Tag: #travel

France 2025 Travel Review

Posted on Posted in Expatriation, France, French, National Parks, Photography, The French LifeTagged , , , , , , , , , , , , Leave a comment

In this installment of my blog I am covering a year of regional travel in France and a trip back to the US to visit relatives. 

But let’s begin with a perennial favorite: 

Paris

…is an idea that thrills most but disappoints some – an idea about expectations and the perfect ideal.  I view Paris as a treasure hunt; I’ve been to the usual venues on most Parisian bucket lists, even Musee D’Orsay twice which still sends me into orbit; I never tire of the ambience, the grandeur tempered by reserve, that genius that comes with great art.  

The French are a clever bunch, be it the creation of the most delicate croissants, world class cuisine, fashion, the venues boasting some of the most iconic artists in history, authors, or architecture that challenges the boundaries of physics.  Every time I exit the metro and gaze upon the Seine with its familiar backdrops, I am always consumed with wonderment.  

Interestingly, you will not see any high rises on the centers skirting the right and left banks; this is done on purpose – why would you want to block the view, especially from the Sacre Coeur or Montmartre in general? See?  The French would say – how can this ever be outdone.  The paradox of restraint and then none; scale and substance.  Yes, the French are full of paradoxes.

When we ventured to Paris in the spring, unwittingly during spring break, cursing the crowds but praising the unseasonably warm weather, we found ourselves stumbling into venues that you ask… why is this not in a brochure or something.  You might find the venues in the “Hidden Paris” blogs, but in many cases not. 

For example: 

We wanted to go to E. Dehillerin; for fans of Julia Child this is where she purchased her copper and other assorted cookware during her time in Paris.  When we got off the metro we thought we had somehow stumbled onto Notre Dame:  Mon Dieu! Before our eyes was the magnificent Church of St. Eustache, and as it turns out the second largest cathedral in Paris.  As it was a hot day, we gladly ventured in and found ourselves cooling off in the almost-devoid-of-people nave, craning our necks at the elaborate stained glass windows and the stately pillars of heaven.  I was trying to reconcile in my mind the scale of this place – being in a sort of denial that this cathedral was nearly the size of Notre Dame – yet it is – right there. 

St. Eustache used to be the market center, Les Halles de Paris, centuries ago – think 13th century. It has gone through several iterations as you can imagine with all those revolutions and has been lovingly restored back to all its glory.

Church of St. Eustache

After we finished our respite, we mapped our way to E. Dehillerin, strolling along a lovely tree covered esplanade flanked by bistros, a revelation begging you to tuck in and pine away a few hours; and the French don’t mind, they practically invented slow eating…sometimes you wonder if your food is ever going to show up. While busy it was not “bustling.”  It felt like I had discovered a dirty little secret in the heart of Paris. 

After committing to come back for lunch on our next visit, we ventured around the corner to E. Dehillerin with its landmark store front.  It is very unassuming; the interior looks as though it hasn’t been refurbished in decades and gives off the vibe of a curiosity shop. There is a winding staircase to the downstairs where varieties of french pots and pans are on display.  

There is also a very utilitarian method of pricing:  The item is marked with a number and then you thumb through a notebook to find the price.  

I found the shop to be a bit of an oddity considering the bling you find along the store fronts on the Champ De Elysee or pretty much everywhere else in that vicinity. Of course Paris wouldn’t be Paris without its signature brands competing for attention. Yet, you have to admire E. Dehillerin for being “who they are.”  Even if you aren’t into finding high-end copper or kitchen gadgets, this place is definitely worth a look-see.  

And there is always that shady esplanade right around the corner😁

We also discovered the Waterman pen shop that boasted incredible Japanese pens and holders anywhere from 500 to 1000 or more euros.  It’s quite the place and was certainly competing on the same scale as the great fashion houses. 

For my birthday lunch we had reserved a table at Le Fermette, or its more uninventive label “Beefbar,” that is now part of a chain.  The contradiction being that it’s one of the more classical, original art deco venues in Paris.  The prices are steep as, in a sense, you are going not just for the food, but the venue.  I settled for a more moderate steak that was outstanding…of course!  The people watching was equally fabulous; a young woman decked out in an understated skirt and jacket with the classic French scarf sat and enjoyed her two-hour respite; in a very refined manner as if this was her day out to indulge and be doted on. 

But the highlight of the trip had to be the River Cruise.  It wasn’t a typical cattle-car barge that you see Parisian wannabes parading “whatever” fashion up and down the deck.  No, this was a bit more intimate dinner cruise with lounge chairs and tables facing the riverside.  I had only done an evening cruise, that I recommend, but you do miss some of the fabulous architecture; homes, apartments, the Louvre etc. all from a different perspective.  The real treat was that it was a holiday and the weather was perfect.  This unfolded in what I can only describe as an unending “block picnic” with Parisians and tourists alike, flooding the banks of the river with their dinners, aperitifs and joy.  I can’t imagine there is any place like it in the world – capturing the essence of a spring day in one of the most legendary cities in the world. 

In summation, Paris is always a good idea. 

In June, our next adventure took us to the French Atlantic coast to the popular destinations of Biarritz and just across the Spanish border to San Sebastián.

They are about a 3.5 hour drive from us, just west of the Pyrenees, through the lovely countryside.  Our first stop was San Sebastián that is famous for its Basque cuisine and language.  Basque is the oldest language in Europe and has a fascinating syntax.  They also have a vast array of tapas bars known as “pintxo” with flavors indigenous to that region.  The architecture and town center are lovely, a sort of French and Spanish fusion, and the weather had a southern California vibe to it.  

The beaches in this region are sandy, as opposed to the Med, which seem more pebble-like.  We saw local artists creating gorgeous reliefs in the sand and the beaches were surprisingly uncrowded – I suppose it’s more so in the height of summer but the weather certainly warranted more beach activity. 

Biarritz is what I had imagined Nice to be: Terraced cafes cascading down to a vast esplanade, sandy beaches, and coves.  Nice, to me, was more hotel dominated on the waterfront with food “shacks” on the beach that butt up to the esplanade.  Biarritz also has a diversity of restaurants and great shopping venues that you meander through at your leisure.  The city is a great balance and we thoroughly enjoyed our time there.  

After we returned from the US in September (more on that later) we ventured to Brantome also known as the “Venice of France.” I think that label overstates it a bit, but it is still quite beautiful with canals dominated by a picturesque abbey dating back to 769, originally founded by Charlemagne and even more interesting, is built into former troglodyte caves that were used for housing.  

As it was October, we were a bit off-season but most of the venues were open and we even found an English tea shop doubling as a bookstore that, we of course, walked away with more reading material.  

During this trip we toodled off to the east to the famous Lascaux caves, renowned for the well-preserved cave paintings.  We were thoroughly immersed in the experience and recommend it to anyone coming to France.  There are fantastic caves systems, some with paintings and underwater canals that you can boat through, within this region.  This area has so much to explore including the troglodyte villages we couldn’t see it all in one trip … so we’ll be back!  

Though we have seen a lot now, we feel as though we have only scratched the surface on this incredibly diverse country that we now call home.  

France 2025 France Reel. https://youtu.be/4Maza0u-klE

Now…our visit back to the United States: 

There’s a sudden jolt when landing back in your home country – actually it starts on the plane because everyone is speaking English and… with an American accent.  After nearly three years into our French transition, instead of the rather constant churn of flexing your brain to a foreign language and circumstance, you can finally let your “guard” down.  It’s a bit of a relief, much like taking meds for a headache.  When we flew by Mount Rainier, in all her magnificent glory, I was delighted she made a showing, welcoming me back to the place of my birth.  

We were greeted at the airport by my brother and sister-in-law and made the two hour journey to Sequim on the Olympic Peninsula.  

We were of course pretty shattered by the time we reached Sequim; it was dark and our sister-in-law thankfully brought us basic necessities like milk and creamer and we had the foresight to bring coffee.  Jet lag, being what it is, had me up pretty early regardless, knowing that I would need a nap later in the day.  

Sequim is in a beautiful area and we awoke to the mountains with the sun coming over the horizon.  My brother’s house is on the hill in a lovely subdivision that overlooks the Strait of Juan de Fuca; on a clear day they can see all the way to Victoria, Canada and Mt. Baker in the distance. 

We picked up my brother and went for a walk along the Railroad Bridge Trail, a lovely area complete with a nature center with Indian totems engraved in the concrete and fences.  I recommend stopping by here to anyone who visits this area.  

We ended the day with Thai food takeaway, yet another thing that is not readily available to us.  In France they tone it down and mix it in with Chinese and Japanese and it’s just not the same!  I have sourced ingredients to make my own and we are still on the hunt for a more authentic experience.  

The following days consisted of boys going golfing while I did some shopping for items not available in France, or Europe even.  I headed out to the local Walmart to stock up on:  Candies such as Butterfinger and Milk Duds to satisfy the sweet tooth of friends back in France.  It’s like a nostalgia thing really!  I got some Twizzlers and Whoppers as I haven’t been able to find the equivalent in Europe or the UK.  I also picked up nasal decongestant and some other over-the-counter meds.  In France, and most of Europe, you need to go to the pharmacy and ask for them at the counter;  they aren’t at the grocery store like they are in the U.S.   The packets here are small and some of the products such as the nasal decongestant lack the strength I’m accustomed to.  I also wrapped up presents for the relatives that I brought over (again, shipping is expensive from France to the US and visa versa) and took a welcoming nap.  

We had yet another early morning as we had to catch the early ferry to Seattle as my brother had an appointment and we decided to tag along.  The coastal fog was thick on our way to the Kingston ferry, yet it was like a welcoming abyss, carrying the essence of pine and coastal waters that is unlike anywhere else I have experienced in the world; the forest emerges through the breaking light and you are cocooned, or rather bathed in the untamed – that so much of this land remains.  I suspect part of the draw is that this is also the land of my birth and there is an inextricable pull of nostalgia that goes along with it.  We drove by the never-ending bays and inlets, easily connected onto the ferry, immediately experiencing an awakening that comes along with the bracing sea air.  It’s a perfect elixir when you think of the negative ions generated by the forest and the sea; you basically get a double whammy.  

While we were waiting for my brother at his appointment, we discovered a Target and an REI in walking distance – what a joy to find some odds and ends that we hadn’t seen in a while. 

The following day we were on the road again to Portland to catch up with old friends.  We took Highway 101 past the spectacular Hood Canal, stopping off to check out the local oyster beds.  We headed to Olympia to meet with our Portfolio Manager from Morgan Stanley – it was so great to catch up face-to-face vs our typical Zoom call.  After a leisurely lunch (yes it does happen in America),  we hit the all too familiar I-5 corridor… it was as though we had never left.  We couldn’t resist a stop at our old haunt of Centralia and to shop at the outlet stores -I was looking specifically for an Eddie Bauer fix and it did not disappoint!  Knowing we had only so much space in our luggage, a fair amount of restraint was required.

We later arrived at our friend’s house, Debbie and Mike’s,  just in time for cocktails.  They live in a lovely, restored vintage-style home set in the foothills of Forest Park, just off of the fabulous Japanese Gardens.  They have quite a few steps to get up the house but you are rewarded with a killer view of Portland and Mt. Hood.    We spent hours catching up after not seeing them for nearly three years. 

Saturday we slept in a bit and Bob went to meet a friend in our old neighborhood.  I took some time to decompress after two long days traveling…and I was still recovering from the flight.  I went for a walk and met with our friend Nancy, who also visits us in France – yes – it is a small world!!!  We had coffee at the famous Powell’s City of Books.  Again, we needed to practice restraint as books are pretty heavy and we were hungry for some well-priced gems.  The weather was balmy and we dove into some of the shops in the Pearl District, just for the fun of it. 

We found that the homeless situation had improved vastly and that Portland was on the upswing – recovering from the lack of tenants in downtown due to the pandemic.  Otherwise it was calm with people just going about their daily business.  

That evening we all went out to one of the better restaurants in Portland, which is no small feat as Portland is hailed as one of the top foodie venues in the states.  We had booked weeks ahead for a table at Higgins; an understated venue boasting local delights.  The salmon was of course spectacular.  

On Sunday we had arranged to meet up with friends on the waterfront.  Sadly the weather turned bad with torrential rain.  While some did not venture out to meet us, we were blessed with other old pals who came to learn about our French adventures.  Instead of going for a walk that would have been rather uncomfortable, we opted for a coffee shop – which isn’t hard to do in this part of the world.  Interestingly, one of the quirks in France is the proliferation of hair salons; we can count two to three within what seems like a five block radius🤷‍♀️  So I can safely say that there are an equal amount of coffee shops in the Pacific Northwest as there are hair salons in France.  

Go figure.  

After spending time with good friends, including a walk through Forest Park with Debbie, we headed back to Sequim.  

We motored back up the I-5 via Centralia to get an A&W fix, finding that it was tragically integrated with a Kentucky Fried Chicken.  We ordered a small bucket of chicken and I got a “medium float.” The root beer float turned out to be a 32 ounce monster and the chicken was exceptionally greasy.  We have taste tested KFC in France out of curiosity, and it has nowhere near the grease-quotient as the one in Centralia. When we left, there were more than seven fast-food joints lining the streets on the route back to the freeway.  Yes, we have McDonalds, Burger King and KFC in France, but they are the exception rather than the rule, they are also highly regulated as the ingredients are sourced locally.  We have read recently that the reason France has some of the lowest obesity rates in the world is due to the regulation of having freshly sourced food within walking distance in all the major cities.  Even their frozen food is becoming more healthy so that “convenience” foods are readily available to busy folks.  

So all the fruit and vegetables stands we see along the streets when we go into town are for a good reason.  And they are also beautifully arranged – of course!! 

The French more often than not, opt for the two-hour lunch and cafe culture; it’s a slower pace of life here and it works.  And… eating at your desk is actually prohibited by French law!! This slang has been called “A Desko.” You will rarely see the French walking and eating at the same time.  And the noise register is much lower in restaurants; the French practice restraint when speaking while eating out and the children are very disciplined – considering they’re…kids.  They find talking on the phone and loud parties to be rude – I suspect it is different during football matches but I don’t normally frequent those places.  

And I have yet to see a drive-through Starbucks even in the major city centers.  

The next day, my eldest sister, Carol, arrived in Sequim and we had a chance to catch up with her and her charming husband, Nate, over a lovely dinner at the house.  The following days included a trip to Port Townsend and a walk along the nearby spit.  We found Port Townsend to be lovely with its old-style architecture and of course, a vast array of coffee shops.  We stopped for a cuppa overlooking the bay.  The weather was perfect and balmy – it could have easily been a plague of rain so we were feeling blessed. 

We then ventured to Port Townsend via Flagerty spit where we had a nice walk and I had Reuben that isn’t a thing in Europe – that I can find.  It was a perfect day with the ocean breezes keeping us cool.  I picked up a few souvenirs from beach combing to add to my ever-expanding collection.  

We came back and had a nice beef stroganoff and shared old family pictures much to my brother’s delight.  Carol also came with her album to fill in the gaps. The sky had clouded over with smoke from the bear gulch fire, exacerbated by Mt. St Helens having a hiccup and spewing bursts of ash.   

The following day was yet another stellar day,  and we all ventured up to Hurricane Ridge in the Olympic mountains; the smoke and fog had cleared and we climbed to over 5000 feet to the visitor center.  We walked the trails, skirted by both newer bushier growth and tall ancient pines shouldered by steep alpine meadows.  The winters on the ridge, as you can imagine from the name, are harsh and the ruins of bleached tree trunks and branches emerge from the forest floor, dappled by the forest canopy.  It was a bit coolish but not drastically so. 

We managed to acquire a picnic table with a grand view of the range, warmed by the high altitude sun and ate lunch surrounded by the magnificent ruins of a glacial past, cut deep and wide through the region eons ago.  

On our way back, we stopped off at the viewpoints and from there we could see the Strait of Juan De Fuca all the way into Canada.  

The area is known as a “rain shadow,” a bit of a paradox as on one side it receives only 20 inches of rain a year and on the other side of the mountains is the Olympic Rain Forest, one of the wettest places in the US, that gives rise to a moss-like fantasy usually found in stories such as Lord of the Rings.  The term “rainshadow” sparks a long procession of shops, sundries and coffee references throughout Sequim.  

We ended the day reminiscing and I bid my sister Carol and Nate a fond farewell as they made their journey back to Idaho.  

On Friday, the four of us headed out to the Dungeness Spit; walking and beach-combing. We communed with the waves as they thundered onto the shore, spewing various forms of seaweed and ocean debris.  The sea air here in the PNW is much more intense – like the smell of oysters and smoked salmon.  Very different from the east and west coasts of Europe.  

We then had lunch at a fabulous hamburger restaurant; mine had the incomparable Hatch green chilis, only found in New Mexico, giving the burger a nice sweet, but not too spicy flavor. That was topped off with a reasonable, thick root beer float.  The others had thick milkshakes served in traditional milkshake glasses.  It was a rather nostalgic moment with a shared experience enjoyed by all.  Truly a classic American lunch!!

After having gorged ourselves once again, Bob and I venture back to the Airbnb to start pulling together our accumulated “stuff” in the hopes we wouldn’t go over the weight requirements at the airport.  

We then ventured off to see “Downton Abbey, The Finale” in Port Angeles followed by a nice (light) meal at Kokopelli.  Again, we noticed the noise register in the restaurant was much higher than what we had become accustomed to in France. 

Saturday morning found us packing, trying to see how accommodating our luggage would be with our purchases, that included taking everything out of cardboard packaging and some clever rearranging.   Of course, we did last minute shopping in Sequim for some souvenirs, had some nice Chinese food (oh yes, General Tso’s Chicken!) and then met my brother for a walk once again on the Railroad Bridge Trail.  

We stopped by the Hurricane Cafe in Sequim for ice cream and I had huckleberry flavor (of course).  We ended our stay with a dinner  at “Nourish” – a lovely organic restaurant to celebrate our anniversary.  It always seems like we are somewhere else in the world for our anniversary – and that’s ok.  

Yet another beautiful day in the PNW. 

Sunday – the last day: 

We got up and spent a few hours packing as we were running over the limit on the baggage but we managed to sort that drama out.  We had a final walk with my brother around his lovely neighborhood with fantastic views of the bay and the mountains.  It was a perfect send-off. 

In Summary:

The mountains and the oceanside of the Pacific Northwest is a deeper sensory experience; the smell of the pine permeates at a molecular level and the sea has a distinct smell of brine – much like visiting an oyster bar.  The air is so piercing and the sky such a vibrant blue; it seems as though is should be reserved for a different dimension. 

The rain shadow of the Pacific Northwest keeps the damp and gloom at bay, while affording the lush green of the ever-pervasive pine forests.  The fog is thick but breaks away by noon.  I am never bothered by fog, I actually find it quite comforting. 

After our long-haul flight that I am increasingly becoming less-of-a-fan of, we landed in Toulouse, where we spent the night before heading home.  

Some of the take always from our cultural experience of returning to the US: 

The proliferation of Suburus – and America being so at ease with larger vehicles; in France you would feel like a sardine on the country roads.  In fact, on the rare occasion that we have encountered a Ford Ranger or its next-of-kin, we are really surprised.  Though the French do like to drive the American muscle cars and we have encountered Mustangs and Cameros on occasion.  

There are no retrofitted Honda Civics with their loud enginges breaking the sound barrier, nor do you find much in the way of loud thumping stereos, even in the larger cities.  

The food is definitely more processed:  We bought what we thought were organic strawberries and they stayed relatively fresh for nearly two weeks.  Here in France, the berries last, maybe, up to four days!  Hmmm.

The roads in France, and in Europe in general, are pretty devoid of garbage. And it is rare that you find rusted cars or old furniture strewn anywhere i.e. illegal tipping. If found on your property you will be fined.  So they keep things pretty tidy.  In our area of Portland, there was always illegal tipping, it was rather annoying.  

While the French don’t have “weed and feed” they still endeavor to keep their properties landscaped and are fond of laurel or similar hedges, cypress trees and pines.  Yet, like everywhere else, most of the French are not rich and I remind myself that I came from a simple middle-class neighborhood in Portland, a parallel contrast in culture and landscapes – each equally as flawed and grand as the other. 

Back at our humble country home we welcomed the solitude, the canopy of stars, the rising and setting of the sun that always paints a perfect picture across the nearby fields, and the long sigh of fresh air. 

Pacific Northwest Reel: https://youtu.be/UscWXn9xeT4?feature=shared

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!  

September 7-9, 2024 Ngorongoro Tanzania, Africa

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After a lovely farewell from the staff at Chem Chem we made our way back to the entrance of the gate keeping our eyes peeled for any unexpected wildlife sightings; we did see more impala and as I write this I am sure they a paying little or no attention to the comings and goings of these strange humans.  When I leave a place I reflect on the silence brought about by our absence and the freedom that comes with that thought.  

We were met at the gate of the concession by our guides, Emanuel and Logi, from the Entamanu Safari Lodge.  Emanuel was an older gentleman having been a guide in this area for over 30 years and in my view it felt as if he was more of a wise sage accompanying us on our journey.  Logi was his apprentice whom he had known for a long time and was set to take over from Emanuel when he retired – which he hoped was soon; Bob and I could sympathize with his desires. The guides and drivers work very long hours and seem to spend most of their time on rough roads; they must adapt to this sort of thing that would make the rest of us go somewhat insane.  Yet they are always excited about the wildlife and showing us their treasures, especially the hidden ones.  

We spent most of the drive on a nicely paved highway that apparently takes you all the way to Egypt which was an interesting thought.  We then veered through more Masai land herding their cows and goats that for me was an interesting comparative study to the Native Americans who also managed to thrive in a place that seemed rather devoid of any lush accompaniments, but that consideration alone discriminates against a people who live in relative satisfaction with their lives – so who is really the more privileged?  As I sat in the comfort of the land rover, rolling by in relative ease, internalizing, much like I did in Nairobi, especially as we drove by the interminable Kibera slums (over 2 million people), at how much of the world does not experience my immunity to that way of life. 

Emanuel insisted that Entamanu wasn’t Chem Chem and Bob and I had no issue since we weren’t subscribers to Architectural Digest and had expectations of something a bit more rustic.  Emanuel said there are other “fancy people” lodges in the vicinity but not at the elevation of this one.  We didn’t come to Africa to be pampered, you can get that at any resort along the Mediterranean, though we did start growing accustomed to the outstanding service levels we were to meet along our trek.  

After a few hours we started climbing into the highlands with its deep red soil and lush vegetation.  The air reminded me of the Pacific Northwest for some reason though the landscape was set in a more jungle-like atmosphere much like Hawaii.  The elevation and positioning near the equator creates a rich elixir for the senses with a fascination of vines and thick undergrowth.  We passed through one of the local towns with its usual madness of tuk tuks, motorcycles and donkeys.  It’s a fusion of the new and the old, with the old ways being somewhat more practical when modern civilization fails you.  Though one does wonder how the art of carrying the sofa on the back of a motorcycle is cultivated.  

Soon we arrived at the gate to the crater.  The Ngorongoro Crater is a UNESCO World Heritage Site and the largest unbroken caldera in the world.  The road that leads to the crater is not paved and the larger potholes are filled only every few months to no avail…as if by design; it was very busy so we had a lot of bumps, curves, exhaust, dust and what appeared to be near misses with other vehicles, but that was only true in the over-civilized imagination.  

I discovered that there are two classifications of dust on the safari circuit: Civilized dust that occurs on structured roads that is mixed with exhaust and sets your sinuses on fire and the uncivilized kind that blows through you as you rough-road through a savannah, seeping into your cells so you can become one with the earth, a visit back to a forgotten self. The latter is the kind of “dust” I hope to visit in my dreams. 

After what seemed like an eternity, (an exaggeration on about 45 minutes) we came across an orderly battlement of vehicles worthy of an outdoor cinema; this was a front row seat into the caldera from the viewpoint of a bird.  Like the Grand Canyon, you momentarily forget all your senses as you peer through the gates of heaven trying to reconcile that such a magnificent vista really exists.  Here Mama Africa cupped her hands and cried tears of joy as she gave birth, flooding the plains with a deluge of creation.  

We moved further up to our lunch venue near facilities (many times there are attendants who come and clean after the “flush” with a hose, because the water pressure may be in question) that apparently is a common meeting ground for tour groups.  I have found that many of the general tourist-area toilets (very true for the bush airports) are wanting for some reason – considering the volume of visitors.  The lodge facilities are typically great if not outstanding.  

We settled on stumps and fold-out chairs, mostly to avoid the ants at the picnic tables, and ate what had been given us from Chem Chem, sharing much of it with our guides as we were at this point already being overfed; such is the tradition in Africa.  

Unfortunately, Emanuel’s sandwich was torn from his hand by a passing eagle😫 On the bright side it could have been a seagull or a crow, but he was afforded a more prestigious grab.

We then meandered through the equatorial jungle that broke into highland grasslands, passing through more Masai country with their bomas, and as we gained elevation we could see the distant plains of the Serengeti and its earthly haze.  We turned off to the road leading to the Entamanu Lodge – the highest one in the Ngorongoro Highlands and in its own unique location on the rim; this location also affords you access to the crater floor before just about everyone else. 

https://www.nomad-tanzania.com/camps/northern-tanzania/ngorongoro-crater/entamanu

We arrived and after our briefing, decided to go on a walk around the highlands to stretch our legs.  We were accompanied by a ranger complete with a rifle and a Masai with a spear and a walking stick that I decided to use on the downhill slope.  It was a beautiful and clear day through forest and grasslands, there were elephant and antelope sightings though we didn’t encounter any, but we were graced by the giraffes who poked their heads above the acacia trees; referred to fondly by the Masai as “bush towers.”  We learned about the trees and medicinal properties of many of the plants.  We encountered the ubiquitous cattle drive, with the soothing tinkling of bells and momentarily became herders ourselves.  We managed to get about an hour of elevation cardio in before we went to our room and freshened up for dinner.  

We had our sundowner with others in the lodge, set near a lovely fire. We ran into Americans who would be staying at the Serengeti Safari Lodge so we would have a somewhat shared experience moving forward.  

At this height, It doesn’t take long for it to get cold and windy and after a nice supper we were escorted to our room (a practice we would find at every lodge) with a nice gas fireplace – that was truly welcome!  Our room had a bit of a Scandinavian vibe to it; very understated with cow skins and rugs so you could settle in for an evening, protected against the elements. 

During the night, the wind rattled things a bit and we were awoken at 5:00 with a tray of superb coffee that was placed in a kiosk built into the wall – much like a stationary dumbwaiter, so we can easily retrieve it without too much disturbance, and also letting the cold in.  We huddled in bed until the fire got us warm enough to get dressed.  As we stepped outside, bundled in almost every layer we had thought to bring, the wind mixed with the fog made for a very atmospheric, almost jack-the-ripper start to the day. We were escorted to the land rover, complete with blankets and hot water bottles.  We retraced our way to the entrance that lead to the crater floor; we wound down this portion of the road that has been, thankfully, repaved into cobblestone.  The mist started to lift and the sun eventually parted, revealing the treasures below.  

At the threshold of the cauldron, a rhino was spotted in the distance but it was too far for my camera lense, but we watched as he sauntered across the grasslands in solitude.  There were currently very few other vehicles in the vicinity.  

Our first stop was a fresh lion kill which at the time was a very novel event for us.  We were glad we were early birds because in about an hour nearly 20 other vehicles started to pile up for a look, even though only five vehicles are technically allowed at a time.  Many had up to six people packed in trying to get selfies; and fortunately for us being early gave us the best vantage point and the lions would be fast asleep by the time many of the other sightseers arrived. 

The morning meal with the lion family was a sight to behold, giving us Africa in all her savage glory; blood soaked faces and mama licking her cub clean.  The tearing of the flesh and breaking of bones is an auditory and elemental experience. 

We also had a chance to study two magnificent male lions before they too passed out for a day-long siesta.  Emanuel called one of them “Mufasa” and they were certainly stunning specimens (I sometimes wonder if he isn’t also referring to himself!).  There had been two kills as the remains of a wildebeest were not far away, on the other side of the road.  When you observe the family, even though their bellies appear horrendously full, they keep eating as they sometimes don’t know when their next meal will be. 

Mufasa

There was a troupe of hyenas and circling vultures nearby, but they hadn’t ventured too far as the two male lions were not far away, and I guess that was more than the scavengers could bear for now.  

As we were by a lake, we saw plenty of bird life including flamingos.  The area was rife with hippos who would move occasionally but were otherwise content to be enormous slugs along the shoreline.  

We managed to squeeze past the increasing number of vehicles, some that were blocking our progress, and at the point were happy to be extricated from the fray, and proceeded through the vast ecosystem seeing some stunning bird life – the Crowned Crane topped the list and proliferated everywhere it seemed. 

Gray Crowned Crane

We saw Ostrich couples and studied the vultures that looked very similar to condors. Many people think they are ugly, but like the hyena, they are very unique and necessary to the savannah.  I find them quite fascinating.  

We then moved onto more hippos including the rare experience of a mating couple  🫣. We then stopped for breakfast, which is basically an area reserved for tourists with decent bathrooms.  It was set overlooking a lake with an accompanying marsh with elephants, more birds and of course hippos; we witnessed two sparring which was a treat and of course you don’t venture too close to that sort of spectacle (one gentleman was getting too close and the guides started to freak out). 

As we ate and chased away the neon blue starlings on the hunt for breakfast bits… but this time the eagles were absent and we managed a meal in relative peace. The sun was breaking through the cloud layer making for ethereal backdrops with the game seemingly small against the dramatic escarpment. We even encountered a small wildebeest migration crossing the road; a prelude to what we hoped we would experience in the Serengeti.  The crater is an astounding area within its own microcosm, protected so the inhabitants can live out their daily lives in relative peace (save for us tourists but rangers can come and break up the “party” if the drivers get too aggressive).

We stopped off on a knoll overlooking the grasslands, a gentle wind ushered in a peaceful vista, filling my lungs to capacity.  I can imagine at night, even when the predators are restless, the peace here is palpable and it’s when the cauldron truly comes to life.  When one thinks of a cauldron it usually means fire, but here, this is a cauldron of life.  

We made our way back to the rim and ended the day with a highland bush walk, again with a ranger and a Masai guide that took us through a herd of giraffes who poked their heads above the canopy – they stopped and watched as we walked past.  We headed for our sundowner spot, all set up with an open bar and a lovely view, across the landscapes of the Ngorongoro – the sky becoming a picturesque magenta. 

We then began to hear the chants as dancers from the local Masai village filed in, in all their respective glory; it was certainly one of the highlights of the day.  

As the dancing faded we could once again hear the cow bells from the nearby herds, a background symphony that earned this area its name:  Ngorongoro echoes the tune of cow bells, as demonstrated by a song rolling off the tongue of our Masai guide.  There is no end to the charm of this place.  

The next morning our guides took us back down the road-from-hell and it seemed like even more tourists were winding their way back up.  After about 45 minutes we reached the gate and the accompanying mayhem.  It certainly makes for great people watching. I’m torn by the need for tourism to fund the people of Tanzania, and the abuses that accompany this sort of progress.  

Back on smooth roads again we were driven to the Manyara airstrip for our next stop, the Serengeti and the Great Migration. The strip is small and we were flying in a cessna so it was going to be cozy to say the least.  We bid Emanuel and Logi a fond farewell – we felt so blessed to have had a private vehicle with two excellent guides; they did an incredible job of showing us the sights and skirting any potential hoards.   We soon squeezed our way into the cabin. The she-captain tells you to fasten your seat belts but the gentleman across from us couldn’t get his belt to work so he tied it around his waist #thisisafrica.  As we ascended, the crater opened up below us, giving us a parting panorama as the massive cauldron and its inhabitants slid into the distance.  

The Ngorongoro

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!

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

Posted on Posted in American Expat, Beauxvillage, Dordogne, Expatriation, France, France, French, Jardin, Lotetgaronne, Maison, maison de campagne, Photography, The French Life, Travel, Voyage en FranceTagged , , , , , , , , 4 Comments

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

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

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Our container finally arrived – two weeks late and a day before our vacation to Venice by way of the French Riviera (Cote d’Azure).  

The driver showed up an hour early!  The rest of the team arrived soon after.  

Though we had permission from the mayor (Marie) to block the road, we didn’t take into consideration the school bus so needed to do some maneuvering. Fortunately none of the farm tractors came our way so they must have gotten the message.  

The French movers were a delight and they managed to correct my pronunciation as I directed them where the boxes needed to go.  It was great practice!  The gite is now a storage unit while the house has become a healthy repository of boxes we will be madly sorting through when we get back. 

We realized we couldn’t get much of the furniture up the spiral staircase – but voila! The ladder had arrived and Bob, and with the assistance of our courageous peeps, were able to haul some of the pieces through the window of the pigeonnier.

You have to do what you have to do!

All went well, and we were pretty depleted by the end of the day; after taking a break and offering whiskey and pizza to the team our last mission was to find the feet to the sofa – I really wanted to flop on my dear friend in front of the TV.  Luckily, we found the “tool box” the movers had left –  thank god!!!  We both sighed a collective ahh as Bob leaned back in his recliner and I sunk into the sofa.  OMG – is this for real? 

I poured myself a healthy dose of Suntori Toki Whiskey that I found in Perigueux (my favorite, yes!!!), and zoned out – bliss.  

Thankfully the movers got our dresser through the downstairs master bedroom window as it wouldn’t fit through the door – and then they assembled our bed😴.  I love this bedroom set and you don’t find this style much here in France.  It was amazing sleeping in our own bed and the mattress was a slice of heaven; the mattresses here are hard and I think it has caused me more aches and pains than I normally have (aging doesn’t help of course) 

The next morning we managed to get a few things unboxed, and the house tidied and in some semblance of order before we left for vacation.  

In a way I wish I was still there going through our stuff, yet with all our transition challenges and prepping for the arrival of our container I’m glad for the break; we will be away from our chores and distractions and we truly needed a respite from the transition fatigue. We are coming to the tail-end of chaos and heck, it isn’t like our stuff is going anywhere!!

Fortunately we had packed most of our travel luggage for vacation prior to the container arriving so we had to just throw a few items at the last minute and then toodled off to Perpignan near the Mediterranean coast.  And…it was also my birthday!!  My sister-in-law called from the UK and later my brother and sister-in-law in Seattle the following morning – such is our life overseas.  

We didn’t do any real touring in Perpignan as we were too tired but we got a good look at Carcassonne and the “King’s Landing” cathedral ……we will be back as it’s only a few hours away and deserves closer inspection.  

On our way to Nice we meandered along the Med and stopped in La Ciotat just north of Marseilles, and had a fabulous meal on the beach; I wound up having a hamburger and fries as I hadn’t had one forever and it was really good.  It felt like “homey” food. The weather was in the 60’s which was perfect for just relaxing.  

We got to our hotel in Nice with a view of the ocean. 

Palm trees are always a good idea

After getting settled in we went for a stroll along the promenade to the huge shopping center that boasts most of the major designers and smattering of unique and familiar shops.  I made a stop to the Body Shop and got myself some eau de cologne and bubble bath – it was time for some self care! 

The landscape here reminds me a lot of California but the water is definitely bluer – hence the name Cote d’Azure.  I can see why it would be a hotspot.  

We were several miles from the center of Old Nice, so we caught an Uber (yes they operate here!) and headed to the downtown hotspots, the first stop was the flower market that did not disappoint.

Flowers galore….

There is also a smattering of unique shops with a conscious restraint from the kitsch – minimal casinos (there is a Hard Rock Cafe)  and the tacky souvenir stores are kept to a minimum.  The architecture is spectacular with beautiful fronts along the Promenade de Anglais, a mix of Parisian, art nouveau and the historic blue and white striped umbrellas on the beach.  

Nice at its quintessential best – right before the hoards arrive

We hiked up to the gardens and cemetery for a view of the city and listened to the noon bells as they permeated the air.  

The crowds were pretty thick and it was even high season, but we managed to squeeze in a nice lunch and finish promenading along the waterfront.  

We loved Nice but like other popular destinations, it definitely gets crowded.  The area around our hotel, which is more off the beaten track, was much quieter.

We headed out the next day to Verona, we had already dodged Cannes as the film festival was in full swing and was-to-be-avoided and headed towards Monaco – the land of the mega-rich.  The landscape became dramatic, I mean up there with Zion and the Columbia Gorge.  We passed by Menton and its “King’s Landing” cathedral overlooking the Med, stopped to pay our dues at the interminable toll stations and motored through to Italy and yes, another language.  My mind thought it was going to explode as France was now my “new familiar.”  It seemed odd to think of it that way!  

Rest stop in Italy – supersized wine!!

The landscape was no less dramatic but this time there were green houses hanging from precipices and of course vineyards scaling impossible escarpments. We switched the radio to the Italian stations with their lively commentary.  Then we passed a sign for the 45th parallel; we were miles away but on the same line as Oregon wine country. 

We soon found ourselves in an agricultural area much like where we now live, with the  Alps poking out from the North.  There were rolling hills of vast fields with their churches enthroned atop the occasional villages and…then there were castles.  I guess it wouldn’t be Europe without castles!  

We passed by ruins – barns entwined by vegetation, in the middle of a perfectly manicured fields of barley. Besides the few RV’s we passed we suspected we were on a road not normally touristed, and like our adventure in the RV it was lovely to get the backroads perspective of this part of the country. 

We arrived at the Crown Plaza in Verona, and set out the next day to navigate the old streets known for Shakespeare’s Romeo and Juliet.  We were once again blessed with good parking karma as we found an obscure garage near the center😍

The arena, akin to the coliseum in Rome, with its ruinous facade just as equally captivating, was also a popular venue for famous operas and singers; sadly Peter Gabriel was to perform on the 20th of May!  We vowed to come back to experience either a concert or opera.  

Just a few tourists….

The city, like so many others, is the usual retail mecca of big box stores. We pushed our way through the throngs of foreigners like us and found a quiet corner with a fabulous view of a nearby cathedral.  The coffee in France and Italy is so good it will be difficult to go back to Starbucks – not that there is much in the offing in this area of Europe anyway☕️

Why I can never go back to Starbucks

We passed over the Ponte Pietra that was first constructed in 100 BCE and hiked up to Castel San Pietro.  After taking in the sights and sounds, and also working up an appetite, we decided to grab lunch on the way back down at Re Teodorico with its incredible views of classical ancient terraces and structures that define Italy like no other country, such as the spires of cypresses that offset the homes and villas.  

Poor resolution of a great view gave the image a painterly affect!

On our way back we wondered if was even worth trying to find “Juliette’s Balcony,” made famous by Shakespeare’s play.  It’s not really something that existed except in someone’s imagination and was built specifically to tease up more tourism.  As we approached the site, we were met with wall to wall bodies lined up to get their chance to view the “famous” balcony –  we both decided to pass on the opportunity.  I don’t typically need bragging rites on where I’ve visited anyway; I prefer to journal my experiences and share them with those who are interested. 

The next day, on our way out of Verona we stopped by Soave (yes, you guessed it, the famous wine region)  with its castle and vineyards; we picked up some wine for drinking in France since you mostly get only French wine in the shops 🧐.  We stopped in for a simple lunch and then headed for our next stop – staying at a villa complete with a vineyard and not far from Venice.

Soave, Italy

Bob had been recovering from a sinus infection that I apparently had acquired and I was feeling pretty wicked by the time we reached the villa – Castello de Roncade; I was concerned I would have trouble visiting Venice which has always been on my bucket list.  Luckily, after a good night’s sleep I was feeling better and we set out to navigate one of the most popular venues in Europe. 

I was a baroness for a fleeting moment

Our private garden

A rain front was coming through and we had planned a dinner at the upscale Danieli Terrazza Restaurant and had to figure out how to get dressed for a formal dinner after touring Venice in the rain🫣, but not to be daunted we carried an extra bag of clothes (wrinkle free!).  

The weather certainly didn’t seem to deter of the tourists too much, and we pushed our way through the narrow alleys and crowded bridges, the chaos supplanted by a vast array of umbrellas.  

When we finally arrived at the famous Piazza San Marco, the crowds had appeared to thin out so we took a time out for some tea that turned out to be 15 Euros a cup!!!   I guess because you can sit and enjoy the view while listening to the live band play popular movie themes.  

After I cleaned up in the hotel bathroom (a rather posh one as well) we had a lovely dinner; we were a bit disappointed that it was raining as we had hoped to sit on the terrace and watch the world go by – but no complaints, we enjoyed a fabulous meal that topped off our culinary experiences in Italy.  

We took a “water bus” back to the Pizzale Roma where the parking structure is.  Note that it is pretty simple to drive into Venice, park your car and walk into the city.  Or you can catch one of the many water buses or taxis at the dock.  The water bus takes longer but is much less expensive than taking the cool looking taxis that zoom along the canal – like those in James Bond movies. 

The water bus proved to be a revelation as we were able to see the city at night which is quite something.  You could spend days wandering around, experiencing the many hidden gems that Venice has to offer.  

The next day proved to be clear and we set out to do some shopping and also had booked a tour of the basilica and the doge’s palace.  

As we wanted to do a gondola ride (really, as touristy as it sounds it’s a great way to get a different perspective on Venice) and snagged one just off one of the canals.  They were being scooped up fast so we were glad to get one and opted for a longer ride through the back “alleys” then onto the grand canal. 

The idea of Venice is simply mesmerizing when you think of it being an ancient trading hub, and how the buildings were constructed around the concept of water.  There is a conglomeration of cultures here, a melding of Roman, middle eastern and african cultures, like an exotic spice that can’t be categorized so easily.  Venice’s cultural influences are as intricate as the filigreed facades and walkways that terminate at the water’s edge.  

Our gondolier told us that up until the bridges were built, the only way Venetians could reach their homes were by boat.  Floating by the houses we saw doors to what could only be a “water garage” – many had decayed at the bottom; there was probably no reason to replace them at this point.  

After we departed from our excursion, we headed to our tour of the basilica.  St. Mark’s Basilica is as incredible on the interior as it is on the exterior with gold mosaics reflecting a warming glow in a heavenly manner – as I suspect was intended.  The terracing of different levels is something out of a dream and to imagine the engineers who masterminded all this centuries ago is simply mind boggling.  This could have been just another European cathedral; after a while one looks much the same as the others.  But no, this is in a class all by itself; a fitting reflection of what makes Venice so unique.  

As we wound through the different levels we came to the bronze horses that were no less mystifying when you consider their scale and age.  

We finished the tour at the doge’s palace which proved to be exceptionally ornate, but not as fascinating as the basilica.  

Now that we were done with our tour, we decided to visit La Commedia where authentic Venetian masks are made…and of course picked one up.  You have to be careful as there are plenty of shops who will gladly sell you cheap knockoffs made in China.  The one we purchased is made out of paper mache with a lovely crown of feathers.  I also managed to grab a Murano glass bead necklace and bracelet.  These purchases weren’t overly expensive and came with certificates of authenticity and will be welcome reminders of the beauty and uniqueness of Venice. 

We finished the night at a restaurant recommended by Stanley Tucci’s – Searching for Italy called Osteria AI 4 Feri Stoti tucked away by one of the canals; a lovely setting to round out the day.  We had the ubiquitous Aperol Spritzer which is quite good; mixed with prosecco and sparkling water it makes for a lovely warm weather cocktail.  It is quite popular here and seeing so many folks drinking it we thought we would give it a try. We of course wound up buying a bottle of Aperol.  

The next morning we bid farewell to our stately villa and its lovely grounds, and headed out to Milan – the final stop on our tour.  

You can view our tour of Venice here:

Visual Tour of Venice

On the way to Milan we decided to visit Padua for lunch.  While not a city many would consider visiting, it turned out to have some pretty impressive cathedrals and canals.  The weather was lovely and we stopped for lunch with a fantastic view and then headed for our hotel in Milan.

Padua and really cool looking cathedrals we were able to stare at during lunch

There is a certain level of madness that comes with Italian cities such as Milan; we drove through the maze of cars and too many scooters and motorcycles until we reached the cathedral or Metropolitan Cathedral-Basilica of the Nativity of Saint Mary.  Yet another impressive structure but we decided not to enter as we hadn’t thought through booking ahead.  

Stunning cathedral with really long name in Milan

We strolled through the famous Galleria Victtorio Emanuele II, the super elegant shopping center with stores out of my price range; Gucci, Chanel what have you, they are there as installations as well as being stores. 

Coolest shopping center in the universe

Being a fashion capital Milan cannot be outdone along with tour buses galore with many visiting from Korea or Japan, their passengers dressed vogue-style. After wading through the crowds,  we shuffled off to a quiet bistro for lunch – out of the noise and constant stream of cigarettes and vaping which wasn’t doing my sinuses any favors. I was starting to feel pretty ragged and wound up spending the rest of the afternoon napping at the hotel.  

We headed out the next day for the first stage of our trip back to France via Mont Blanc and its famous tunnel that connects Italy to France. The alps and their chalets were post-card perfect, complete with alpine meadows.  The arid, clear air was a welcome relief and the landscape stimulating.  You can view the video here:

Visual tour of Mont Blanc

Arrivederci Italy!! Until next time.  

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

French Integration – Part One cont’d

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It’s amazing to think we have only been in France for a little over two months!  It started off with such a whirlwind of activity in our attempts to get ramped up quickly – driven partly by mitigating expenses related to car and gite rentals.  We had literally been all over the place in 2022; our RV trip through US and Canada including a break in Hawaii, then onto France, then onto the UK for holidays.  Though it has been a profoundly great adventure, we are looking forward to a more stationary lifestyle in 2023😍

The exciting news is we signed the sales agreement for our house!  We are hoping to take possession by the end of February or beginning of March.  The shipper has also informed us that our household goods are scheduled to be delivered at the beginning of April.  We are excited about the prospect of getting settled in🏡

In the meantime we are catching up with new friends, taking long walks, working on our french lessons including the rather involved process of getting a license, and of course further exploring our new surroundings. 

On Bob’s birthday we attended the truffle festival or “Truffle Fete”  in Sarlat.  The majority of attendees were sporting a glass of wine and partaking in the “street food” where local chefs whipped together culinary delights using the famed black truffle found in the Perigord region.  It was a cold but clear day – the French are hardy people and endured long lines and outdoor dining to enjoy this rather indulgent event.  It is a great social gathering for the area, evidenced by the groups of friends huddled around the wine barrels. 

This exploration resulted in a weekend of culinary experimentation that included fabulous omelets and linguini with white cream sauce and shaved truffle.  We of course acquired a “Truffle Shaver” that is also great for shaving hard cheeses and chocolate.  

Truffles Galore!!

I also did the very French thing of driving to the local boulangerie in St. Pompon (a small lovely village not far from us) to acquire a banquette for dinner as we wanted a fresh one (of course!!). Much of rural France shuts down on Sundays – even the major stores are only open until around noon.  Many of the smaller stores are closed on Monday as well so you have to plan accordingly.  As it was Sunday, I needed to get to the boulangerie before noon.  St. Pompon was virtuallydevoid of people when I arrived; I think the only activity is Sunday services but even that seems pretty thin.  

The French keep their Christmas lights up for the first few weeks of January and when we found ourselves driving back in the dark, we were delighted by the light festivals we encountered; the local villages take pride in the festival accomplishments!

Later in the week we ventured off to Villeneuve sur Lot  to take advantage of the bi-annual sales in France.  Here they hold them twice a year to move inventory that is marked down but not allowed to go below the price they purchased it for.  It’s not like they don’t have sales, but this is when they really blow through their inventory. 

Our realtor had referred us over to some great bilingual contacts at local appliance and furniture stores in Villeneuve sur Lot who would allow us to buy now and then ship when we get into the house.  

Since we couldn’t bring our American appliances and of course, the larger ones were out of the question, we bought a good quality washer and dryer, a small “cabinet” or upright freezer with pull out drawers!!!!! I really hated sorting through our chest freezer back in Portland…. We also bought an air fryer, food processor, LG Smart TV (a really nice one to enhance our viewing experience!) and a temporary platform bed and mattress to transfer to the gite when our stuff arrives from the US.  With the new (yet seriously old) house we are doing a much needed reboot of everything that should last us for quite a while. 

On our way back to the gite,  we drove through torrential rain that turned to slush and then to snow.  We got home just in time as the snow was just starting to stick to the back roads.  We lit the fire and watched the snow come down in an ethereal waltz.  We woke the next morning to bright blue skies and several inches of snow.  We saw the local farmers plowing the backroads as they are not managed by the transportation division who were focusing on the main roads.  

We took a delightful walk with the snow lighting up the already arresting landscape.  

We have been keeping moderately busy.  I’m still processing my surroundings; there are days when it’s clear and beautiful and I walk along the insanely quiet country trails and roads – only occasionally interrupted by a passing car.  The area is mostly deciduous, but there are copses of large beautiful pine trees, reminiscent of cedar with their draping bows.  The smell of pine permeates the air as I stroll by – reminding me of the Pacific Northwest.  

Anywhere we drive there are chateaus and farms; even on days of inclement weather, especially when the fog clings to the lowlands, we are surrounded by an other-worldly mural. It seems more like a time warp as we meander through the ancient communes, some so small they don’t even have a boulangerie!  

When we pass by crumbling buildings and walls, we often wonder how old they are and did they house farm animals?  Have these same pastures been tended for centuries?  

Then we take an alternative backroad and find ourselves approaching a thriving metropolis of grand buildings, cathedrals and cobblestone streets that beg to be explored.  Then a chateau emerges in all its glory.  

We took an afternoon to explore one such structure – Castelnaud – a huge castle harking back to the 12th century. 

We had floated by it when canoeing down the Dordogne in 2020; it is constructed at a towering height, emerging from the cliff itself.  It is a true medieval marvel complete with a museum displaying armor, weapons and the “vogue” fashion of the day.  With its sigils buffeting the wind, and the towers overlooking the breathtaking Dordogne valley, you are taken back to a time of chevaliers (knights in shining armor) and princesses.  

Spot the Chevalier!!

One of the things I love about retiring, besides the freedom, is being able to sleep in.  We are both early birds but the idea of not being on a compressed time schedule and rushing to catch the bus or light rail, and then enduring a long day at work – which then required an additional hour commute – is a blessing I embrace with gratitude daily.  

Upon reflection, when we were in the RV, we were always on the go; we could sleep in but typically had to pack up in a few hours and head out to our next destination.  Now it seems we are spending more time “putzing” around, working on our house plans, studying and attending french lessons and other items necessary for our French integration.  

It is not without its challenges as we work to enroll ourselves into the national healthcare system and work on our driving licenses, and being otherwise impatient to get into our news digs.  And we finally connected with a local bank in Bergerac; BNP Paribas who is opening up accounts for us (we were referred through an American contact we met through our network). We are still waiting, yes waiting for months, for HSBC to open our account; they hadn’t processed our paperwork from October, resulting in us having to resend the information.  We have been told that was all they needed and will let us know when it’s done being processed; they will then send the documents to the branch in Bordeaux.  Sigh.

You hear many Americans lamenting about finding a bank who will take them; the FACTA rules are such that reporting can be a burden that many reps at French banks do not want to take on.  

To further occupy our time,we have also been spending time in local cities that are not far from us to get a feel of the place; the bistros, shopping areas and green spaces that run along the many rivers.  We visited “Mr. Bricolage” which is actually the French version of Home Depot!  It’s fascinating walking through the tool sections and seeing name brands such as Stanley, Black and Decker and Ryobi, then discovering the eccentricities of how the French do things such as lots of vinyl material for making your own window blinds.  We will need to make our own fly screens here as the windows open inward so you can reach the shutters to block the light on hot days.  Our new house has some blinds installed already so we can be less reliant on the external shutters if needed; but while the French don’t mind flies in their house, we are not so accommodating!  

We hope to be in our house within the next 4-5 weeks – stay tuned!  

December 31, 2022 Recapping an Extraordinary Year 

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It has been a year since I officially retired from the workforce.  After 48 years it came as a welcome relief.  Yet, there were several challenges ahead that included selling off furniture and appliances we did not need for our relocation to France, and prepping the house for sale.  We had lived in St. John’s for 22 years in our lovingly renovated 1923 Craftsman Bungalow.  Anyone who has gone through this transition can understand the emotional ups and downs associated with relinquishing the nostalgia of time spent in a place you have dedicated so much of your life to.  

We then set out for what would be a 27,000 mile long journey through the US and Canada, all of which is chronicled on my blog.  

I have compiled a slideshow highlighting our travels:  We are often asked “what was your favorite place?”  It’s not something that can be answered easily – the national parks, monuments and sites we visited were all incomparable; they are unique unto themselves and I urge everyone to travel to as much of North America as they can.  You will realize the conundrum of that question when you see where we have been! 

One of our more significant stays was on Oahu where I was able to trace my father’s WWII legacy from the Royal Hawaiian on Waikiki Beach to Pearl Harbor:  I dedicated a special write up on my blog for those interested!  

Part of the challenge also included selling our house – we managed to close while we were on the road in Canada, signing the final papers in Fairbanks, AK right before the market started to cool down; we counted our blessings on the timing!  

At the end of September, after months of being on the road we were able to take a breather upon our return to Portland.   We had a bit of a fretful wait while waiting for our French long-stay Visas. Fortunately, we had given ourselves enough time for the French to do their processing which allowed us enough elbow room to wind down our life in the U.S.; visiting friends, family and familiar haunts…and bidding our final farewells.  

We landed in France mid-November and got ourselves settled in a gite, traversed the Dordogne until we landed on a lovely Colombage house in Lot et Garonne (about two hours from Bordeaux).  We then set out to spend the holidays with family in the UK where we celebrated and English-style Christmas with family and spent time hiking through Malvern with its beautiful priory and countryside. 

The Priory – Darwin’s daughter is buried here

We also visited famous sites such as Stratford on Avon, the home of William Shakespeare and its amazing holiday lights. 

Stratford upon Avon

Finally, on New Year’s Eve, we motored around the English countryside in Kathryn’s Mini. We ended 2022 with a traditional cream tea followed by fish and chips – wrapping up the year in an authentically British manner!

A Very British New Years🇬🇧🎆

Wishing everyone a Happy New Year and wonderful 2023!!

December 2 – December 25 Joyeux Noel from across the Pond!!

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Heading into the holiday season, we were invited to a lovely Christmas brunch by a couple Bob had met on Facebook; Cathrine is French and married to an Australian – Aiden.  We arrived at their lovely country estate north of Bergerac complete with a gate and additional parking.  It turned out to be a bit of soirée including Brits and an American couple.  Once we had our hors d’oeuvres of Foie Gras (homemade we were informed), we settled around a long table in a traditional farmhouse kitchen sporting a cavernous fireplace with a large leg of ham curing nearby to complete the effect.  Catherine had set the table with a holiday flair, including two hot plates at each end.  These “hot plates” turned out to be “raclettes” – a traditional dish from Switzerland that not only had a hot plate for grilling or warming, but a subterranean feature with small trays to add slices of cheese for melting.  Once the cheese melted – the tray is removed and the cheese oozes onto your plate a bit like a modified fondue; over bread, potatoes or whatever your heart desires.  This turned out to be an enjoyable interactive experience!  A bit like playing with your food along with great conversations. 

We bonded with Sarah and Brian (recent transplants from Los Angeles), Basil and Gil (pronounced Jill) Irish and Australian, and then two Dutch expats. 

Catherine then topped off the meal with a clever dessert of meringue covered ice cream.  

Aiden showed me around their pool area as we were collecting ideas and advice on putting a pool in our new home. 

Catherine had also offered up her services in case we needed to be bailed out of a bind; she speaks six languages!  She had been the CEO of a local textiles company and is quite the fireball.  

It turned out to be quite the lovely introduction to a new network that Bob and I were really excited about. 

A few days later we ventured to Eymet (known as a sort of British enclave) to the Saturday market.  It had gotten near freezing and I don’t know how the vendors managed to stay warm.  Eymet doesn’t just have the charming market, it also has several stores that cater to the local British population.  We picked up “back bacon” and other British goodies to add to our pantry – Bob was in his element.  We also ran into Gil which was a welcome treat as she pointed us to the British shop and butcher.  

We warmed ourselves in a local cafe with our “deux cafe au lait, sil vous plait” that are smaller portions and more flavorful than anything you can find at Starbucks.  

Classic architecture around Eymet including a wine cave

We headed back to the car (now driving our lovely Hybrid and learning how to use the eco-mode) with our bounty.  

Now that we were in a “waiting period” for until we could take possession of our house, we filled our days with daily hikes around the hood though during the days the hunters were out we proceeded with caution; they are allowed to hunt from roughly September to February on Sundays and Wednesdays. We would see them trundling down the road in their bright orange vests and also gathered out and about with their hunting dogs.  We have seen deer, they are smaller than their American brethren, and apparently wild boar is big on the menu as well as rabbit and pheasant. 

We’ve heard the shots not far from our hiking trails and it’s especially important to maintain situational awareness after lunch when they’ve had a “few” and sometimes don’t always follow the boundary rules.  When I’ve heard shots not far away I usually hoof it back to the gite.  

Hunting is also referred to as the “chasse” and they have signs posted for areas along the country roads where you can park.  There is a real problem with the increase of wild boar in this area of France and the government even comes in to reduce their numbers.  For those interested in doing game hunting, they even have special tours!  

Part of the charm of our everyday existence includes being greeted by the owners’ dogs, especially the lovely German Sheperd.  Sometimes they all show up along with the waddling goose that apparently doesn’t like to be left out of all the excitement. As we approach the gite, we joke in anticipation of our greeting committee.  

The greeting committee, a light dusting of snow, a gorgeous bird house and a Dordogne sunrise

Some mornings we hear the horses…and the donkey and even they come occasionally to greet us, especially, it seems, when the weather is sunny.  

Life in the French countryside has proven to be insanely quiet, bordering on dull if it weren’t for the surrounding beauty of the woods and countryside. This transition is proving to be somewhat of a challenge as our muscle memory is used to so much overstimulation, exacerbated by constantly being on the move, it is now at a tug-of-war; trying to reconcile unaccustomed sensory that despairs to be overloaded. 

I remind myself that this is what I had dreamed of and recount the reasons of why I am grateful for having arrived at this moment.  Things will be less tedious once we are in the new house and getting ourselves established.  

Now that we were upon the holiday season we decided to attend the Sarlat Joyeux Fete, or Christmas Festival.  The weather had dipped into the 20’s and 30’s so while the festival was gorgeous it was a bit cold.  We discovered none of the restaurants open until 7:00 – a unwritten code we finally realized which, as we remind ourselves, is appropriately European.  We finally got settled and warmed up in La Petit Bistro with pasta and duck served with a flourish of truffle and followed by a simple gateau of apple with chantilly cream and a warming glass of Armagnac – one of the most ancient and healthy aperitifs in the world.  As upscale as this sounds, it’s standard fare here and reasonably priced.  

A festive but cold Sarlat

It was a dark and clear night and the roads back to the gite were virtually deserted – we saw four cars in total on our thirty minute commute. We also discovered a very clever act of engineering in our car; the high beams come on automatically then dim when a car passes or we enter a village.  The European cars all have automatic dimming on their vehicles in general so you are not blinded by the obscene level of headlight we have experienced in US. We keep marveling at the ingenuity of this feature every time we go out after dark.  

One clear evening we stepped outside and could see the Milky Way in all its glory; the advantage of living in rural France where you have a smattering of hamlets and the larger towns are far enough away to afford you the spectacle of dark skies.  

To further occupy our time we do a fair amount of walking and working out, reading, watching TV, practicing our French and making occasional trips to the nearby villages to run errands or explore.  Fortunately Eymet has a comprehensive book store that is like a mini “Powells” where we found a bounty of used English-language books to our liking.  

We then received our forty page escrow papers….in French and thank god for Google translate!  We were able to review the docs in English and return with any questions.  So far so good. In France they do what is called a “diagnostic.”  This is essentially the same as the home inspection in the US.  It is very comprehensive and even includes the contractors they had used for termite control (as you can imagine this is an issue with these century old homes in Europe).  We can continue to use the same services.  The property taxes are obscenely low – typically less than one thousand dollars per year and the utilities are pretty reasonable.  All in all the place is in good shape with the renovations performed as recently as 2017 with a ten year guarantee.  

The only concern we have is what is called “clay swelling.”  With climate change the clay dries out during droughts and creates structural issues on homes.  While we are in an area that is vulnerable to this issue, there haven’t been any yet that have directly affected our property. The homeowners insurance now treats this as a natural disaster and there is government funding to those structures that have been severely impacted.  Otherwise we are not vulnerable to forest fires, earthquakes or floods.  

We then took advantage of the current exchange rate and got our cash funds converted to Euros so we can transfer needed funds when it comes time to sign the papers in January.  We use “Wise” to transfer our funds and it has worked great – especially since HSBC is taking interminably long to get our French bank account open.  

We finished our Christmas shopping in Sarlat, stopping by the local cafe for a warmers – and well….all the chantilly crème was irresistible.

Christmas shopping in Sarlat followed by sugar shock

On 21 December we headed to Toulouse to fly to the UK.  The Toulouse airport is second only to CDG which is great for us as we can catch flights to anywhere in Europe for cheap from there. After what seemed like several delays and train changes we made it to the UK where we will be spending the holidays in the charming Malvern Hills area.

Grogu along for the ride!

Kathryn had the house decorated sans the tree: They had delayed purchasing the Christmas Tree until we arrived so we set out the next day to the local tree lot. The trees here are incredibly lush and similar to the Norfolk Pines in the U.S.  We reminisced about earlier Christmas Tree expeditions while they were visiting in the US – though Oliver is much bigger now!  

Messing around at the Christmas tree lot

We decorated the tree with National Lampoon’s Christmas Vacation playing in the background.  It was lovely to unpack Christmas decorations that we had sent them over the years.  

Christening the tree🤶

During the week we strolled to the stores to pick up some necessities, gave the dog (Ferguson) good long walks and got ourselves settled in.  I assisted Kathryn with the Christmas dinner shopping; though the store was crowded the checkout was rather quick!  Later as we sat around the dinner table we caught up on our adventures, reverting to our familiar humorous anecdotes.

On Christmas Eve Bob and I strolled through downtown Malvern with its shops residing in old English storefronts; as the day was partly cloudy we enjoyed the accompanying views across the valley.  I helped Kathryn with the Christmas dinner prep and also mulled some wine while we spent the remainder of the day watching Christmas movies in their lovely conservatory being warmed by the fire.  

Christmas with the Family❤️

Happy Holidays!!!