Plan B Makes A U-Turn

Number 9 of 9, this is the final issue in the series! Happy reading! If you’re just joining us, start with the first one here: https://wordsworthywriting.wordpress.com/2023/08/28/how-it-began-my-journey-to-make-my-dreams-a-reality/

About a year-and-a-half ago I’d found a house that I wanted to buy but I needed a job locally. Unfortunately, this town of 40,000 people didn’t really have any high-paying businesses. Top dollar for most people was $17-18/hour. There was no way I could get a loan living on a below-poverty-level income. I sought out the biggest property management company in the area to discuss a job that didn’t exist. I met with the owner for an hour and a half. They had some commercial properties but were mostly a residential management company and didn’t have a commercial property management division, yet. But they were planning on creating a position for it.  He’d keep me posted. After a couple months, I followed up. They were still reorganizing but he’d let me know. I never heard from him again.

Four days before I was to leave for Georgia I received an email from the owner of this company. They’d finally created the position and was I still interested? He sent me the job description then, later that same day, we had a video call for about an hour. I was very open with him about everything. At the end of the call he said he’d get an offer letter together to send to me. He also talked about helping me find an apartment, since that’s what they do, so I’d have a place to go when I landed. It was all coming together. 

I guess God spoke. He spoke loud and clear! So, with my tail tucked between my legs, I’m going back to the US, to Grants Pass, Oregon. While returning to my old life and not working for myself are less appealing than my French dream, at least it’s Oregon. It will definitely be better for both my dad and my dog, and truth be told, it’ll be a lot easier for me all around. I am looking forward to the new professional opportunities that come with the job, too. Not only will I be the commercial property management department, I will also start dabbling in leasing. Eventually, I’ll have to get my broker’s license to go full-on with leasing, but the 150-hour course plus an exam is definitely daunting! On top of that, I’ll be in charge of commercial business development, meaning, bringing on new clients and properties. They have properties from Ashland all the way to Bend, so opportunities abound. I love to learn and challenges keep boredom at bay so I’m kind of excited about it all. 

However, I’m still making a trip to Georgia first, because I already paid for my flight and accommodations, and because I want to and I can. I’ll post about that later.

So I’ll say goodbye. Au revoir to my dreams of living in France. Adieu to my dream of owning a B&B. Farewell to this house that I want so badly. Goodbye to the skeleton key, pull chain toilet and mail slot; all things I’ve always wanted in a house. And goodbye to the postman who delivers the mail on a bicycle (bonus). I don’t regret trying. I would have regretted it if I hadn’t. In fact, it’s been good. I reconnected with some friends, made new ones, and learned a lot about French bureaucracy. I still love France, but this experience made me a little disenchanted with it. 

More important than goodbye, I want to say Thank You. 

Thank you for the kindness of strangers and my friends in France who have been so supportive and helpful. I really couldn’t have gotten this far without you! 

To my friends who have called and messaged me, just to check on me and offer words of support and encouragement, thank you! You’ll never know how much those conversations mean to me. You are precious and I love you.

Thank you to everyone who has been reading my story. Writing helps me focus and gives me perspective, along with something to do when I’m bored. I do it for me but when others read and enjoy my written works, I’m honored! I feel truly blessed! 

To the Universe: While I don’t understand why things are happening this way, why these curves are thrown in my path, I trust in you. I’m grateful to know that there’s someone else in charge, that it doesn’t have to be all me. I’ll just keep listening to you, following my heart, and doing the best that I can. My faith in a higher power is, and always has been, what’s kept me from uglier alternatives. 

Last, but not least, I’d like to thank my partner, Scott. While we may not be a couple anymore, you’ve been my rock, my afar shoulder to cry on through all the disappointments. Despite all the changes and things going on in your own life, you’ve been there for me (and Maya), steadfast and filled with love. I am eternally grateful for you. xx

So, in the end, apparently this is not a story about how I made my dreams a reality. It’s about how it’s never too late to try because, even if it doesn’t work out, amazing experiences will be had. Now I can die without the regret of never having tried. Until that happens, the story continues. Dreams may still come true or they may not. Who knows what other twists life will bring? Something even better may come about. At the very least, I’ll have some stories to tell.

Thank you for reading. I hope you’ve enjoyed it! What did you think? I’d love to hear from you so please feel free to leave questions or comments.

Plan B

This is the eighth of nine installments in 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/ 

https://wordsworthywriting.wordpress.com/blog/

People called me brave when I announced my plans. What I think they really meant was stupid. In hindsight, that’s exactly what I was. Without having all my ducks in a row, I left the US. I got rid of 85% of my belongings with the remaining 15% of ‘stuff’ occupying a 5×5 storage space in Bend, waiting to be shipped to Europe where I planned to buy a house I’d never seen. So here I was, in an uninteresting town, in nowhere France, renting the house I wanted to buy, my entire life in limbo, and my future dependent upon one last hope bank. I didn’t know what I’d do if I was denied again. I didn’t have a long-term visa in order to stay longer and look for something else, not even in another EU country. I really didn’t know what else to do. There’s an innate fear that manifests when one is lost and that’s exactly how I felt, lost. I didn’t know where to go or what to do, and I was scared. That’s such a foreign feeling for me. I’m a decision-maker. A do-er. I don’t get scared. It actually took me a while to recognize that feeling. Wow! 

On my birthday the third and final loan rejection came. A friend texted me “Happy Birthday.” I replied, “Thanks. Is it ok to cry on my birthday?” I had so much hope and emotion wrapped up in this house. In this dream. Now the door is shut on it and I still didn’t have a Plan B. What I need is time. Time to think. Time to breathe. Time to generate an ESL student clientele and create income. Time to figure out the next step, Plan C. Or, to put it better, time to allow Plan C to reveal itself to me. While in theory I could go back to the US, I still couldn’t afford a house there and that’s the whole reason I left. Much of the rest of the world was affordable when it came to housing and overall cost of living. Plus, I have nothing to go back to. I have nowhere to go, no job, no place to live, no car, no bed, no anything. It doesn’t seem to matter where I am so why not stay abroad since it is a much lower cost of living and more central to the rest of the world?

There are a couple other factors to this equation that are weighing on me as well. One, is that I still need to get my dog from my former. While both of us would like him to keep her (she loves him way more than she loves me), it’s not something he is in a position to do. So I need to get her back. Plus, I miss her.

Two, is that I made a commitment to my sister to take our dad. He moved in with her a little over a year ago and it’s taking a toll on her. While he’s still in relatively good health and somewhat independent, at 88, dementia is creeping in and he needs to have a routine and his meals prepared for him. Plus, he’s stubborn, and she just doesn’t have the time. Once I’m settled somewhere that won’t be a problem, I’ll be in a better position to care for him and I’ll be around more. The B&B would have been a perfect situation but, now that that’s off the table, I need time. One year is exactly what I need. Soooo…

Hello Georgia! 

One can stay a year without any special visa. From everything I’ve read, it seems like a great country. I can be vegetarian/vegan without a problem, people are friendly, it’s safe and, best of all, there are mountains, rivers and, lakes! Plus it’s affordable! Not to buy a house but to live for a while without burning through my life’s savings. 

I bought a plane ticket, reserved hostel rooms, and gave myself a few weeks to get situated. Scott agreed to have a stopover in MD to get my dad on his way to bring my dog to me. I’ll meet them in Paris, we’ll spend a few days exploring the city, then fly to Georgia. Tickets were purchased, reservations made, everything was ready to go. Except for my bike. 

While it sounds simple, I was feeling angst about the whole thing. How was I going to get my bike there? Would I make enough teaching online that I’d be able to add to my savings, or would I continue to drain it? I knew it’d take a while to build up a steady client base. And where would I go in a year? I could extend the visa for a while but what after that? What about my dad? Moving him again isn’t really going to be an option. This was all still so temporary and I wanted to be settled. It’s why I left Oregon, to settle somewhere. While I’m not a religious person, I do believe in a higher power. I decided to pray. I prayed in my bedroom in Riberac. I prayed at the kitchen table. I prayed on my knees in a church in Vienna. I prayed for direction. I asked how I could serve Him. I prayed for clarification. I asked for guidance. I told God to speak to me, loudly and clearly, as I’m not good with subtleties. 

Two days after I returned from my trip to Vienna, I received an email…

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/ 

https://wordsworthywriting.wordpress.com/blog/

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. 

Everything Goes South

The third in the series about the pursuit of my dreams. Check out the first and second ones here:

https://wordsworthywriting.wordpress.com/2023/08/28/how-it-began-my-journey-to-make-my-dreams-a-reality

Dealing With the Reality of The Process

Keep in mind that there is a nine-hour time difference between Oregon and France. They are ahead so their work day finished as mine began. But I’m an early riser and would often wake at 03:00, unable to return to sleep, and check my email in case there was something from the realtor or broker needing some documents or information. Rarely was there anything. In fact, during the whole process, I found myself driving the boat, following up, asking for updates, asking what the next steps were and what would they need from me. Any request from them was responded to within minutes of my receiving the email. I was never the delay. But the broker never sent me an email before 8:00 thus it was the loss of an entire day every time she had a request. If the request was on a Friday it would be three days lost as she didn’t work on Saturdays and banks are closed on Mondays. That should have been my first clue to her incompetency.

While there was very little communication with my broker, I continued to go forward. I sold most of my stuff and the rest I put in a 5×10 storage unit. My lease expired so I moved in with my partner. I obtained a TEFL certificate so I could generate a secondary income as the B&B would not sustain me financially year-round. I continued to sell and donate items and downsize as much as possible. This was real and I had no reason to believe otherwise. 

To Alex’s (my realtor) credit, he would usually WhatsApp me if he needed something and, in the end, he would be my strongest ally. But Julia, ugh! Mid-July came and my realtor returned from vacation and inquired about the loan. I reported my latest response from her…she was talking to the bank later that day. He had also made calls to her and gotten the same non-answers. July 18th he called me and said that once I get bank papers I’m required to sit on them for 11 days; the closing date of July 29th would now be impossible. “She should know this,” he said. I sent a stern email to Julia. She promised me that everything would be ready in time. On July 20th an email was sent to Julia that the Notaire had canceled the closing date. “Please let us know when the loan would be ready so we can reschedule and remember, Ms. Kowalski and her dog would be in France, homeless, until this happens.” Suddenly, I got multiple emails from Julia requesting more documents. They were things she should have asked for much earlier, like a business plan, retirement documents (IRAs), etc. For someone who does this for a living, I can only assume she didn’t ask for these things sooner because she wasn’t actually doing her job. I would imagine she had a checklist of documents that every bank required from foreigners before they’d even consider giving them a loan. Fortunately, I was one step ahead of her and already had a business plan ready. Otherwise, it would have taken at least a week for me to throw one together, further delaying things. I emailed her everything. Of course, it was the end of her work day on Thursday, so she may or may not get to it before next week. 

On Friday I took my dog to the vet to get her health certificate. It has to be obtained no more than 10 days before travel. But the vet didn’t look at her file when I made the appointment or else they would have seen that, while she was up to date on her rabies shot, according to the EU laws, because her second rabies shot in Oct 2021 (a three-year vaccination) was more than one year past the her first rabies shot in September 2020, it was null and void and she would have to have another shot and wait 21 days. And the certificate isn’t just approved by the vet but has to go, via mail, to the state vet in Washington for final signature. She would not be able to travel with me. My heart sank. I didn’t know what to do. I knew what my bf would say. I’d already asked him to keep her because she loved him way more than she loved me and I had serious concerns about putting her on such a long flight in the heat of summer. He was soooo good to her, too, but he’d said, “No!” He was not in a position to have a dog. There was no one else that could take her because she didn’t play well with other four-legged creatures. I didn’t have a choice, I was going to have to take her to the humane society. In the end, he agreed to keep her until he could come out in October/November. 

On Monday morning, I received auto-response emails to all the ones I sent Julia on Thursday, saying that she was out on vacation through August 3. My flight to France was leaving on Wednesday, July 26th. To say I was livid was an understatement. I messaged my realtor. I wanted to fire Julia with MEA Finances and deal with the bank directly. He said no, banks will not deal with me directly.  So here it was, days before I was to leave for France and I had no place to go when I arrived, my dog was being left behind, the last of my belongings were stuck in storage in the US because I didn’t have a long term visa or an address, and I couldn’t do anything—get a car, open bank account, etc, without an address. And I can’t get an address until I get a loan. Stepping stones. Glitches. Mole hills. Part of the experience, I told myself. Stay positive. Focus on the end and just do what I can. I breathed deeply and trusted in the Universe. 

I decided to go anyway. I believed I’d be more successful there than trying to do anything from six thousand miles away. I was confident I’d be approved. I wasn’t asking for a lot of money, I had a substantial sum in my bank account, and a business plan showing me making a profit, albeit a small one, the first year. I reached out to a couple friends in France to see if I could visit for a few days until I figured out where to stay while I’m waiting for the loan. Bien sur, they said. Of course. So, on July 26th I entered PDX with my backpack, a large duffle bag with a pillow strapped to the outside, my daypack, two hats on my head, and my bike in a very large box. Visualize it. Haha! Act/speak as if it’s already done. Isn’t that what they say?  Of course, that’s never worked for me before but maybe this time?