Where do the French go?

In continuing to read stories and memoirs where our hero or heroine picks up their lives and moves somewhere else, which I think I'll call the Peter Mayle effect, I've begun to wonder what this is telling me.  I don't have to wonder, I know - I'd like my life to be different than it is right now. Thankfully I find escape in books and not drugs; the habit is cheaper and doesn't ruin my body or my relationships. But where would I want to go? My last post was by a Canadian woman who moved to Paris via California (Paris Letters) and my newest read is another Brit (like Peter Mayle) who moves to the Poitou-Charentes region of France - Tout Sweet by Karen Wheeler.

I think countries like France and Italy have come up with a great way to get their old run down cottages, farms, and villas renovated and boost local employment of handy men/women - get some foreigner to come in with dreams of bucolic village life, and spend a lot of money trying to achieve it.  Don't get me too wrong here, I think restoring existing buildings is wonderful. I hate seeing the clearing of land followed by brand new construction when there are abandoned properties waiting to be reused. I often wonder why some of these places aren't being used - taxes? death? squabbling families and inheritance? In Tout Sweet and The French House (see post here), the in-comer buys a home that is more hovel than habitable: no plumbing or heating, roofs that need major repairs, flooring that must be put down, walls redone and the list goes on. But they are in love with the idea of what life will be like when everything is done, and because it has turned out well they've successfully pitched the book idea to some publisher.

So where do the French go when they want to start over? I certainly haven't read any of those memoirs, or perhaps they are only available in France. Or is it a mind set of Americans or Britons who need to escape? Are the French all happy just where they are or have they found the secret to living a contented life? As for me, I know that running away from home isn't going to be my solution. Learning to be content with where I am is the challenging lesson for the day.

The Dream of a Second Home

Souvenirs of France: the tablecloth - gift
from my mother's trip to Provence,
 the eau de vie-from our exchange student.

The French House is Don Wallace's memoir about the second home that he and his wife purchased on the island of Belle Ile in the Bay of Biscay off of France's Brittany coast. After one visit to the island they were under its charm and when the opportunity of purchasing a property there came, they jumped at it. Granted the property was a real fixer upper, and they were barely making ends meet in their first home (apartment life in New York City) they decided to throw caution to the wind and make the purchase. It would be several years before they could afford to make the house habitable. I'll let you read about their adventures with builders and financing, not too mention the neighbors and the local building authorities.

Reading the book reminded me of my time spent in France as an exchange student during my high school days. The Nacel program was a four week, summertime opportunity for students to stay with a host family and be immersed in the language and culture of a foreign country. Since I was studying French in school, and my ancestors came from France that's where I choose to visit. I arrived to find my host family on vacation in Les Issambres on the Cote d'Azur. We would spend three weeks there with most of our time at the beach, swimming and windsurfing. Windsurfing was a challenge to me, I knew how to sail a sunfish but standing up on a board and holding onto the sail was a totally different experience. I finally learned to keep my balance, and could tack (mainly a sailing term I imagine), but when the area got busy with other windsurfers, I became frightened of colliding with others.

My host family were staying in the summer home of my "mom's" parents; my "father's" parent's summer place was not far off. I imagine that may be how Claude and Marie-Christine met, there at the beach seeing has his parents resided outside of Paris and her's in Fougerolles. I suppose by now that they have inherited the properties and still travel there for vacations with their children and grandchildren. That was one of the difficulties that Wallace encountered in his life in France - that properties pass down through the family and many are eagerly awaiting their inheritance.

My dream of a second house doesn't take me to France or Tuscany (Frances Mayes memoirs are another favorite of mine). I like to read about other's experiences in foreign lands but I'd like to stay closer to my own backyard so to speak. As a New Englander, I can't image living anywhere else. My dream home is one on the water somewhere - lake, river, or even an estuary. As I get closer in age to retirement, I spend more time thinking about my future second home. I dream of the day when the tuition payments are done so that I can put my income to better use. In the meantime, my husband and I can travel about the region, staying in B&Bs and researching the area where we would like to own our vacation home.