I walked through the house recently to get “before” pictures from every corner in every room, imagining that someday, the “
The time has finally come, and things started
So, here is what everybody has been asking to see. Here are photos of the house before the construction starts. Keep in mind that ALL surfaces will be redone in some way: walls, floors, ceilings, doors, windows, roof (and, of course, all new electrical, plumbing, heating). But being “redone” doesn’t mean that we are taking away the charm of the 300+ yr old house. Back then, it was common to paint over oak woodwork and paint or even cover up the ceiling beams. We hope to restore as much of the original wood as possible, blasting the paint off the beams, installing appropriate hardwood flooring to replace the hodgepodge of tile, and stripping and refinishing those painted doors and the stairway.
The house looks big but it is surprisingly small.
The front door is in sad shape and must be replaced. But we hope to keep the same style.
The entry area, with doors into living room on right, and kitchen on left. That is a narrow closet straight ahead. 
Entry closet and stairs. We plan to move the closet door back about 3 feet to open up the stairway a bit at the bottom.
This will be our kitchen.
That partial wall will be gone soon.
Looking back from within the kitchen toward the door to the entry.
Across the entry hall, this was their kitchen, but it will be our living room.
We hope to restore the fireplace that is behind that wall on the left. 
The back wall will be removed to expand the room a bit.
Through that door up the steps in the back of the living room is what we call the cave. 
We will make this cave into a combination pantry, laundry, and guest bath. It’s a long room that goes across the back of the house, so it will be accessed from both the kitchen and living room.
At the top of the stairs is a dinky bathroom. 
To the left, a nice-sized guestroom with the only working fireplace in the house. 
To the right, a large bedroom that had been divided into two rooms.
The stairs continue up to the attic. It’s spooky up there now. 
The attic is spacious and will become a large guest suite. 
When the roof is replaced, some of the supporting beams will have to be removed. We hope to keep as many as possible.
What I can’t show you is what doesn’t exist yet. We plan to build a perpendicular addition onto the house, which will become our master bedroom and bath. Fortunately, there is plenty of room for it as the backyard is massive.
The addition is shown on the plans, and here you can see how the cave goes across the back of the house. It already has an entry from the living room, so we will add a door from the kitchen so it can be used as a pantry and laundry.
So, that’s it. Now that work has begun, things are changing quickly. I will try to post often as changes are made.
Le Grand-Pressigny may be a village of only about 950 people, but it’s a busy place. Last weekend was the “La Nature
As we’d been eager to get involved in the community as much as possible, we were happy to be asked to help out with this event. On Saturday, we were part of the team that set up the booths and tents in the yard of the Gothic-style church in the village square. We considered working in the booth selling drinks, but we’re still not so quick with counting Euro coins and didn’t want to inflict our ignorance on the patrons.
The weather cooperated on Nature Day, and everyone seemed pleased with the attendance. We enjoyed catching up with our new friends and neighbors as we strolled through the assortment of crafts and plants for sale (three tomato plants went home with us). In a side tent, there were lectures on various subjects such as area wildlife, and a local man presented an interesting slide show of his travels to Antarctica. At mid-day, it was time for a wine reception and lunch from a man in a wooden caravan selling “fouées,” delicious little pita
One woman had some interesting medallion necklaces for sale. When she said something about them in French to me, I apologized and asked if she spoke any English. She smiled and said “George Clooney!” and pointed to the necklaces. It took me a minute, but I realized she was saying that the necklaces were made from recycled Nespresso coffee pods. You would never know it by looking at them – they were quite pretty. (Sorry, I’m kicking myself now for not getting a photo of them.)
Things I learned this week:
- The word “pet” in French is “animal de compagnie.” Isn’t that perfect?
- Northern France has the distinction of having towns with the longest name (Saint-Remy-en-Bouzemont-Saint-Genest-et-Isson) and the shortest name (Y).
- The entire country of France would fit in the state of Texas.
Update on renovations:
- Work is scheduled to begin on May 20th. Hallelujah!
In between opening accounts, getting established with the local doctor and filling prescriptions, joining the gym in a nearby village, navigating the country roads to explore the gorgeous area surrounding us, and meeting the locals, we have been getting to know the village that is now our home.
Château du Grand-Pressigny and its Museum of Prehistory.
Our house is on the right edge of this photo. Can you find it?
The Château du Grand-Pressigny overlooks the village and houses the Museum of Prehistory. The first château on the site was built in the 12th century and completed in the 15th and 16th centuries. The museum was built within the remains of the château and contains an extensive exhibition that emphasizes what made the region so unique during the prehistoric period, the famous Le Grand-Pressigny flint.
The new and the old were merged in the construction of the museum.
We stopped by the tourist office to pick up some maps and hiking info and happened to be walking by the pharmacy when they rolled up their metal security doors (they close from 12:15 to 2:30 for lunch). Since we were the only customers in the usually busy place, we took the opportunity to chat with the pharmacist about our medications and their availability in France. She noted what we take, and looked up the medications on her computer. She frowned apologetically and said my migraine medication was a bit expensive — it comes in packages of ten pills for €14. My dumbfounded expression needed an explanation, and I told her the same medication in the US is $65 (€58) for six pills.
Le Grand-Pressigny is a lively and active community and we are eager to become involved. We have joined the Randonées, a group of local folks who seem to easily manage a 12 km (7 mi) hike every Thursday. Bob has already been on several hikes with the group, which can be as many as 30 people, but I have to work up the stamina (and courage) to join them.
We’re anxiously awaiting the arrival of our shipment, and I have been monitoring the movement of the ship carrying our container. Today I received a notice that the ship has left the Panama Canal and is headed for Cartagena, Columbia. It is scheduled to arrive in the port of Le Havre, France, on May 22, then our container will be loaded onto a truck and driven to our wee village. We have made arrangements to use storage units recently built in a former furniture factory just down the street from the house we are renting.
The challenge of learning a new language isn’t just with the words.
As if learning the French language wasn’t perplexing enough, when you approach learning the numbering system, it can be way more baffling to learn than how to properly pronounce croissant.
So, it starts out easy enough, which gives you a false sense of hope. One, two, three: un,
21 =
21 = vingt-et-un (
But, hang in there, that’s nothing. Keep on until you get to 70, and things get just plain goofy. Instead of a word for seventy, it’s
And then there’s the periods and commas. I’m used to writing a number over 1000 with a comma: 1,000, and then using a period for the decimal, if needed: 1,000.00. In French, you use the periods and commas in reverse, so, 1,000.00 would be 1.000,00. Commas are never used to separate thousands from hundreds but sometimes spaces are used (ten thousand is written 10.000 or 10 000, never 10,000), but they are used as a mark of decimals. 1.5 in English would be written 1,5 in French. OK, I’m game. Now to get back to the rest of the numbers. See you later.
Une nouvelle langue est une nouvelle vie.
(A new language is a new life.)
Are we crazy to move to a country where we have to struggle to carry on a simple conversation, ask for directions, or even call for help? Probably. But we did it anyway. We’ve traveled enough to know how to get food ordered, ask where the bathrooms are, or how much something costs, in several languages. We are confident that we’ll be able to manage with our rudimentary French for a long while and happily will continue stumbling over our words and embarrassing ourselves with reckless abandon.
However, care must be taken when jumping into a new language. I recently told a friend what I thought said that I was excited
Fortunately, most of our language-testing experiences have gone smoother. I managed to communicate with the lady at the flower shop that we live here full-time now, that we bought a house not far from her shop, and that we are renting a house nearby in the short-term. Just that little exchange with her was an effort, but I got through it and left the shop smiling. Success!
We’ve enjoyed a few dinners at the local bar/restaurant and the proprietress, who speaks English quite well, now makes us place our orders in French. She’s very patient with us and so far we’ve managed to get our meals ordered without too much trauma.
And last night we ordered dinner from the mobile pizza oven that shows up on Thursdays. After placing our order, I sputtered out a couple of basic sentences in French to the man. I told him we were from California. He thought for a minute, and said, “Californie…est-
If it’s Thursday, it’s pizza truck time.
By the way, I know you are probably eager to see photos of our house under renovation. Me too. But our builder is on vacation and won’t be able to get started until mid-May. So stay tuned — you can be sure I will be posting lots of photos once things start happening.
Moving to a new place is always stressful. How about moving to a country where you don’t yet speak the language, know the simplest of customs, and need help with the most basic tasks, like opening a bank account? Overwhelming, yes, but we’re managing it OK, so far. However, we knew there were going to be some bumps in the road, probably more like potholes, ahead.
Case in point: several days ago we went to the Orange store in Loches, the nearest big town. Orange is the largest provider of internet, TV, and cellular service in this part of France. We needed everything: new cell phone numbers and data plans, TV programming packages, and the virtual oxygen for my life, wifi. Simple, right? Nope.
We had previously learned that the golden ticket to getting anything set up in France is your electric bill, which, back in California, was PG&E. (We even had to show two California PG&E bills to open our French bank accounts.) Here in France, the electric company is called EDF. With the help of our trusty local friend, before we arrived, we had already established an EDF account in our names for our rental house. So we trotted into Orange and produced our EDF statement showing we had an account established. No, no, no, we were told (
Fortunately for us, the nice young woman at Orange spoke excellent English so we were able to plead our pitiful case without the shame of translation. But even a common language didn’t help. We got nowhere as far as getting cell service, until she came up with the option of a temporary SIM card on a pay-as-you-go data plan. Once we have that elusive EDF bill sometime next month, we will come back and get permanent French cell numbers. OK, not ideal, but workable.
French village life:
- We have to go see the village doctor for health certificates that allow us to join the local randonée (hiking) group — they are quite serious about that.
- We will stop by the office of the Maire (Mayor) in Abilly, the next town over, to pay the small fee (about $150 for the year) to be able to use the town gym. In these small towns, the Maire’s office is where many things are handled, so maybe we’ll become familiar faces in ours. And here’s another interesting tidbit: our Maire is actually a roofer, and he will be installing our new roof when the time comes.
- We need to apply online for a card that gets us access to the “decheterie” in our village. This is where we take our excess cardboard, batteries, etc. You need a card for access to your town’s decheterie, which allows you to visit 20 times per year, and to get that card you need, guess what, an EDF bill. So one more thing we can’t do until we have received an electric bill.
Seven months after we made our offer and signed the “compromis de vente,” a commitment to buy, the old house is finally ours. A couple days ago we had our final signing, called the “acte de vente,” at the notaire’s office. A notaire is a French official authorized to oversee real estate transactions.
It was quite the occasion. Crowded into the notaire’s small office were eight of the eleven siblings who owned the house, plus the two of us, and Connie, our friend and tireless translator.
At the end of the meeting, the notaire announced that the house was now ours, and the sellers stood up, one-by-one, and handed us all their keys. It was a tender moment and I could feel tears welling up, but I managed to keep it together.
Eleven children lived with their parents in the 2 bedroom, 1 bath house for 50 years. Most of them are retired now, and all but two still live in this village of 900 people. Sitting there in that room across from these lovely, kind people, I wished I could have asked them about their childhood growing up there. I could see their emotions in passing ownership of their childhood home to us. We asked Connie to tell them thank you for selling to us, and that we would invite them to see the house when we are done with the renovations.
As is the custom here, we bought them all drinks in the local bar/restaurant after the signing. Connie was kept busy with translations in both directions as we chatted and toasted to the future. At the end of the evening, we left there knowing we had a few more new friends in our village.
We did it. Almost one year to the day after our visit to this little village in the Loire Valley, when the wheels first started turning with ideas of moving to France, we are actually here.
It wasn’t so easy. We had help. Oh sure, we did lots of research on our own, taking advantage of the many forums online full of stories (good and not so good) from people who have taken this leap before us, but sometimes you just have to go for it. Research can only do so much. We talked and talked about our plans with family and friends, and anybody else who would listen, and I’m sure we bored the heck out of some people with our talk of moving here. I’m sure some thought we wouldn’t actually go through with it.
But we had a group of people, on both sides of this equation, who believed we would really do it and were behind us 100%, stepping up to help put all things in place to make it possible to move our lives halfway around the world. We had a whole lot of things to do. Big things. Like sell our house at the right moment, and find buyers who were open to us renting back our house until we were ready to move. Our realtor, Abby Tanem with Coldwell Banker, was confident that we could sell our house quickly, and boy, was she right. She knew exactly how to put out the word that our house was available, without listing it on MLS. We had buyers before we expected it, and it all fell into place seamlessly.
We had buyers for our cars right away too. My brother bought mine, and our friends bought Bob’s car, and they were even kind enough to wait until the morning we were leaving for France to take possession of it.
In France, things started happening in preparation for our arrival. Our dear friend Connie has been our agent on the ground, stepping in as our proxy in signing the initial papers for our house purchase and helping us wade through the process of getting our French bank accounts opened and buying a car. Last week she arranged for our electricity, water and other necessary services to be started for us. We worked with our new local banker by email — and Google Translate — to get money wired into our new accounts and ready for house and car purchases. Insurance here is often obtained from your banker so he did that for us too. Our new landlords, Jim and Pauline, got busy preparing their house for us to rent for a year while ours is undergoing renovations (fingers crossed it won’t take more than a year).
We arrived two nights ago and were met on the train platform by Connie, full of hugs. Our rental house, “Les Balcons,” was made warm and welcoming and even stocked with a few groceries. Jim and Pauline greeted us and proudly showed us how much space they had cleared for some of our things to be stored when our shipment arrives.
We’ve already been invited to several social events and our calendar is filling up. Life in France has begun for us. Our new chapter has started and we can’t wait to see how it unfolds.
These past few days have been pretty hectic. We cleared out, cleaned out, donated, tossed, gifted, and hauled away as much as we could, but still felt we weren’t quite ready when that big moving truck showed up on Monday. For two full days, four men tore through our beautiful house like a tornado, wrapping and packing and reducing our possessions into 285 boxes and turning our furniture into giant molded packages — all with nifty pre-numbered and barcoded labels — and then drove it all away. Hopefully, somehow, in a couple of
We are staying in a local hotel for our last few days, busy with the tasks of closing out our lives in
Not so fun fact: nobody has window screens in France. I mean, NOBODY. And they don’t sell screening materials in their Home Depot type stores. When you ask people why they don’t have screens in their windows, they look at you like you are crazy, and ask, “why would you?” They don’t seem to mind having flies and mosquitos and birds or another flying object come through the open window. So, here we are about to move to France. We decided we should try to start a new trend in our new village. Maybe the concept will catch on. But we only bought enough screen-making supplies for our own house — they will have to find their own stuff.
Don’t get me wrong, we are prepared to embrace the ways of doing things in France. But flies are not a part of that deal.