Riberac: Dream vs Reality

This is the sixth installment of the series about my journey to France to make my dreams come true. You can read the first one here or follow this to see past posts. https://wordsworthywriting.wordpress.com/2023/08/28/how-it-began-my-journey-to-make-my-dreams-a-reality/ 

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Riberac: Dream vs. Reality

Through my realtor I made an appointment to see the house with the sellers to try to rent it until a loan was secured. Their English was minimal and my French dismal but we made it work. To be honest, my first impressions of the house was disappointing. In preparation for the sale, the art, rugs, mirrors, etc., had been removed. In their place now were large, faded, rectangular discolorations on the wood floors and “clean spots” on the wallpaper. The wall coverings were also torn and stained in some places or peeling at the seams. The sink in the upstairs bedroom didn’t work, the bidet leaked, pretty much everything needed some sort of attention. Not major but still… a million little things. There were a lot more repairs going to be needed than I’d anticipated. It was still very livable though, and I was excited to put my touch on the house. 

We went to their Notaire’s office where a rental document was drawn up, and we went back to the house to gather information and sign, and returned to the notaire for copies. I paid the owners 150 euros for the first months’ rent. I would also be responsible for utilities. The process took three hours but I was very grateful that they did this with me because, I am sure that left to the realtors and notaires, this would have dragged on for another week, at least.

While I knew the house was on the main street of this town of 4,000 people, and that was a positive for me, I didn’t realize how busy and noisy the street was. Not just because of town traffic, but anyone from miles around, going north or south used this road. It was the main, and only, thoroughfare for all traffic. I was disappointed that I wouldn’t be able to open the kitchen windows because of the noise, and worried about how the guests on the street side would sleep. I was also very annoyed with all the dog poop one had to dodge on the sidewalk between my place and the center. Still, for business, the location was very good; easy to find and access, and within walking distance to everything the town had to offer.

I moved into the house with little more left behind than bedroom furniture, a table and chairs, old, chipped, and mismatched dishes, some flatware and very small glasses. Not a single pot, pan, kettle, or coffee cup. I couldn’t even make a cup of tea. Because the loan wasn’t secured yet, I didn’t want to spend much money buying necessities. It was now Wednesday and I still had two days until the farmers market where I planned to buy my produce. I spent much of the day reading, A Year in Provence (Thank you, Karen!). It’s a great book, filled with beautiful and humorous writing. From the beginning, this book which was written in 1987, reflected my house-buying experience nearly 40 years later. The French government has not evolved with the times. They love their bureaucracy and paperwork!! However, it was a nice way to get me in the French mindset although I haven’t found the culinary aspect to be the same. 

Friday, finally! I woke up early and went to the market. It was massive! It encompassed an entire city block. Not just farm fresh items but clothes and household goods, and more. But the food was mostly what I was interested in. At three euros/kilo (that’s about $1.50/lb), I could buy massive, flavorful heirloom tomatoes for a fraction of the price of tasteless ones in the US, whether at the supermarket or the farmers market. The same goes for lettuce (1 euro for a massive head), carrots, radishes, aubergines, mushrooms, fresh herbs, bread, peaches, strawberries, and amazing cheeses. Homemade, herbed goat cheese for 2.80. Best goat cheese I’ve ever had! Did I mention it’s all so flavorful?!  Local honey, while not cheap, is still only 7.50 per mason jar size vs. $12+ in the US. Some things, like olives, which were comparable at 16.50/kilo but with 20 different varieties to choose from, they’re so much tastier! I cooked massive, scrumptious meals. But as delicious as my meals may have been, they would’ve been so much more enjoyable if I had a table on the terrace and someone to share them with. The loneliness is real.

I was amazed at how busy my phone had been since I arrived. Although I’ve had WhatsApp for years, my European friends rarely called me on it. Now I was receiving calls from friends in Europe and the US. I even received an invitation to a friend’s 60th Birthday party in Vienna. There was a small group of us from our early days in Vienna that have stayed in touch for the past 35 years. Over time we’ve all scattered, to Canada, US, Germany, and France. But, Vienna is where it all started and I was excited to receive the invite, which wouldn’t have happened if I was still in the US. 

Now I had to get down to business. I had an appointment at Crédit Agricole to open a bank account, which is very important for all things in France. The meeting was unsuccessful due to the lack of documents required. Ugh! Another appointment was set for the following week. It only took two appointments but I got it done. One thing completed, just ten more to go. My head was swimming. Everything in France involves so much bureaucracy: paperwork and meetings, paperwork, effort, time. So much time! There’s still the car, visa, and mortgage loan to go before I can even get a credit card, internet, hire contractors and…and…and…! It was like a tornado of all the things I needed to get done swirling in my head. For most of it, I didn’t care if I was on the French schedule, but the loan was time-sensitive and everything was dependent upon obtaining that. I didn’t have a plan B! Every day that I don’t have a loan I’m losing money. While it’s considerably less expensive here than in the US, it’s not cheap.