing a sense of extreme disappointment exhibited by some individuals when visiting Paris, who feel that the city was not what they had expected.

The syndrome is characterized by symptoms such as acute delusional states, hallucinations, feelings of persecution (perceptions of being a victim of prejudice, aggression, hostility from others), derealization, depersonalization, anxiety, as well as psychosomatic manifestations such as dizziness, tachycardia, sweating most notably, but also others, such as vomiting.  

Paris Syndrome

This afflicts primarily Asian, especially the Japanese populations, and in my opinion has to do not only with managing expectations and aspects of the fantasy world known as Paris, but about life in general not living up to expectations.  

France is one of the most touristed destinations in the world; verdant vineyards, rows of heavenly lavender, medieval villages, stunning chateaus and some of the best food in the world and…Paris of course!  What’s not to like about this “utopia.”

Recently a retired couple was featured on CNN about their terrible experiences when moving to the Nice area; referring to the vegetable racks full of limp celery and other such fake news that the local blogs lit up with the affection of “move back to the U.S.” 

While it’s not all wine and roses, especially with the drastically inefficient government systems when it comes to visas, getting into the healthcare system (which once accomplished introduces you to some of the best medical communities in the world), getting a driver’s licenses (that may warrant finding a therapist to recover) and navigating the dual taxation systems…once you have overcome these sometimes mind-numbing challenges, the smiling faces of those fields of sunflowers take on a whole new perspective. 

As for limp celery I almost feel that the French should sue this couple for defamation!  We live in an area of green rolling hills, vineyards, fertile fields and are front and center on how hard the farmers work here.  Contrary to what some people think, most of the French are not lazy – they just take their time.  Granted, they don’t fire anyone due to union protections, but even their colleagues work around their less-than-competent cohorts (who in my opinion should be fired by any standards based on my occasional encounters) to provide in many cases superior customer service. There is a national pride here, and unless you’re rifling around someone’s garbage I have never seen limp produce in any market anywhere – oh except for the “ugly vegetable bin” where leftover produce is sold for virtually nothing. 

They are an entitled bunch in that the government workers typically work a 30 hour week and retire early but that’s due to the social programs that have been instilled for decades.  The French people will never go bankrupt due to credit card debt or medical issues; we were issued a debit card – not a credit card and if you make a big purchase you can’t afford right away, you set up installment payments.  

They also love to talk, sucking up the airwaves with whatever gossip or issues that require a well thought-out review.   They take their time at the “marche” checkout as the store isn’t just for shopping, they block the isles in chattering clutches, having a good catch up on whatever is going on in their lives.   

Yet, they can be very forgiving of our poor French and appreciate the effort.  And will take the opportunity to practice their English – sometimes to our disappointment.  

But it’s not all about the picture-perfect lavender fields in Provence or the striped umbrellas in Nice.  

Here are some observations I’ve made in my last few years as an immigrant that definitely keeps the reality of France in check: 

The roads are in great shape and they always seem to be improving them – yet the government buildings in general are pretty run down from an aesthetic perspective; they are typically boxy-like stone buildings in desperate need of pressure washing and while efforts were initially made for landscaping most of them are overgrown with weeds. It’s similar in many of the strip malls depending on where you go. The medical buildings are very similar depending on the practice and can be very utilitarian.  My stereotypes were definitely realigned after my first year here.  This is so different from the US where public areas typically boast formal gardens and well-kept buildings. 

While some of this may not appeal to my aesthetic ideals, I find that garbage isn’t a thing – you rarely see any garbage on the side of any roads or strewn about the villages.  Derelict vehicles and furniture dumping that is so common in Portland is not a thing here; you get a serious fine here if you get caught.  We do see some of it (rarely) tucked away where the authorities don’t venture but it is the exception rather than the rule.  

On the flip side of that, the town centers are where you find the classic medieval structures and cobblestoned streets with quaint shops and lovely bistros.  This falls into the idea of maintaining the essence of classical French ambiance. As we have discovered, if you decide to put a structure on your property, especially if it is anywhere near a tourist area, you need permission and it must be in keeping with the surrounding aesthetic.  

During the tourist season, brace yourself for this one, many of the French retreat to McDonalds, Kentucky Fried Chicken and Burger King!  Primarily to get away from the tourists at the over crowded bistros. We have been in these fast-food establishments and they keep quite busy, especially for families who don’t want to be bothered by the crowds. The menu is similar to the US except the ingredients are local and definitely taste less processed. There are no swirly soft-scoop ice cream cones though, but they use that same ice cream for their sundaes so I can still get my fix regardless.

The French are perfectionists when it comes to their culinary reputation, and their castles, gardens, boulangerie, chocolateries are the some of the most exceptional in the world. And that is true for the area that we live in; our local chocolatier has the best hot chocolate (chocolat chaud) that rivals what you would find in Paris. Add some Chantilly Crème and you immerse yourself into a heavenly delight. 

Yet, in the countryside they don’t care much for Parisians and their designer clothes and perfectly coiffed hair.  Out here, while we don’t dress like slobs, it’s much more relaxed and we can go into the local village with sweatshirts and tights (they usually wear jeans or tasteful slacks) and actually fit in.  If we’re going to “town” – meaning with a larger population like Bergerac, then we dress up a bit more that usually includes a scarf. The fashion is understated and in some cases tastefully chic. 

Now, getting down to the nitty, gritty issues that can easily miff Americans and Brits (and even some of the French): 

EDF, the electrical company here at times just shuts down the electrical to your house.  Sometimes they will give you a notice, but rarely do they follow the actual schedule.  When they are working on something in the vicinity we experience the occasional surge that has been know to blow out some of our electronics – despite having an electrician installing heavy duty protectors.  Yet we have fiber optic running to our house and we are rather remote!  We have good wi-fi and with our VPN having been enjoying all the US and UK streaming services😍

They do the same thing with the water – you will get a warning and thinking you have a half hour before they shut it down – boom!  You have no water.   We make a point to keep gallons handy in the cellar…just in case.

If you decide to rent a car here, you will experience the manic drivers – especially if there is a black Audi involved.  The countryside is not really policed so many will tear by you at 20-30 KPH over the speed limit, cross a white line on a curve, or if they can’t maneuver around you they will be right on your bum thinking you are going to go faster = not.  They violate most of the Code de la Route (of which I’m rather an expert in now); it’s as though they go through the pain of passing the tests and then are possessed by some evil spirit.  

The two hour lunches are a bother when you forget that – oh yeah, the local hardware store (brico) or pharmacy is closed because the French feeding time is from 12-2:00. In the larger towns (think Bordeaux or Toulouse), it’s not so much of an issue but you still have to rush around before noon if you are going to one of the shops that religiously adheres by this rule.  And after lunch the restaurants close down – usually by 3:00 and don’t open back up until 7:00.  This is true except for the fast food chains such as McDonalds, KFC, Burger King etc.   So don’t expect to grab an early dinner unless you want to get some “grab and go” from the local supermarket.

And don’t expect anything to be open on Sunday – you may find a boulangerie open in the morning (as you can imagine baguettes and a fantastic array of breads are on ritualistic display -we’ve seen locals come out with armfuls), but when we moved here we were quite shocked to find even the big box supermarkets closed down for the day!  

Getting over-the-counter meds requires a trip to the pharmacy:  Je voudrais de l’ibuprofen s’il vous plaît – and you can only get one packet at a time of about 10. The same goes for the cold medications or anything that is viewed as a drug.  So no bottles of 30-90 count ibuprofen from Safeway like back in the states. 

It is so counter-intuitive to our life in the U.S.  

We will be off to Paris again soon and I will blog about some of the less-touristed sites we will be visiting…and more on the quirks of being a Francophile! 

The Renault we bought in November 2022 that has since motored us through France, Italy, Belgium and the UK – that I can now drive!  

Spring 2024 Wales to Versailles

Posted on Posted in American Expat, Beauxvillage, Dordogne, Expatriation, France, French, Jardin, Lotetgaronne, maison de campagne, The French Life, Travel, Voyage en FranceTagged , , , , , , , , , , Leave a comment

It is a spring morning in Southwest France.  The moon rises in the west, in a half-lidded sleep disturbed by the awakenings of dawn, the sun then simultaneously awakes in the east as if to say “it is my turn now, and the birds concur.”

This was my first birthday in France; I realized my last two birthdays were spent in Hawaii and Venice.  As that sentiment rolled around my consciousness I feared I was becoming a snob. Yet, fifty years ago I was a country bumpkin oblivious to either one of those venues and my exposure to French culture came in the form of words like “Bon Marche” and a concoction called “french dressing”  that was best reserved for “french fries.”  

After struggling with these conflicting perspectives, I was soon abandoned to the day and the few chores I needed to accomplish before heading out for my birthday lunch.   

As it turned out it was actually a surprise lunch as I was greeted by our neighbors and smattering of American friends we had collected over the last year.  I am really starting to feel more at home, especially now that we have gotten our Carte de Sejours (residency cards).  Though I do wonder if the French have an installation on Mars; so much of the paperwork is copious – bordering on the obscene and many of their systems are still manual instead of online – it really does make you wonder.  Now that we have completed our paperwork we can actually have a celebratory bonfire to get rid of the backup materials that certainly came in handy but are taking up way to much space.  

Otherwise we have been busy in the garden, coping with (and dodging) the torrential rains that per everyone we talk to, are quite unprecedented, and those few days of sunshine and perfect temperatures only makes one yearn for more of the same. 

We had much to do before heading for the UK, as we are planning to spend time with Bob’s sister and brother-in-law in Malvern, and then vacation on a barge, boating our way through the canals of Northern Wales for four days.  

We managed to get the potager planted and some of our privet hedges in before taking off as it would soon be too dry for planting.  With our new 3200 liter underground water tank we can set the sprinkler on a timer and the tank replenishes itself when it rains so we really aren’t wasting any water while we are away.  

The drive from Doudrac to Rouen was a grueling 10 hours as we had some unexpected diversions; we were rightly exhausted once we arrived at the hotel.  The next day we had the adventure of taking our car on the “LeShuttle” through the channel tunnel to England.  It is quite a feat of engineering!

When we disembarked we were driving on the left side of the road which as it turned out, Bob navigated rather nicely.  His British muscle memory kicked in though I still felt dyslexic as being on the opposite side is very unnatural for me.  We got to Malvern late in the afternoon; it was interesting being back in an English-speaking country though I had to catch myself so I wasn’t expressing French greetings!  

After getting settled in at Bruce and Kathryn’s place,  we headed to Boots that is like an American CVS pharmacy where we can get over-the-counter meds that aren’t easily accessible in France, such as saline eye drops in a bottle (the French have these little vials they use that is really an eye wash), Deet insect spray – simple things like that. Basically it was easier purchasing these items instead of performing pantomimes at the French pharmacy.

We then had a great evening at the Rotary where Bruce is president and enjoyed a tasty meal on a stellar golf course; this gave us a chance to dress up for a change.  

We had nice weather in Malvern and besides going for walks, we also rearranged our luggage for the four day barge cruise on the canals in Wales.  It’s only a two hour drive from Malvern, and after long days in the car from France to the UK it was a welcome relief. 

Wales is one of the wettest spots in England and as you drive through the countryside, the hills are of a lush green, partitioned by hedgerows, with the sheep and the Tudor-style homes; you do realize why this area is so special.  England is more dense than France, due to the physics of size but the English oaks and chestnuts seem more grand, I think because of their “wingspan.”  Many sit apart from their brethren, dominating the fields with their massive limbs, occasionally accompanied by willows and birches.

One can argue that the Dordogne is equally lush, though I think the Perigordian stone, that bleached stone that you see on the signature structures in the south of France, has a bit of a Mediterranean flair.  And the French farmlands are vast by comparison, with dryer and warmer summers.  It’s the summer thunderstorms that keep the area green – though violent they certainly help to maintain a balance to the farming community.

As we drove through canopies of trees, it felt more like a primordial jungle that had been fashioned by a hungry dinosaur instead of modern-day commerce.  

We arrived at the Blackwater Meadow Marina, the beginning of our trek along the Llangollen Canal.  We unpacked our cars sans the luggage bags (like the RV there is only so much space) and set off down the canal.  The weather was lovely, warm and in the 60’s, and we hoped it would hold for the majority of the trip.  

As we embarked we were greeted by some swans and ducks and we kept seeing the goslings – they were so darling!  We otherwise floated quietly through the farmlands. 

Bob and Bruce managed the till and we went up the river for a few hours and stopped as it was already getting late; we moored up for the night in a beautiful location overlooking rolling meadows and a dairy farm.  

We were able to get out and stretch our legs along the towpath; back in the day the barges were towed by horses so these are well-tread paths along the entire length of the canals.  

We settled in for a nice cottage pie and awoke the next morning to several cows staring at us!  

After breakfast we headed out and were greeted by two locks that took about ten minutes to fill and are manually opened and closed.  

We spent a relaxing few hours moored off in a wooded area for our tea which consisted of scones, jam and…clotted cream – one of my favorite British delicacies.  After that indulgence I took off for a nice trek along the towpath; the weather was perfect, it was not crowded and I was able to do some “tree-bathing.”  Soon I stumbled up on the England/Wales border with an English translation of Welsh on the signs.  Then came the tunnel where the barges pass through on their way to and from the famous Pontcysylite Aqueduct.  

I greeted our barge on my trek back and we made our way to the tunnel that turned out to be a bit of an adventure as there is no system such as a green light telling you when you can go, and we wound up having another barge reverse back out of the tunnel as we made our way through.  It takes about ten minutes and there are apparently bats🦇

Bruce ran the length of the tunnel with his cell phone to navigate our passage😉

We soon passed over the Chirk Acqueduct and then across the Pontcysylite Aqueduct that is a World Heritage Site and an astounding feat of engineering.  It can also be dangerous as the entry (gap) to the boats don’t provide any protection from falling off into the meadow far below – eeek!  

We decided to moor up in nearby Trevor.  As it was a beautiful day, Kathryn and I went for a hike under the aqueduct; it’s a very manageable trek along the river where you can sit and take in the woods and the spectacular arches of the aqueduct. 

We decided to spend the night in this area and as we sat down for dinner, alas, the rain came. 

We were socked in for the night and then into the following day. We decided to make a slow and steady journey back and as it was raining pretty hard at times so we were limited in our adventure options.   It turned out to be a bit miserable for the guys as they had to remain outside to steer the barge.  

By mid-afternoon the rain let up a bit and we moored up at the Lion’s Quay, an upscale resort and made reservations for a proper sit-down dinner.  I went for a walk up to the golf course and experienced a sort of Watership Down as there were rabbits popping out of the hedgerows…everywhere! I got a decent walk in and then we had coffee at the resort then soon we were off to drinks and a nice dinner.  

As we were near a busy street we boated downstream a bit more to a quiet area so we could have a peaceful night’s sleep.  

Our adventure through the canals of Wales

The next day we headed at a slow pace back to the Marina, so far the weather was holding up. We disembarked and returned to Malvern and were back by early evening. All in all it was a very relaxing time and we got some much needed rest that has been seemingly impossible when we are at home.  

We spent a few days at Bruce and Kathryn’s, including hikes through the Malvern Hills which was spectacular.  

Hiking through the Malvern Hills

We then headed to Basingstoke and onto the Winchester to visit more of the family before landing in Dorset on the last leg of our trip in England.

Sadly we learned we lost Bob’s favorite Aunt Brenda Montgomery, a powerhouse in the Canadian medical community; we thankfully had a chance to visit on our RV trip in Nova Scotia. ❤️‍🩹

On our way back to France we visited Bob’s Uncle and then overnighted in Dorset at the Coppelridge – an ode to a place we stayed when we first met 30 years ago.

30 years on at the Coppelridge – we had more hair back then!

We stopped in for lunch with the incomparable and renowned British Explorer Colonel John Blashford-Snell and his lovely wife Judith whom we had traveled with to Guyana and Nepal.

https://www.johnblashfordsnell.org.uk

This break also included a stroll through the quintessential charm of Shaftesbury, known for its meandering streets, thatched-roof cottages and lovely views of Dorset.

The famous Gold Hill in Shaftesbury

After some interminable stop and go traffic through south London, we finally made our way to the channel tunnel where we experienced further delays.  At this point we were looking forward to getting home but we had one last stop:

The Palace of Versailles.

The massive scale with the accompanying level of artistry is nothing short of astonishing.  The landscape and architecture is, as is always the way with the French, the celebration of the art form; meticulously crafted and restored everywhere you look.  The grounds, canals and waterworks go on forever; even after a one hour bike ride and 23k steps 😫you still can’t take it all in.  While you can’t call it “restrained” by any means, it differs in other palaces such as Lindorf in Germany which borders on the grotesque with all of its overbearing embellishments.  

And the queen’s hamlet (a bit like a hobbit village but inspired by the colombage architecture of Normandy), is just another example of lavish spending by the royals of the day so you can imagine why the hungry and weary decided to revolt and take Mademoiselle’s head.  

Versailles was created as an idea – a fantastical playground cordoned off from reality.  It just kept growing over the centuries until it became the phenomenal sprawl that it is today.  

When the baroque music plays throughout the garden you can easily envisage the royals and entourage in all of their finery.

What I liked the most: 

Overlooking the canals and gardens, it creates a soothing balm to wander around and it wasn’t too terribly crowded.

The Hall of Mirrors

The Queen’s Hamlet

Breezeways with pink marble and black and white tile of the Grand Trianon.  We got lost wandering through the gardens and stumbled up on an incredible foundation, recently restored and not on any map or brochure.  It’s quite an astounding thing!  

Lastly, the signature French architecture with the dark gray and gold embellishments (just the best).

The weather gods were kind to us as well.  We had a spit of rain during our bike ride, but the skies cleared a bit and we had good weather whilst strolling through the Grand Trianon.  When we got back to the canal (Petite Venice) we scored a seat at the restaurant just as the thunder cracked and shortly after we were seated the skies let loose in monsoonal splendor.  We watched as several other tourists came hurtling in for lunch – some of them pretty dang wet.  

By the time we finished eating, the skies had cleared and we made the way to the main palace for our 4:30 time slot. 

Note – the Chinese tourists are back in full bore; due to their restrictions even post-Covid we were spared the swarms during our RV trip. We were especially thankful as the national parks were crowded even without too many foreign tourists. Sadly, overcrowding at any popular tourist destinations is becoming a real issue everywhere.

Trekking through Versailles

We got home late the next day to an overgrown garden that would keep us busy for quite a while – though we were glad to be back in our La Maison.  

We are looking forward to summer and are excited that the Tour de France is coming through our area – we plan to watch the tour pass through on July 11🥰

Now for a French moment:

While we were in the UK, Bob’s sister gave us a lovely book full of whimsical illustrations by an Englishmen who lives in the Southwest France.  What a delight to read such relatable expressions!

Humor during the pandemic😆

March 2024 Our Dream Maison a Year Later

Posted on Posted in American Expat, Beauxvillage, Dordogne, Expatriation, France, French, Jardin, Lotetgaronne, Maison, maison de campagne, Photography, The French Life, Voyage en FranceTagged , , , , , , , , , Leave a comment

Was it really a year ago that we collected the keys and took possession of a decade-old dream of moving to France?  Sure, the expectation was to be excited beyond belief, yet we found that our elation had been replaced with relief, excitement with anticipation; our foray into the French delivery system (as in goods), as I would soon learn, begged the same treatment as an entire chapter out of a Peter Mayle novel.  It’s difficult to invoke the anticipated glassy-eyed euphoria since we had nothing to sleep on 😁 and soon learned our bed had gone MIA, though we did have our washer, dryer, freezer and TV delivered as promised, so were far better than anyone on the Gaza Strip.  And…having an established address cures so many of the French administration requirements for “proof of residency,” as we now have utility bills to prove we are in fact residents.  So there👈

We did manage to get our bed, a manic adventure that warranted more than a good night’s sleep. While we were living the spare life, we had plenty to do before our container arrived, including curating furniture to replace what we had divested back in Oregon. We ventured to brocantes and online shops to find pieces that would fit the theme of our new digs.  I also managed to get the paint color matched up, again much to my relief, but then to my dismay discovered the lack of coverage (as in watery thin) and ridiculous price for 3 liters of paint could only be made up by wine, cheese and copious amounts of baguettes.  Sure, I could find some cheap and cheerful color knock-offs, but they wouldn’t match the color that the majority of the interior was painted in. And it was a nice warm cream color that enhanced the amber and gold light that blessed our mornings and evenings that make Southwest France so appealing.  You have to make concessions every once in a while. 

Master bedroom before and after

Dining room before and after

Terrace before and after

Even though it’s been a year we are still finding a home for some of items, especially our artwork.

Bob’s birthday lands in January and we opted to go to the lovely L’Atelier, that was once a Michelin star restaurant, and still provides the same level of service and outstanding food presentation; in fact they were ranked #1 by National Geographic for food lovers exploring the culinary delights of France. This, mind you, is a few minutes from our house in the charming bastide of Issigeac. Being that it was chilly, and a Sunday, I decided it was best to make reservations as the French tend to flutter into the local restaurants after Sunday church services and al fresco was not on the menu.  We scored a lovely table next to the cavernous dining room fireplace.  And as predicted, we were soon surrounded by what appeared to be some rather well-off Brits and French floating in for a long “repas” or meal.

L’ Atelier on a summer day

Much to my surprise they had the black squid-ink pasta; I had tried to obtain this delicacy in Venice, but it wasn’t on the menu of the restaurant that was recommended to us.  The meal was your standard two hour French affair with the added bonus of the artistic flair and mouth-watering delights that the French are famous for.  In America, in a small town of this nature I would be lucky to find a Denny’s!  We have visited our fair share of “greasy spoons”, though tragically I do miss the Denny’s grand slam breakfast with the hash browns and American bacon. We have to settle for the British variety of bacon which isn’t exactly the same, but not all is lost as we have been able to obtain Bisquick for an occasional pancake feast.  

After enduring the torrential rains of last fall, January saw a dip in temperatures, but unlike our friends in Portland, Oregon who had sub-freezing temperatures, with trees collapsing on their homes and their pipes bursting, we had our heat pumps and wood stove to keep us cozy.  

We welcomed a thick layer of frost that enveloped the surrounding fields like a dusting of snow, making for a dreamy albeit bracing experience upon exiting the house.  When the sun burst through, it disrupted the vision causing temporary blindness, with its threat of rainbows and warmth, it otherwise was a tease and never really warmed up for the entire day.  This only lasted for about a week and then we went to the other extreme with temperatures cresting 60 degrees; confusing the bees – though the butterflies apparently couldn’t be bothered; I don’t know that bees are dumber than butterflies but they were having some challenges to say the least. 

The weather finally leveled out to more normal temperatures for February, thankfully without the flooding we had in the fall. Everyone says spring has come a month early; the rosemary is blooming giving the bees something to feast on and the mock cherry trees are  even budding, providing some healthy competition to the daffodils.    

We are now falling into a bit of routine with our weekly trips to the Saturday Market in Villereal.  Villereal is small (a whopping 1200 residents) but is a bustling community that supports the surrounding population and is rather crowded during the tourist season.  We aren’t near any really large cities, both Bergerac and Villeneuve-sur-lot are 22 – 27,000 inhabitants respectively, and are only a half hour away through the valley, interrupted only by the occasional commune or bastide.  They have everything we need including most of the French big box chains and charming medieval city centers where you can grab a cuppa and watch the world go by.  We are over two hours from Bordeaux and further southeast lies Toulouse. Toulouse is one of the largest cities in France and is another couple of hours away; it’s not quite on the scale as Seattle but it sure has the population density feel to it.  It has a good airport and we tend towards flying out of there so we aren’t stuck with the Ryan air cheap-seats out of Bergerac which is fine if you’re going to Paris but not anyplace much further.  They both have Ikea and just about everything you could possibly need including better options for Asian faire. 

Suffice it to say we are a respectable distance from any major centers and Villereal, with our doctors, nail and hair salons only ten minutes down the road.  Heck I would drive that far in Portland for many of my appointments anyway!  Here we glide through the backroads of countryside, vineyards, orchards, and rustic farms to our appointments. There’s also a smattering of horse stables nearby and we have on occasion have had to slow down to let riders and trotters (with carriages) pass.   It takes a bit getting used to and adds to the local charm.  

Our upgrades on the house continue – though not the major renovations like we did in 2023; we had guttering installed on the south side of the house to mitigate the problems with flooding in the cellar (not to be confused with some magical wine cave as it houses the boiler, washer and freezer), we will be able to capture more water and also pump the overflow away from the house into the nearby field. The rest of the house had guttering except for this side for some reason.  

I completed the painting and the floor treatment in the upstairs hallway; my aging body is glad this is now completed and in recovery. The hallway had been bit of a train wreck for a while with unpacked boxes and “stuff” that was placed there to be attended to “another day.”  It appeared the floors hadn’t been touched in decades and some stain and wax gave them a lovely rustic patina. We now have a gallery wall to include some of my photography and art collections and books. I love using picture ledges as they give you more freedom on appointing art without copious amounts of wall-banging. These walls are thankfully drywall, but much of the house is stone so one must use discretion.

Upstairs hallway updates

The wall leading to the office is what I have deemed a “memory wall” (in progress) so we can reflect upon our loved-ones, living and passed on, as go about dealing with the copious amounts of paperwork required to maintain our existence in France.

In the meantime, Bob has been turning over the garden plot with manure and compost so we can get some planting done this year.  Our water tank is in the ground and operational; we are certainly not lacking water right now with unprecedented rain systems hitting us, but we could wind up with a summer drought at which time we’ll be thankful for the water buts and tanks.  We have an additional tank (but) installed on the northwest side of the house to water the “acid garden” which will include the blueberries that we will be planting in the next month.  Otherwise, we are still navigating the mud-scape but will be planting grass soon and look forward to the pool area being landscaped later this year.  

We are also invited to a feast sponsored by the commune (Doudrac) where we were introduced as new residents – we are the only Americans in this vicinity so are a bit of a novelty; it seems everywhere we go when they find out we’re Americans they seem so pleased; I took my ankle boots to the cordonnier (shoe repair shop) in Eymet which is a British enclave not too far from us – when he looked at my boots he said they were very good and I mentioned they are American and that I’m American – he thought it was the coolest thing!  I can only assume it’s due to the popularity of American items in France and also our efforts during the war.  We are always very welcomed pretty much everywhere we go.  We are now able to hold down some albeit stilted conversations in French when we visit the market or the pharmacy which is rather exciting.  

We are looking forward to spring and getting our vegetable plot going, known in France as a potager. Bob is also designing a flower garden that will include gladiolus, dhalias and an array of wild flowers.

In May are planning a trip to the UK, specifically Wales, to enjoy a barge trip through the Welsh countryside and catching up with relatives.  More to come on our spring exploits!

…Now for a French moment:

French farmers block the streets of Paris in protest of too many restrictions and too many exports of foreign produce. This mayhem extended all the way to our area including spewing manure on McDonalds, supermarket chains and government buildings 💩

Farewell 2023 – Welcome 2024!

Posted on Posted in American Expat, Dordogne, Expatriation, France, France, French, Lotetgaronne, The French Life, Travel, Voyage en FranceTagged , , , , , , , , Leave a comment

It never ceases to amaze us that it’s been over two years since we embarked on an ambitious plan to retire, travel through the US and Canada, then move to France. I remember sitting in our lovely backyard back in Portland during the summer of 2021, the pandemic was still with us as we worked on the early stages of our transition; setting up yard sales to divest our belongings and planning our travel route for the following year. All that work culminated in 2022 being an extraordinary year as we motored to far flung places (when you think of the Yukon, even the name itself provokes images of a vast, untouched wilderness)  finally landing in France in November (yes, that too is far flung!)  – a foray into a different kind of unknown.

Enjoying fire and ice in the Yukon, celebrating the sale of our house in Portland, right before the market started to slide – of course! 

Now, as we close out 2023, I find myself reflecting on how manic the last few years have been: Retiring…supposedly, just no longer working at a career! Downsizing, Rving across US and Canada, downsizing (again) and packing for international shipping, selling our house, then…selling our RV post walkabout, pulling our Visas while on the road, and then landing in France with a bunch of luggage with our minds set on finding that dream home in the countryside.

December 31, 2022 Recapping an Extraordinary Year 

We hit the deck running and luckily, within a month, we scored a lovely french colombage cottage (as it really is humble with those classic stone walls and timbers) and…then came the waiting game. 

Welcome to 2023:  Let the games begin.  After securing our dream home, we were still wading through the banking challenges (the US FACTA regulations that really create problems for American expats) and trying to line up appliances for the house while navigating the language challenges, and not yet having a French bank account or credit card.  March 1st marked the signing of our home and we gathered our keys, but we did not rush to the house in a fit of euphoria as we had to make a visit to the French Government to apply for our Carte Vitales (healthcare), which at the time we were told would take only a few weeks…after nearly weekly calls Bob finally received his in June, mine finally arrived in November!  

We had scheduled our first European road trip to Venice in April, but of course our container of belongings had been delayed by three weeks – so to add to our drama we had to unload everything from the moving truck to the house and gite the day before we were set to take off for vacation.  Completely exhausted from this ordeal, I virtually passed out at the hotel on the first night of our trip.  I had managed to twist my knee a few weeks earlier, and while we were out touring I came down with a cold, but somehow managed to enjoy the sights of Venice, albeit I would have preferred to have been in better shape.  

April 26 – May 7th Venice by way of the French Riviera 

My cold got worse, and when we finally got back I was able to crash and burn, though it was hard to ignore the hundreds of boxes and the general carnage…argh.  I eventually got some rest and started to feel better, and it was actually quite exciting to dig through the mountains of supposedly downsized possessions to find the stuff that actually did bring me 🤩 

Upon reflection, if we had received our container as scheduled, it would have been super nice to have gotten somewhat settled before road trip…but that somehow has not been our Karma since arriving; many of those mission critical action items came through at the last minute much like the epic climax of a B-rated movie.  

Come late May, the pool was installed, during a torrent of spring rain – of course. It’s a lovely addition to our lifestyle that we have used throughout the summer, but we are in dire need of landscaping as we have these sort of steampunk tractor-track sculptures embedded in much of our lawn, and a rather large plot of thick mud that soon became reminiscent of Death Valley as the summer heat settled in for a long hello.  

This heady weather beckoned our relatives from the UK and we suspect that will become a common occurrence in the coming years.  

With so much to do, and with our solar, air conditioning and other improvements on the way we thankfully stayed put for the summer, venturing out on the rare occasion to visit cool castles (chateaus) and explore the neighboring villages and bastides that ooze with charm.  

Despite our challenges, when we have been out and about on our bikes, or walks or generally driving, we marvel at the surrounding beauty; the quietude, the stars, the well-cultivated farmland and vineyards set among soft rolling hills.  When people talk about a quiet place in the countryside, we certainly nailed it.  The universe has rewarded us generously for our efforts.  

In the fall we took a break and motored up to Normandy – an emotional and fulfilling respite from our challenges.  

November 11, 2023 Veteran’s Day – a Special Tribute

We came back with the air conditioning, solar, water tank, water softener all in the final stages of completion; we were prepared for a Zombie invasion, or more down to earth, for climate change as the weather systems, so we are told by long-term residents, has caused the summers to get hotter and as we have experienced through most of November and into December, torrentially wet; it has not been this wet in this region of France for over ten years and we felt like we have been back in the Pacific Northwest.  This unprecedented moisture caused the local rivers to overflow and in some cases we were cut off from the access roads into town.  I felt bad for those who had structures, especially mills (moulins) as they were suffering the most being built virtually on top of some of these minor rivers that were bursting over the roads.  

The end of our garden turned into a bit of a marsh and our cellar, which resides in a concave below the house, got some minor flooding that we had to pump out – again we were told this has never happened.  So hopefully we will be rewarded with our foresight of the coming challenges by preparing for floods, droughts and heatwaves.

The rain finally subsided and I envied those gorgeous hilltop bastides; like any war zone, those lofty structures remain somewhat immune to the insanity unfolding below.  A beautiful sort of insanity.  

Approaching the holidays, we decided to attend a class hosted by one of our French friends on the art of making Foie Gras.  This included dismembering a duck and removing the rather impressive liver this particular delicacy is known for.  

Duck fat and Foie Gras

It was a long two day adventure and we sat at her lovely farmhouse table in what can really only be described as the quintessential French kitchen with a fireplace and room for a small army.  There was a group of about ten of us enjoying duck soup (literally yes – the remnants of our efforts!), and some nice Sauterne.  

As the year closes out, we are relieved to have gotten through most of the heavy lifting with our French paperwork..and our major home improvements done. Though we have our work cut out for us next year with the landscaping challenges, we can do a lot of that at our leisure.  Fortunately, our lovely neighbor who installed our underground water tank (for the garden) has access to a supply of topsoil, so come spring we can get the lawn back into shape and I’ll be able to work on my potager that I’m really excited about. 

And thankfully, and much to our elation, we had our appointment with the prefecture in Agen (think of it as a state capitol) to complete our processing to receive our Carte de Sejour, it is a fitting closure to the year and a welcome sigh of relief.  

For Christmas we decided to stay local with a few days in Carcassonne – an astounding medieval fortress (also referred to as a fortified city) that is a UNESCO World Heritage site.  It is the largest walled city in Europe. 

On the way, we stopped by Toulouse to check out their Christmas Festival which was buzzing with activity and charm. 

Christmas Fete in Toulouse

Yet, it was nothing compared to what met us when we arrived at our hotel in Carcassonne on Christmas Eve:  We had a view of the fortress that became increasingly dramatic as the sun set. 

 It’s like experiencing time travel – magnificent

We ventured out to the town festivals and were met with an astounding array of Christmas Villages throughout the city; I felt as though I was walking through a wizardry of light, the surrounding vibe matching the festive ambience. Many areas were constructed as amusement parks for the kids.  This is the night that the French come out in force to celebrate what is known as Bonne Fete (good festival) coupled with Joyeux Noel (Merry Christmas).  We huddled with the masses, feeling much like the kids who played in eye-wide wonder everywhere we went.  

Christmas Eve in Carcassonne

After logging in copious amounts of steps and being thoroughly amused, we freshened up for dinner that we were told included a lovely jazz trio.  When the band struck up we were serenaded with classic crooner type jazz in English!  The music drifted into the dining area and as is much of the case in France, dinner is usually later in the evening and an affair that lingers for hours.  

After dinner we sat in the lounge drinking our cafe cremes, in a setting similar to a good old 1920’s jazz club (not an exact replica but as close as you’re going to get these days😉). 

On Christmas Day we went to the stately medieval fortress itself, admission is free except for the actual ramparts that were closed for Christmas.  Despite that we were blessed with very few tourists; like Mont St. Michel, Carcassonne is usually packed with tourists.  This made for some fun roaming around pretty much undisturbed.  

We were so enamored we went back the next day and did the tour of the ramparts – while there were a fair amount of tourists I wouldn’t say that it was crowded and we were delighted at the fantastical history of this sprawling fortress.  

An added bonus is that the weather was startlingly clear and we got some good cardio hiking up to the cite. We could see the Pyrenees in the distance, their peaks glinting with snow and ice.

A stroll the the medieval fortress of Carcassonne

We stopped by Toulouse on the way back to check out the famous Victor Hugo market that is seen on just about every travel show on the area.  Toulouse turned out to be jammed with people, and with the weather being as it was, we skirted the crowds and dropped into a fantastic find-of-a-restaurant that sported dim sum and dumplings.  This was definitely going to be a new haunt being a classic Chinese diner with black vinegar sauces that shot me straight into orbit!

The Victor Hugo Market in Toulouse

We meandered our way home, always grateful when we crest the hillsides and slide into the Dordogne Valley, traveling through the backroads and the welcoming solitude. Sometimes you need to experience the madness of civilization to further appreciate the serenity of a rural homestead. With a long sigh, we are can now settle into the New Year, puttering away at our remaining projects at our leisure. 

In a few months, I will be able to enjoy a leisurely cup of tea in the garden, breathing in the blossoming air, bathed by the sun. At noon the church bells of our local commune will ring in the distance, giving us pause from our tasks.  All will be quiet except for the sound of nature at its best; the only interruption being the occasional passing of a tractor or a thunderous announcement from the French Airforce out on maneuvers. If those are the only fleeting interruptions on a typical day in the French countryside, then I have surely found my slice of heaven on earth.  😌 

Happy New Year to one and all and may you have a peaceful and prosperous 2024!

Now for a French Moment…

An entire village of chocolate #willywonka

December 1, 2023 – Our First Year in France

Posted on Posted in American Expat, Beauxvillage, Dordogne, French, Lotetgaronne, maison de campagne, The French Life, Travel, Voyage en FranceTagged , , , , , , , , Leave a comment

November 17th marked our first official year in France! The same day, ironically, I received the receipt for my Carte de Sejour – meaning my long term residency visa is being processed❤️  On the other hand, while Bob got enrolled in the healthcare system by early summer, I only recently received my paperwork to finalize my Carte Vitale. For some folks it goes quickly, for others it can take over a year or more which apparently appears to be the case with me.  We also received the renewal for our car insurance, realizing that yeah, it really was a year ago when we landed in France and managed to get our lovely Renault within a few weeks.  Within another month we had found our dream home. Yes, we know time slips away while you are busy doing life things, but this last year seems to have gone by really really fast.  

Looking back, one of the biggest challenges, aside from dealing with the legendary French administration and language barriers, was the lack of predictability; we had been on the move since the beginning of 2022, not knowing where we were going to eventually wind up, except that it would be somewhere in the Dordogne.  We were confronted with a constant stream of challenges; for Americans it can be daunting as you aren’t prepared for the banking and driving license issues – there’s some mention of these issues in the “playbook” but those are mostly relegated to Facebook groups that can be fraught with misinformation.  Many times we felt like we were in a B-rated movie where everything came through, frantically, at the last minute – I mean everything like – you can’t close on your house until the money is transferred but you can easily miss the deadline due to the banks taking days and days to get you your money😅

Granted, our experience is not exactly “A Year in Provence,”  but there are definitely certain sentiments that echo that ideal and make it all worth it:  The lovely countryside (I would argue the area we live in is equally as stunning as Provence, but not as touristed or otherwise known by Americans), the ancient beaux villages, incomparable cheese, wine and spirits and frankly, we have found the French to be quite lovely people. Due to the lassez faire culture, we have been forced to wind down and adapt, into an alien “whatever” or “it’s France” 🤷‍♀️way of thinking which is a far cry from the American New-York-minute mentality.

It takes time. 

One of the other challenges was finding contractors who could help us with the upgrades to our La Maison.  The stories you read in all the books are true, with the Facebook pages recounting stories of paying money to contractors and then they no-show for months or simply disappear altogether.  

We lucked out on a great British firm based in France for our general home improvements to include:  Solar panels, partitioning off the gite (the reconverted barn) so we can have a home gym and “woman cave.”  We added a water softener as the water is so hard here, we have been chipping calcification residue off our small appliances; we have a black kitchen sink – this does not bode well with the current water situation.  And thankfully we had split air conditioning installed so we can endure increasingly hotter summers; people who have been here for 20-30 years have never seen this region of France get so hot – it would rarely breach 90 degrees.  

We also added an underground water tank and an extra water “but” to capture rain for the garden areas; climate change brought us an unseasonably warm fall – into the upper 80’s well into October – that was then followed by unprecedented rains and flooding in the north.  

Our pool that is still awaiting a retaining wall thankfully did not become a mud bath.  The rain was so biblical, the surrounding unfinished trenches started to fill up at an alarming rate causing the mud wall on the north side to collapse into the trench itself, thus making matters worse. Fortunately our fabulous pool installers foresaw this calamity and had installed a drainage system so the overflow runs down the lower part of the property.  It creates a bit of a marsh and the frogs are in paradise.  

Yet, there is so much mud that Bob went to the local dechetterie to get compost (yes they have free wood compost in these places).  That way we can walk around the property without gaining inches of height – just cleaning your boots of the wet clay becomes a Herculean task.  We are looking forward to next year when the landscaping will be complete!!  

And…then there were the stink bugs.  What we didn’t know is that this invasive species loves to propagate amongst the sunflowers.  While we were enjoying la la land, they were happily proliferating amongst the acres and acres of flowers that besides providing necessary oil, are also a major tourist attraction.  In September, when the flowers had been harvested, we were flooded by hoards of escapees that set up house in every crevice they could find.  We reinforced the window screens with tape and created a Tupperware “piscine” where they were offered free swimming lessons. 

Add to that, it was well into the 60’s until mid-November, which is unprecedented like every other weather event it seems.  This has confused some of the flowers and insects who should have been in hibernation by now.  We found ourselves actually looking forward to a cold, dry fall and winter so we could get some reprieve as even the mosquitoes were still active!  Granted it’s annoying, but it was nothing compared to some of the insects we encountered in Canada and the Southern U.S. 

We decided to take a break from our “endless” transitioning with a trip to Normandy by way of a few UNESCO sites. You can read up on the Normandy experience in my previous blog:

November 11, 2023 Veteran’s Day – a Special Tribute

Our first stop was the rather impressive Chateau de Chambord – we have been to many of the castles scattered around our region, yet they are more like fortifications perching atop cliffs; grand in scale where you imagine dragons knocking around in secret underground caverns.  Chateau Chambord is a unique filigree of architecture – a lovely revelation in curiosity; grandiose but not too gaudy.  The massive oil paintings, some with royalty portrayed as sultans, remind us that this is a place worthy of kings. Otherwise the scale was spared in favor of a more intricate nature – at sea level. Here, as I wandered up the double helix staircases and through the paneled rooms, I felt surrounded by epitome of french refinement.  

I originally mistook some of the spires for Russian, then when I thumbed through the book at the gift shop it suddenly hit me, of course, the architecture was inspired by grand east-Indian palaces, or what are referred to as mahals, as in the Taj Mahal.  This created a rather evocative playground; what child-like imagination was let loose to invent the mazes of rooms and double helix staircases much to the delight of the likes of Marie Antoinette. The original architect is unknown, the records were destroyed, yet the inspiration for this fantastical edifice has been traced back to Leonardo DaVinci; such intrigue!  This ah-ha moment, like any DaVinci puzzle, makes the experience even more provocative.  

A visual snapshot of Chateau de Chambord

The chateau is a bit off the beaten tourist track and was used during the war to house some of the great works of art from the Louvre such as the Mona Lisa and Venus de Milo.  An exhibit is dedicated to the courageous Rose Valland (think of the movie “Monuments Men”), who risked her life to save over 60,000 pieces of priceless art.  

Well, Chateau de Chambord turned out to be an unexpected delight, it’s a helluva place that I wouldn’t mind poking around a bit more on a jaunt to, maybe Paris.  The joy of living in Europe; I get to be a kid again.  

The rain set in for the rest of the day and we were looking forward to tucking into a cozy room for the evening. We had booked a lovely hotel – it was more like a manor with those obscenely high ceilings you see in chateaus and posey Parisian apartments. Considering it was a reasonably priced accommodation we were well impressed.  A simple dinner with a gin and tonic next to the fire topped off our evening.

After we completed our pilgrimage to Normandy to visit the stirring memorials, we headed for the legendary Mont St. Michel.  As we toodled through the countryside I went into a zen-like state – I always take pleasure in this, and imagine if fortune provides, a convertible sports car on a summer day wouldn’t be out of the question; France shamelessly warrants this level of indulgence.

Then, from a misty distance, like you experience as you approach a large snow-capped mountain on a misty morning, Mont St. Michel slowly begins to reveal itself.  It is more of a science-fiction fantasy experience as it appears as though it’s a disembodied citadel that’s floating above the surrounding delta.  

We had snagged a hotel with a view and luckily, walking distance along the boardwalk to city.  That was you can get an assortment of angles and include some roving sheep to add to the perfect backdrop.  

We walked around much of the perimeter, watching groups of bare-footed tourists in what appeared to be arranged tours, wading through the mud; we weren’t so inclined to take part in that once-in-a-lifetime experience so stuck to the sandy bits.  We arrived at the village complete with tourists shops and yes, even more shops and even more tourists.  We hiked all the way to the top to explore the gravity-defying abbey and the surrounding bay – I felt like a seagull, sailing along an endless swirl of sand and sea, the curvature carved from the unrelenting shift of the ocean.  

Then it began to rain, actually it was more like a deluge. We picked our way down the stone steps that soon turned into water falls.  We stopped off for a welcome chocolat chaud, and thankfully, the storm subsided and sun burst through as if to say – “I was only joking.” 😎  Being from the Pacific Northwest, we had brought our Gore-Tex that got a workout that afternoon.  

After hiking six or so miles, we rested up and then went down for dinner at the hotel; unless you were staying at the village in St. Michel there were few options this time of year.  We entertained ourselves watching a Korean tour group navigate their way through a french meal.  

The following day, we made our way down the Atlantic coast to La Rochelle and through the Bordeaux region. We arrived at our La Maison to find our solar panels completely installed and functioning along with a battery backup that added to the array of electronics being added to our “garage.”  We are gradually divesting ourselves from the grid which will drastically reduce our electrical bills and we will also be less of a burden to the grid.  Not to mention that we are also reducing our carbon footprint.

It was starting to feel more like autumn as the temperature finally started to recede along with the bugs.  Thanksgiving was right around the corner and I had ordered Libby’s pumpkin off the “MyAmericanMarket” site so we could have a taste of home during the feast.  Our guests included a mix of American, French, English, Irish and a New Zealander.  

It was great to break out the good silverware and china to celebrate.  What we didn’t anticipate was the size of the turkey that we ordered from a butcher (boucherie) that came in at a whopping 23 pounds.  We were barely able to get it on the barbecue! We gathered around the charcuterie board that consisted of various forms of Foie Gras, hams and of course cheese.  I had gotten a reasonably priced 1990 Sauternes, a lovely golden yellow dessert wine that enhanced the glow of the season; it was a hit and wound up being consumed before the evening was done.  

Around 4:00 as we were indulging in Bob’s famous cheesecake and a traditional American Pumpkin Pie when the power went down.  This drama was caused by one of the farmers running his tractor into a power pole in his field.  The catastrophe occured just down the road from us so we could witness the carnage first hand.  

As the light was fading, and though the candles were blazing around the house, we were running out of light sources and ideas on how to preserve the leftovers.  We bid farewell to our guests and sealed up the remainder of our rather large feast, and transported it to the back terrace where it would stay adequately chilled overnight.  This is a time we were thankful for the chilly season and yes – our new wood stove saved us from freezing …so much to be thankful for despite the setback🙏

While the estimate was that the power was supposed to be back on by 10:00 p.m. (sure…), our neighbor advised us that EDF had packed up for the night and would be back the next morning, basically stranding our neighborhood 🫣

I was rather shocked; in America the power companies are on 24/7.  

🤷‍♀️🤷‍♀️🤷‍♀️🤷‍♀️🤷‍♀️

The power finally came back on at 1:00ish the next day; we hailed its arrival reminding ourselves how dependent we are on electricity, that we had done our fair share of roughing it so not all is lost, and thankful all our frozen food hadn’t melted. Our neighbor assured us that this was an exceptional accident and otherwise the grid is pretty stable.

With our visas being processed to include the requisite appointment for fingerprinting and signature, we decided it would be prudent to stay local for Christmas this year.  We have planned to spend the holiday in the fortress city of Carcassone…more to come on that adventure as we approach 2024! 

Now…for a French moment:

Yes, they celebrate Halloween in France!

Getting our Steampunk vibe on!

November 11, 2023 Veteran’s Day – a Special Tribute

Posted on Posted in France, France, French, Photography, The French LifeTagged , , , , , , , , , , , 2 Comments

I’ve decided to dedicate a post to Veteran’s Day as our autumn trip to Normandy certainly made for an appropriate segue.  In France and Great Britain, November 11th is heralded as Armistice Day including a moment of silence at 11:00 a.m. followed by ceremonies across the country to commemorate those who fell during WW I and II.

We motored by way of Tours to Bayeaux which is a lovely town with a stunning cathedral not far from the beaches of Normandy; we had a superb lunch in the town center, spending time pondering how much of this village was ravaged during the war.  Thankfully, the cathedral had managed to survive, but we saw old buildings fused to new construction; you can always tell the difference despite the surprisingly authentic materials used here for new builds. 

Bayeux Cathedral
Canals in Bayeux

Driving through the Norman countryside we encountered classic French farms with cows, sheep and plowed fields; lovely hedgerows where so many skirmishes were staged during the war now housed birds and hedgehogs going about their daily business.  The architecture of Normandy is tall and rather boxy with roofs made of slate.  There is a distinct absence of the channel terracotta roofing tiles and pigeonniers so common to the south of France.  Though Colombage homes (the architecture of our house) are popular in this area we didn’t see much which was surprising; I suspect they are further north.

All around us there was peace and calm, much like Pearl Harbor and Gettysburg so you have to summon the ghosts to get clarity on the carnage; the pain, the sacrifice…the horror.  

Upon reflection, in 2022 and into 2023, we have visited many significant war memorials ranging from Pearl Harbor, Gettysburg, Arlington Cemetery, the Washington DC War Memorials and now Normandy, France.  Oh…and let’s not forget Window Rock, AZ, home of the Navajo Code Talker Memorial; they were a significant force in winning the war in the Pacific.  

Having made these efforts to explore such significant history, we have now truly internalized and echo the sentiment that “Freedom is not Free.” 

Navajo Code Talker Memorial
Joint Base Pearl Harbor – Hickham
April 27 – The Sea Remembers its Own
Lest we forget #pearlharbor #navajocodetalkers

Upon our arrival to the seaside, we found that Omaha beach and the surrounding cities are atypical coastal towns that, aside from the architecture, reminds me a lot of the Oregon coast with children playing on the beach like they would anywhere else. I enjoyed a mostly solitary stroll along the boardwalk, enjoying the sea breezes, the sway of the ocean and pondering the newer-build oceanfront villas. 

The American Cemetery turned out to be pretty busy, and I was surprised at how many families along with their school-age children were there; it turns out they were on school holiday – one of the many that French children enjoy!  Being off-season it was both surprising and comforting to see so many people from different nationalities attending.  It was endearing watching the French families educating their children on the history of this place and pointing to the signs to be quiet and reverent; France was after all front and center during the war. 

The Fallen
The Wall of the Missing

The solidarity here is palpable as you overlook the sea of crosses that seem as though they were placed just yesterday; pristine white as if they are lovingly polished on a daily basis. As we were later in the day we witnessed the lowering and folding of the flags, followed by taps which – as always – causes you to internalize the grief of the profound sacrifices made during D-Day and the ensuing months.  As my father was a WWII vet (the Pacific) I always have to fight the tears.  

Taps

Most of the cemetery is roped off, but you are allowed a smaller section to wander through the maze of tombstones, reflecting on these warriors, some who couldn’t even be identified; we asked ourselves – were they obliterated by a bomb?  Argh.  Though it would have proven too burdensome to ship so many remains back to America, over the decades most of these soldiers will be forgotten, yet, their legacy will remain for generations to come.  

American Cemetery – Normandy Beach

The next day proved to be sunny and milder, but windy as we ventured to Gold Beach where the British and Canadian forces teamed up as part of Operation Overlord.   They had constructed the “Mulberry B Artificial Harbor”  just offshore that included “floating bridges” for the transport of vehicles and materials needed for the incursion.  The remnants of the harbor are still visible during low tide. This operation was an astounding achievement of engenuity that is difficult to wrap your head around.  And when you think that they didn’t have the resources that are available today, you can only marvel at the genius on display.  It turned out to be a massive success, but not without a horrendous loss of life.  

https://www.dday-overlord.com/en/media-library/photos/gold-beach/mulberry-b

We wandered around the beach peeking into the rusted remains of the bridges then headed to the village for a chocolat chaud.

It should be noted that all along this region of Normandy there are American, French, British and Canadian flags flown in solidarity; it gave me more comfort than the hot chocolate! 

Sculptures at Gold Beach

Remnants of the Mulberries

Our next stop was the Bayeux Commonwealth Cemetery – equally, if not more heartbreaking, than the American one because you are not overwhelmed by the scale but by the intimacy. Due to the proximity to England I’m sure the British families wanted the bodies of their fallen to come home for a proper burial, but for those who remained the cemetery has proven to be a touching memorial that perhaps the families felt would give their beloved relatives an enduring legacy. 

The memorial feels more like an English garden with roses still blooming around the headstones; they show the regiment with its accompanying symbol pain-stakingly carved into it followed by…this is the crippler…the name and age of the deceased.  We saw several that were 19 or 20 years-old, some headstones fused to one another as they had died together.  In addition to the British and Canadian graves, we saw Polish, Jewish, Arabic and one section dedicated to German soldiers.  Like the American Cemetery, there were those that could not be identified. 

Many of them had June 6th inscribed on them, then you would see post D-Day dates that stagger through August 1944; you really get a sense of the incursion beyond the initial launch of Operation Overlord.  

Bayeux Commonwealth Cemetery

Subconsciously we knew that the majority that died were so young, but this memorial made it visceral.

As it is a Commonwealth Memorial I suspect it isn’t as frequented as the American Cemetery, but I encourage anyone who takes the time to come to this region of France to spend some time here as it’s in Bayeux. There is a lot to process here – it is a profound experience that you will not soon forget.

Thankfully we have “Saving Private Ryan” and the “Band of Brothers” along with a long stream of war movies to help us get a real sense of what it must have been like.  

On a more recent note, I was curious as to why there was a fair amount of indictment against the movie “Lone Survivor” about Marcus Luttrell and the failed Seal Team mission in Afghanistan to hunt down a notorious Taliban leader; it seemed as though some viewers could not suspend their disbelief at the validity of the story and that it was just a Hollywood propaganda movie. I once had the privilege of working for an ex-Navy Seal who had been in covert ops (can’t imagine what his duty was!).  Despite his level of intensity, I found I could have very grounded conversations with him.  I had asked him about the movie and the response from IMDB, he smirked and let me know yes – it’s all true; most people cannot imagine that anyone would make that level of sacrifice.  He also went on about how he couldn’t understand why so many incredibly fit recruits dropped out of Seal training; about how others who may not appear resilient but are incredibly so.  What is the secret sauce?

I wish I knew the answer to his question, but I do know that those that have gone through extreme levels of adversity, as I have found in much of the refugee communities I have dealt with, have cultivated a level of resiliency and humility that is lacking in so many western societies today.  

With all our modernization and freedoms, we have become complacent in so many ways, and perhaps we need better immersion into the adverse aspects of life to build the resiliency and humility of future generations.  Especially after witnessing French parents actively teaching their children the significance of the seemingly endless sea of crosses that fanned out before them; that the beaches of Normandy weren’t always about bucolic summer breezes and building castles in the sand. 

All the memorials we have visited were a sobering experience: If it weren’t for these brave souls making the ultimate sacrifice, I wouldn’t be enjoying the privileges I do now; the memorials are truly inspiring and should not be left to a mere documentary on Netflix.

They leave you with a profound sense that war is truly hell, but sadly we never really seem to learn the lesson. #neverforget 

September 2023 – Our First Summer in France

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Avoir à l’été

Where did the summer go?  We celebrated the 4th of July on the 8th😂. Granted it seems like eons ago but it is part of summer yes? It was hot but we still had a good turn out.  Some of the food was a bit of a novelty to some of our non-American friends but we had fun all the same.

4th (8th) of July Celebration

We kept hearing the stories of the horrific heat waves last year – the temperatures nearing 110 degrees Fahrenheit for weeks.  This year, while we have had some hot periods in the 90’s, we experienced a contradiction of cool weather during July, literally digging out our fleeces and being relegated to indoor projects as we navigated several days of passing showers.  

But never fear, we also had the Tour de France that we were able to watch live on Peacock!!! In the U.S. we would have had to record it and watch it in the evenings.  

The cool weather soon broke and we were blessed with glorious days in the 70’s – sometimes breaching the 80’s that made for some pleasant bike rides through the countryside.  We ventured one day, albeit windy, to Issigeac (about 20km from our house and yet another “beaux village.”) We wound up lunching near the medieval church, leaving our bikes in the shade and security of its ancient entrance – they seemed quite content there actually.  

Bob’s brother and sister-in-law came for a short visit on their way to meet up with their kids just outside of Paris.  We spent a nice day catching up and thankfully the weather was sunny and pleasant; I had been worried it might be too hot and we didn’t have the air conditioning installed yet; those projects were moved to September due to supply chain issues (no surprise there really), so we are praying that we didn’t get hit with too much extreme heat between now and then.  We have also been on the hunt for landscaping help with the pool area as it is reminiscent of Death Valley with the clay starting to crack from the summer heat.  At least the pool surround is graveled and we typically do our laps in the late afternoon heat; we haven’t yet figured out the “lounging” bit but suspect we’ll get there at some point.  

Now that he have entered the dog days of summer, the sunflowers have begun to hang their heads as if in a state of despair, their beautiful petals shriveled beyond repair.   I didn’t record this event as it was too much to bear.

Many of the shops close down for most of August – some with door signage indicating their return sometime in September. This doesn’t apply to the heavily touristed spots that brace themselves for the onslaught of vacationers from the north; the French, Dutch and English swarm this area with their campers, tents (yes – lots of camp sites – many hosted by chateaus) and of course vacation rentals. 

We ventured to a few brocantes, at this juncture to get some ideas of what we can eventually collect for the garden as they have lovely old urns and vases on display.  

The Brocante in Monflanquin #beauxvillage

The summer festivals are now in full swing and we have been either hosting dinners or being invited to an evening soirée here and there. We have been “collecting” the occasional American(s) we meet by chance or through our network.  Interestingly, there is a prevailing theme of “isolation” when engaging them.  Granted, there are plenty of British in the area, but they tend to self-segregate so it’s not the same bonding experience as being with a fellow American, as what one of my friends said “especially west coast Americans!” We also gravitate towards the familiar as a form of comfort.

One evening we attended a Spanish-themed festival hosted by our local commune of Doudrac.  The commune is a pleasant walk from our house and we were also meeting some of our English-speaking neighbors there and we naturally segregated to our own English-speaking table.  This event was complete with huge plates of paella, bread (of course), sangria and bottles of wine. There was a stage set with a band so we were tucked in for an interesting experience, surrounded by our French neighbors who must have come for miles – I think there were around 100 people attending the festival – the essence of the local farming community. It was a gorgeous night and the constellations were on full display.

The band began to strike up their tunes, they played some English ballads, but most were in French and then they switched to some hybrid-Franco American-country western tunes at which time the dance area became flooded with line dancers!  Well this really got the party going, and the two-man band started to get pretty loud, but just as they were entering the peak of one of their songs, the power went out and we all sat in absolute darkness, until the phones started illuminating the picnic tables and the conversations became animated.  Luckily the power came back on at which time the lead singer decided to take the sound up a few notches, his opening gambit was so loud we almost fell over in our seats.  I even saw people at the neighboring tables jump at his unexpected tsunami-level voice.  Unfortunately,  a few of us got such a case of the giggles we had tears streaming down our faces and were hoping we weren’t embarrassing ourselves.  

All in all it was a lovely evening and we walked home around midnight in the absolute darkness of the countryside, the band fading as we paused and marveled at the starry sky, then crashed for the evening.  

Now that some interesting movies have come out, we decided it was time to experience a French cinema; we have gone to the theater twice now, as they host screenings in their original English format with French subtitles (VOST = version original with subtitles).  This works out great for us and we caught the new Indiana Jones movie as well as Oppenheimer.  As far as the concession stands go, the popcorn here isn’t buttered but still tastes fine with just salt, and they carry many of the American chocolate bars, licorice etc. if you are in the mood for a bit of nostalgia.  

One of my new American friends invited me to an outdoor ballet.  It was a Spanish-them production staged by one of France’s premier choreographers, set at the stunning Chateau de Biron.  Overlooking that valley, as so many here are, this stately structure houses art and performances throughout much of the year.  The open air theater is especially lovely as you are graced by red sunsets that sweep across the valley that gradually fades into a starry sky, with only the dim lights of the area communes reminding us that it’s not altogether primitive despite your surroundings suggesting such.  

As the stars emerged, the dancers swayed to Ravel’s Bolero, crowned by the Big Dipper that dominated the night sky. It was surprisingly cold and windy, eventually requiring three layers!  This was apparently due to the elevation and trajectory of the weather inherent to the chateau…it was reminiscent of being on the Oregon coast in the middle of summer. We endured the cold, refraining from pronouncing too many expletives and in wonderment of how the women wearing open-toed shoes were faring.  All in all it was a lovely experience and only a fifteen minute drive from our house so we are eager to attend more events.  

Chateau de Biron (note not my image – I don’t own a drone)

As the heat of August began to reign over the region we were once again slammed with some pretty spectacular thunderstorms, mostly in the middle of the night, unfortunately leaving us somewhat sleep deprived; one storm cut the power and I got another trial-by-fire experience getting our electricity back up; turns out only a few houses in the area were affected and fortunately the process turned out to be pretty simple…after I finished torturing the polite operator with my Franglish  she transferred me to someone who had suitable enough English and could help me reboot our “Linky” system.  I am now triumphant in the knowledge I can get our systems back online averting an impending disaster like soupy ice cream.  

During the August weather chaos the skies cleared up enough for us to witness the Perseid Meteor shower; we emerged at 2:00 a.m. and made our way  to the poolside where we had the best view from our loungers.  While we sat in awe of the Milky Way watching the meteors streak by, we heard some rather aggressive rustling in the nearby hedge. Bob went to investigate with his flashlight and whatever it was certainly wasn’t going to be deterred.  It started to freak me out, though if it was a wild boar it would have been louder. Then I saw the shadow of something coming towards me, I flashed my light on it and it turned around in a bit of scurrying waddle back to the shrubbery – we were being investigated by a hedgehog!  I guess he had satisfied his curiosity and remained quite during the rest of the light show – we wound up counting up to 35 meteors in all before retiring to the security of the house. 

Upon reflection, during July into August of last year during our RV trip, we were traveling from Michigan to Chicago then onto Canada, Niagara and then the Maritimes.  By mid-August we were heading  down the Eastern Seaboard to the Gulf including Louisiana – which this year was being hit by a horrific heat wave.  While the heat was not intense last year, it was incredibly humid, and we were relieved when we found our way back into the beloved high desert of New Mexico with its arid dark skies and turquoise dreams.  We had been so fortunate with the weather and glad to have seen what we have; it would have been almost impossible to have done it this year with the wildfires and heat waves that have been pounding North America.

We had also by this time also scheduled our Visa appointment in San Francisco.  

I will take a pause here to talk about the devastating fires in Maui as not only have I had the opportunity to spend some fabulous vacations there (including infrared photography work), my father also wrote about the famous banyan tree in Lahaina in his letters to my grandmother while he was stationed in the islands during WWII.  He also spoke of its immense nature during our conversations when we talked about the islands and my visits there, and other adventures with his Navy buddies such as finding a road through the sugar cane fields that led to a “secret beach.”  He witnessed much of wild Hawaii before tourists began invading this place that truly defines paradise.  Being immersed in all its purity off-set much of the trauma he experienced during the War in the Pacific.  I pray for the people of Maui as it was a human and cultural loss that in a sense will never be completely restored; too much history has turned to ashes.  

Infrared Image of the Famous Banyan Tree in Lahaina, Hawaii

Magnificent

Thankfully, we are now winding down much of the “integration drama” we have been navigating since our arrival; I have finally gotten enrolled into the French healthcare system, though my number is in my maiden name (which is a thing I continue to encounter here).   We got inexpensive “top-up” insurance that gives us 100% coverage as we are covered up to 70%  for the next five years and need to pay for the remaining 30%.  In comparison to the US, it’s inexpensive here and we are shocked at how low the prescription costs are.  So we are now covered from the medical side which is a welcome relief!

We have completed our Visa appointment in Bordeaux to wrap up the renewal and receive our Carte de Sejour (extending our long-stay Visa).  We are now beginning to feel more “native.”  My next challenge is to get my driver’s license which is no small feat even if you speak French.  It will be a champagne-popping event when I pass my final exam.  

Navigating the French Systems

We spent our anniversary at the same restaurant we dined at when we were here nearly two years ago on our reconnaissance trip; the Michelin star La Belle Etoile in the ever-stunning La Roque Gageac.  When I think back to that time, winding down our careers and then traveling across US and Canada, it’s been quite an epic adventure.  I am glad for the experience, but am equally content to be stationary in our lovely home, putting down the roots of gratitude in the fertile soil of Beausejour.  

The ever-stunning La Rogue-Gageac

I have kept this image from outside the restaurant from our first trip on my iPad as wallpaper; as a visualization and reminder of a dream that has now come to fruition.  Reflecting back on the journey, it really has been a heck of a thing.  

Sunrise on the Dordogne

All of this is fitting closure as our first summer winds down, the fields around us are now plowed and tidied up, sparing us the view of depressed sunflowers, and readying the soil for the coming year. 

Post-decapitation of the sunflower fields

Stay tuned as the next few months bring the upgrades to our property, including air conditioning, solar and our rainwater tank. 

The greenhouse is coming together and I will be attempting a “winter garden.”

Our fellow Americans, Sarah and Brian Addley, helping with the greenhouse.

We will also be off on an autumn trip to explore the fall colors of France and visit the legendary beaches of Normandy.   

And now for a French moment 

View from the dechetterie (aka: garbage and recycling center in our commune)

May 8 – July 4th Part Trois of our French integration con’t

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We arrived home from our walkabout through Italy to a warehouse of boxes stored in the gite and busied ourselves unveiling an old life and melding it into the new one.  While I had ideas of where to put things, it mostly fell into place organically as proportions and ideas are malleable and it was fun to play around with different concepts.  

Arghhhh
Now that’s much better!

Then spring brought the thunderstorms consisting windy vortexes, lightning and occasional hail; one time a small river developed  at the end of our property that soon dissipated into the neighbor’s farm.  It was good to know where our property would potentially flood — thankfully that would be at the end of the property where it slopes into the neighboring field.  

Pretty…but there is lightning in those clouds

Then suddenly it felt as though summer had  arrived with the weather warming to near 80 degrees (25 c).  Like Oregon, the mornings are cool, waking up to occasional mist covering the fields and valleys, barely muffling the birds who for now, wake us up gently with their morning ritual.  

We have spent time with our new neighbors who live walking distance from us; a good walk though as there are acres between us and them.  It has been invigorating getting to know these new friends and neighbors in this rather fantastical “hood.”

This included attending a Mad Hatter Party that included a lot of sugar (really good muffins and cake), and trying our hand at archery.  Though I don’t have a day job I wouldn’t quit it to pursue a career as an archer.  

We had the opportunity to visit a friend from Portland who was hiking the Camino de Santiago that was commencing in France then meandering into Spain. She was passing through Armignanc (home to the lovely, ancient brandy) and as she was within driving distance, we decided to take a trip down her way to catch up.  She and her colleague had already done 500 of the 1000 miles of the trip!  After a short but pleasant visit we bid farewell, leaving them with protein bars and electrolyte gels that they gratefully needed when they were caught short without an evening meal.  

Bob’s sister and brother-in-law were set to arrive at the end of June, so we got busy again unpacking, sorting, painting, decorating – trying to make the gite habitable and figuring out where to put all our “stuff.”  

When we needed a break, the terrace became an extension of our living room where we could flop in the Adirondack chairs (we brought with us!) with our tea and listen to the sounds of nature, and if the wind picked up, our favorite chimes blessed us with their soothing tune. 

The mornings are particularly lovely.  

Summer mornings on the terrace

Thankfully, Bob got his “CPAM” and is now enrolled in the French healthcare system.  I, on the other hand, keep getting requests for information including a new copy of my passport since the one they have is unreadable.  It’s not really clear why they made so many copies of it and how it got so mangled,  but I bite my tongue and send what they need to complete my file.  All of this is done manually and by snail mail.  As they say on Mandalore “this is the way.” 

During all this I acquired a lovely e-bike in anticipation of cycling the quiet backroads of our hood.  I’m looking forward to getting back into cycling shape and taking some packed lunches to the chateaus in the area.  

Then the pool arrived.  This brought out our French neighbors from across the road and we had a chance to do some fractured-french-bonding as they speak no English.  It’s quite something watching the pool land in our yard without taking out the power lines.  Within a week they were to dig the hole and fit the pool.  Well…this will be interesting to say the least.  

A few days later, the “piscine” workers arrived with a digger, and unfortunately it rained for the three days they were excavating the area.  I use the term excavate because there were decades of construction and roofing materials (tiles) from the gite that they had to dig through. Through the thunder, lightning and at some times torrential rain, the pool was installed.  They did manage to level out where the garden was to go but the rains were followed by high, dry temperatures turning the mud into cement.  We will compost heavily and when the rains return (and we will probably have some passing showers over the summer) we will be able to cultivate the garden for next year. 

How it’s done in France

Otherwise we will be patient and figure out how to deal with the rather large display of tire tracks that have been sculpted into the lawn. 

While all this hustling was happening, in a blink of an eye the sunflowers burst into bloom!  We are surrounded on three sides and feel as though we are being spied on as their smiling personas keep a steady and unrelenting vigil over the fields.   

Happy faces!!

Bob’s sister Kathryn, and her husband Bruce arrived just as the weather was warming up.   In fact, the weather swung to the other end of the extreme bringing in a high pressure system of heat that eclipsed 90 degrees then fell back into the 70’s when they left!  Thankfully they were not rained out and we had a lovely time cruising the countryside and spending an afternoon in Bergerac.  Otherwise they decided to hang out with us and work on projects for which we are eternally thankful!!

We bid them a fond farewell, looking forward to another visit when they can do some actual lounging around the pool. 

The next day a pool technician arrived to treat the water and get the filter working.  The piscine was now ready for use!  While the landscape is graveled in a rough and ready sort of way (we have to wait a year to do any credible landscaping as the surrounding earth needs to settle), we can still get some serious laps in.  

Then, on a beautiful day with the temperatures in the 70’s we set out on a bike ride through the quiet back roads of Beausejour, cycling by fields of barley, beans and sunflowers, surrounded by the ubiquitous French stone farmhouses and crumbling structures smothered in vines that once held the bounty of a former era,  making one feel like you were in a different time and place.  I felt as though I was gliding along a slipstream; traveling through the ether of ancient lands and unerring traditions, disturbed only by the occasional modern mechanizations of a passing voiture (car).  Not since I lived in Northeastern Washington State as a kid have I been surrounded by this level of beauty and solitude.  I am now a thief of time, the flower-sentinels standing ready to defend those rarified moments as I recapture what was once lost to me.  

Lots of sunflowers
Castillones and its cool tower

And what did we do when we came back from the bike ride??? 

And if you’re too busy to get to the boulangerie in time, well never fear!

The French baguette – a national treasure

Mar 1 – April 25 2023 Beausejour – Part Two of our French Integration

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It’s early March and the weather is cold…as in biting cold, but it is clear with a layer of frost dusting the nearby fields.  I take a moment to survey my surroundings, but my revelry is suddenly interrupted as I find myself running frantically out to the road to flag down the Darty (appliance store)  delivery truck.  They are here to deliver our new washer, dryer, freezer and small appliances;  apparently our home is a bit difficult to find even when they have the address plugged into the GPS…seems I don’t have to worry too much about being stalked in this part of the world.  I have now learned, through trial and error, to add the GPS coordinates in addition to the address in the delivery instructions, otherwise I get somewhat frantic calls in French from the drivers who apologize for their poor English (while I apologize… tres desole…sorry for my poor French). I also went as far as putting a sign on the front door to leave the packages in our absence (in French of course) –  unlike the delivery methods used in America where the UPS or Amazon truck shows up and delivers your items on the front porch sans your presence, France seems to have a love for a vast variety of delivery services who require signatures upon arrival. This limits my options of being out and about as they don’t always commit to a time or day, and if they do, they don’t always abide by that commitment (we had been warned about the “French way of doing things” and they are living up to their reputation).  So this “hack” of leaving a sign turned out to be the biz, and serves as permission to just leave any packages on the terrace (assuming they can find the place).  The one company that has demonstrated reliability is Ikea, who definitely gives you a date and a window which works out well assuming they can even find our house. I also keep the GPS coordinates handy to text the drivers back once we politely conclude at the end of the conversation we can’t understand one another:  Je text les coordonnées GPS etc. 

Ahh…but we have finally arrived to Beauséjour – meaning “beautiful stay” and the road sign even confirms that we are indeed in a special part of the world.  On the day we were scheduled to sign off on the house we did a “walk through” with our realtor and the previous owner.   We learned some interesting stories about the history:   For insurance purposes we had stated the structures were built in the early 1800’s as there weren’t any official records going back before the 1900’s.  Urban legend has it that the fleur-de-lis and shield carved on both sides of the rather large fireplace was placed there during the stay of King Francois the 1st back in the early 1500’s – if this is true (since the symbols depict royalty) that would indicate that the house was built in the 15th century and around 400 hundred years old! 

Though we are not even close to being a grand chateau (technically meaning castle) by any means, in rural France a pigeonnier is a sign of wealth along with the scalloping accents on the side of the house.

Pigeons!
Subtle scalloping on the side of the house

We were also advised that the surrounding farmland used to belong to this particular maison; so while the house itself has similar proportions to our home in Portland, due to the pigeonnier and the accompanying symbology, it used to belong to wealthy landowners.  

The ancient Colombage timbers that sustain the structures have since been reinforced without losing any of the original character and are treated for termites. We have also found our recent furniture purchases from the “Brocantes” (antique market furniture and so much fun to shop at those!) to be a bit wobbly as the floors aren’t exactly level in some places. Add to that the flaws that come from our “new purchases” and we find ourselves retrofitting to give our surfaces a bit of stability.  The china cabinet is a great size as most we’ve seen have been quite large. The rustic workbenches are popular and this one was actually refinished and is a perfect addition to our entryway!

French Country!

I am now also being indoctrinated to the idea of radiators and how this whole system works. The boiler is down the “cellar” along with a large community of spider webs.  It is here we have also deposited the extra freezer and washer; we are on a septic system (known as a fosse here), and the washer was built to drain from the cellar to the septic.  Yes we do have to walk around the side of the house but we are, after all, in the country in a several-hundred-year-old maison so you have to make some concessions.  We will eventually be upgrading to solar and split air conditioning units in anticipation of the long warm summers – with climate change we are told the temperatures are on the rise and will also reduce our personal drag on the grid.

We have a little under an acre of land and Bob was chomping at the bit for a rider mower, also known as a “tandeuse.” Yes, we are back to the gardening frenzy we’re so fond of and we have plenty of work to do.  Unfortunately, our gardening tools are in the shipping container that isn’t scheduled to arrive until mid April, so off we go to “Jardiland” (jardin is garden in French so do the math) to pick up a few odds and ends to tide us over.  Bob managed to snag a nice mower that was soon delivered and he disappeared into the ether of gardening bliss, trolling the property from the lofty heights of his new toy while cursing the interminable dandelions.  

I have been busy painting and kitting out our new utility room; there isn’t much in the way of storage in the main house so I took one of the bedrooms (there are four and just the two of us – much like our house in Portland) and am designing a laundry/pantry/general storage room.  I soon discovered (as many have here), that paint is quite expensive for whatever reason and the mat colors aren’t up to much when it comes to coverage.  So while we are eating on the cheap because the markets and general cost-of-living are just so insanely good here, we get dinged in other departments.  

The dryer we bought does not require venting (it collects the condensation in a plastic basin that you discard down the drain) so you can plug it in anywhere – a clever euro design. We also ordered IKEA units to complete the storage area; you can always joke about IKEA but the storage units we ordered are of good quality.  And an extra refrigerator because the one we have is pretty dang small. 

Voila!  A few more touch ups and additions and we will be in laundry and storage domestic bliss.  I love getting new appliances as the ones we divested prior to leaving Portland were getting a bit worn anyway.  

As spring is starting to roll in, we have experienced some pretty epic thunderstorms – I mean thunder, lightning, wrath-of-god type stuff – thankfully the shutters are really effective for keeping the rain at bay; I mean it gets really horizontal and blows a gale.  But France, like so much of the rest of the world, really needs rain and we are glad for it when it arrives.  The trees are starting to leaf out and we are seeing blossoms in the garden.  And bees, we are surrounded by them and they are starting to inhabit the mason bee houses we bought. When we are not outside listening to the music of nature we are enjoying our new hi-speed fiber connection; it’s amazing that they have run these systems out into the rural communities.  We are starting to feel more grounded and can crash on our (temporary) sofa and watch our favorite shows after a long day working on the property = spoiled.  

We are on the 45th parallel so we see many of the same plants as you find in Portland.  Our garden is large and the prior owners were British and planted a cornucopia of plants that are unfortunately being invaded by weeds; luckily we are retired, but even with that notion the tasks ahead of us seem a bit overwhelming. 

When we take a break around noon, with our tea on the terrace, the birds and bees are performing their orchestral obligations and we can hear the bells toll from the nearby church of our local commune.  It is times like these that we look out of our property into the vast farmlands and says yes – Beauséjour!! 

View from the kitchen window

In rural France we are oblivious to the rioting in Paris sparked by new legislation to the raise in pension age to 64…we are so far removed and frankly had enough conflict in Portland a few years back.  Experiencing this level of peace and quiet is like developing new senses.  

Of course, it’s not all bliss; as we are now officially grounded with a permanent address, we are now receiving  mail at our new place.  I have a mail forwarding service in the States and we had to have a few packets of important tax docs sent to us.  The La Poste lady (very cheery as well) shows up one day with one of our packets and asks for 9 euros.  We are a bit mystified, and we come to find out that “registered” mail, or what they perceive as “registered mail” is subject to additional fees.  So we had to dig up 9 euros in change and if you don’t have exact change she will take what you have, then leave what is owed in your mailbox.  Fortunately this hasn’t happened with any other mail🙄

Then…our French HSBC banking cards finally arrived (after five months!) and we had to drive to Bordeaux to gather them only to find out that we didn’t have the correct PIN codes.  Long story, but they have PIN codes for online purchases, for your app and for your credit card and you can’t change them.  Our sister-in-law in Seattle took time out of her busy day to convey the information we needed…while I was told all the information would be sent to Bordeaux, they sent the PIN codes to the address in Seattle. C’est la vie accompanied by a shrug – it’s France.  This is the contrasting nature of the place we live in. So now we have two bank accounts which is not a bad thing considering the state of the banking business overall – due to the dual taxation and reporting laws, some Americans have difficulty getting a single account set up when they arrive here.  And though we had our BNP Paribas cards we didn’t get our checkbook for another month and that wasn’t until we checked in and found out they hadn’t gotten around to “processing it yet.”

We are also still grappling with getting into the healthcare system; they must have misplaced Bob’s birth certificate (during the appointment we specifically handed it to them of which they made a copy) yet like our banking process, they are requesting it once again – via snail mail.  Considering the delicate nature of a birth certificate we are opting to drive to the office in Perigueux to  (once again) present both the original and translated version so they can process the file…sigh.  They did confirm they received the document but then I received a letter stating they needed information for my file that I already gave them – as they say in Mandalorian “it is the way.” The hotline did confirm I do have a number and we are finishing up the processing on Bob’s number. Soon we will have a “Carte de Vitale,” and will be in the French healthcare system!

But….of course…there’s more!  I have been scheduled for my Visa appointment to get my official Carte de Sejour (official long stay Visa card), but Bob hasn’t received his yet.  Fortunately they have an English-language help line – even with that the French bureaucracy is not for the faint of heart. Bon courage – we will get through all of this in the next few months.  

In France the 80/20 rule is definitely in full swing:  Americans relocating here should not come with lofty expectations on when things are due to arrive or be processed – this is true 80% of the time. We are surprised when something arrives when scheduled such as Ikea, or when our Orange hi-speed internet was installed and has been working like a charm – the exception rather than the rule!  No American entitlements here!  

Quirks aside, what I do find impressive is being able to recycle everything here; just down the road we have a garbage and recycling center that we visit a few times a week to drop off standard stuff.  For batteries, light bulbs, ink cartridges etc. we take those when we go shopping at one of the bigger cities (Bergerac or Villeneuve-sur-Lot) and they have them in the shopping centers.  For bigger drop offs we go to the local “dechetterie” and deposit cardboard (for all the new stuff we have been acquiring), yard waste etc.  The French love bureaucracy and it spills over into their love for the environment; it’s incredibly impressive. 

I continue to do painting to freshen up areas of the house so when the furniture arrives we won’t have to move it for a while. The upstairs floors were gasping for some TLC and I stained and waxed one of the bedrooms so again – when the furniture eventually arrives it can have a stationary home. They came out beautiful!

Our container has finally arrived!!!! As always seems to be our luck it will be unloaded the day before we leave for our vacation so it will be “a dump and run.” This will be a story for another day as we are off to Venice by way of the (Cote d’Azure) French Riviera😍🍝🍷 for a much needed break from our “transition challenges.”  Stay turned for updates on our European road trip!

Feb 2023 – Ode to Prats du Perigord, Bonjour Nouvelle Maison 

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Every morning at 7 a.m. the church bells ring down in the village of Prats du Perigord, the echoes are permeable as the sky is clear and frost grips the land, remaining polar until the sun rises to loosen the ribbons of sleep.  Then formations emerge through the orange and blue, awaking the kaleidoscope of day.  

It’s February but It feels more like spring, more like what March would feel like in my former city of Portland, Oregon.  There is no rain in sight for the coming days.   The garden (jardin) centers are coming alive and the locals are even threatening to cut the grass.  It is still technically winter but no one has apparently informed the inhabitants of Southwest France; except for those who still had their Christmas decorations up until the end of January.  

Here we remain unconcerned about the protests in Paris, the insistence that raising the retirement age to 64 is certainly the end of civilization as we know it, and many of the French insist they will be too old to enjoy their golden years.  France has the lowest retirement age in all of Europe, and they enjoy some of the best systems such as their healthcare, but it certainly doesn’t come for free.  Paris has been in a gridlock for weeks now as the unions take to the streets and halt services such as le metro (Mon dieu!!).

One of the highlights of our continuing integration is that we finally figured out how to use the car wash – this was accomplished by spying on the local population:  Unlike the system in the US where you pay and then drive through, here, you drive up to the wash itself, make sure you are secure against “bump ” that triggers the green light, exit your car and the pay at the kiosk.  We were wondering why people were lounging around the waiting area while their car was being washed.  The system is rather clever as the mechanism runs back and forth over your car while it remains stationary.  No more fun of driving through!  We now have a clean car💖

We decided it was time for another side trip to visit the local sites – this time we ventured to the medevial city of Belvès, spending the afternoon wandering around and then settling in for a cup of coffee.  Much is still closed up and we are wait in great anticipation when the cafe and shop owners start to open up and their wares spill out into the streets.  

Meandering the ancient streets of Belvès

As we forge new relationships, we found ourselves spending a post-Valentines Day brunch at our friend’s lovely country house (once again),  indulging in her local dishes, learning the French way of dining and surveying the garden with ideas for the impending spring.   

We continue our daily french language studies complemented by a weekly visit to Monpazier (which we discovered was part of the set of Ridley Scott’s “The Last Duel” and is now a set for a french film) for a more interactive lesson.  We have cultivated some new acquaintances and are becoming a local at a cafe that sports a fair amount of American retro art deco-like posters that makes me feel right at home. 

Authentic Movie Set in Monpazier
Dirt and All!

We hadn’t ventured much into the fast food arena here and then much to my horror: Krispy Kreme and Popeye’s announced they will be opening up their fast food joints here in France.  I was never a fan of Kristy Kreme, and well the patisseries are to die for here😍 so do the math!  Yet, McDonald’s is seriously popular in France, especially with the youth.  Upon further research they source all their food locally, it’s organic and they are highly regulated by the EU meaning sans the preservatives, hormones etc….so a bit better than the overprocessed American version.  But still!  But we got curious and had to check it out and the food tastes much less processed than in the states; even the salads are something you would find in a nice bistro.  While they do drive-through, the french are fond of their two hour lunch and you will find them lounging at the local McDonalds while they are being served their food in recyclable containers – even the french fries come in a signature McDonald’s plastic molded cup! 

The Royal Collection!

Another hurdle we finally overcame was the opening of our French bank account at BNP Paribas.  It was a welcome relief as all the French government systems require this and setting up our house for the electrical, heating etc. requires an account as well.  While this came as a welcome relief we still hadn’t seen our bank cards for a couple of weeks.   I called our agent’s office and got her assistant who spoke a little english but managed to navigate me through the phone app to get a message to her.   Alas, this is France and our agent profusely apologized saying the drugs from her dental appointment caused her to somehow lose her memory.  We were running low on Euros and don’t like using our American credit cards as we get dinged with the current conversion depending on the strength of the dollar.  We can however do direct transfers from our bank to certain retailers, more so at point-of-sale rather than online so we have been able to maneuver around our current handicap – at least for now. 

As we were in Bergerac it was the perfect day to meander the historic town center, accompanied by Cyrano himself.  We will be spending more time here with friends, shopping, enjoying cafe chats and long walks along the river.  

Colombage Architecture
Cyrano!

Our cards finally arrived in a few days and I was able to go on a bit of a shopping spree as we had furniture we needed delivered to the new digs.  

March 1st marked the closing of our house followed by the appointment with the local office to enroll in the French Healthcare system.  Once we get their version of a social security number (not to be confused with the American version), which is used specifically for healthcare, we will be issued our Carte Vitale and be able to finally set up an appointment with a general practitioner.  This will get us into the network of specialists we are eager to connect with.  

We will miss the hikes through the woods and green spaces of Prats du Perigord, surrounded by working farms, the horses, donkey, dogs and goose (just one!). Our initial immersion into France has been as equally lovely as it has been frustrating; the difference is the latter is temporary while the former will be an enduring experience for the rest of our lives.   

The weather turned cold again, with heavy frost and even a dusting of snow but nothing compared to what the west coast of the United States was enduring.  Reflecting on our situation this time last year, I realized we could have been stuck in Portland or in Santa Rosa as we wouldn’t have been able to get through to the Alabama Hills in California with our RV.  Back in the 70’s I remember one storm that blasted through Southern California and for the first time you could see the mountains – we had a small respite from the horrific Los Angeles smog of that era.  

The day of our signing finally arrived and we powered through it at the Notaire in Villereal with no incident and were handed our keys.  Voila!  We owned a house in France! 

Yet we couldn’t go play at the house as we had an hour drive for our healthcare appointment, and we had to finish packing up and cleaning up the gite. That took up Thursday and Friday and then we finally arrived for good on Saturday morning; it was early and crispy cold, but here, the landscape sweeps you along its sensual curves to deposit you at its doorstep, ignoring your protests.  The sun was also very accomodating; it decided there would be no contest as it emerged to celebrate this glorious day. 

After years of dreaming, copious amounts of planning, being in a constant state of (and many times exhausting) transition for a year….we had finally arrived.  More to come on our homeowner experience.  

After managing some delivery faux pas (like a bed), we settled in for our first night and even managed to get the Wi-Fi going, averting a potential disaster🙄

I awoke early on Sunday, and as I walked down the hallway I could hear the crowing of a rooster, the national symbol of France. 

A Glorious Sunrise to Greet Our New Life