When I decided to stay in France, I deliberately chose a village where I would be the only foreigner. Or at the very least the percentage of foreigners was going to be small. Yes, it has caused me all sorts of issues, but also, and this is a big also, it has given me a unique ‘in’ into the village. And let’s not forget about improving my French.
But why?
When I went looking for a house to buy, I had certain criteria. Number 1 a garden, preferably mature. (I got a walled restoration garden instead, so old but sort of blank canvas.) Second, a small old house. The older the better. Ticked that box. It had to be in a village with the basic amenities within walking distance. Tick. And no more than 10% expats ish. The less the better.
Now I know for many choosing to live in France, or any other foreign (speaking) country, the preference is the opposite. Wanting to be amongst others who speak your own lingo. I get it. And there are certainly days I wish I had gotten it. But for me, I wanted to immerse myself in my new home. And to do this means jumping in the deep end for me.
My Village
My ancient village is about 500+ people. It has stayed between 500-600 for decades, so I guess its a number that’s meant to be. I have discovered that many are related within this number. Or at least their families have lived here for a long long time. Within my street alone are 3 brothers, 2 in the houses up the hill, 1 below, with their parents empty house sandwiched in there. And then there is a sister. She lives somewhere below my house. And the lady who sold me her fathers house, lives 2 doors up. So to say it is a close knit community, well, I am discovering just how much.
But this it turns out has been a blessing in disguise. Since most in the village seem to know each other, or at least to a degree of 2, let alone 6, word gets around. So already it feels like the majority of the people in the village know me, even if I have yet to meet them. And it makes me laugh.
Somebody Told Somebody
It’s a bit like Chinese whispers, or that game ‘telephone’. I meet someone new and they essentially already know me, except they have had a version that has made it to them. So I have morphed from a wine guide in the Loire Valley, to a guide at Chambord Castle and also as a guide in Paris. I adore the consistency of guiding, and the location, well, I do move around a lot with my job.
The village is roman in base and medieval buildings on top with the newer buildings around the edges. I live in the central walled medieval bit. There are many very ancient houses. Some done up. Some not so much. These latter sell fairly cheaply, as buying an old doer upper in France can get costly to do up, especially if hiring people. But they are slowly being bought and done up, mine included. So this means there are a few new faces about beyond mine. Though so far all still French, as far as I have ascertained.
The Only Foreigner
So what’s it like being the only foreigner in the village? In a nutshell, fun. I am like an exotic pet. People are super curious and given any opportunity they will stop and speak to me. Especially to practice their odd words of English (mostly Hello and Thank you). The fact that I am also the only [natural] redhead in the village makes me a tad noticeable. But since I am already foreign, I might as well embrace all my differences.
People have been super friendly, and super helpful. I mean over the top helpful. It may be a little ‘woman on her own’ in a foreign land – yet another difference – that brings some of the chivalry of this ancient town to the fore. But it is not just the men, the women too. I have been given lifts, food, help with my car, tools to borrow, had my rubbish/trash bins emptied, come home to find my front garden stripped of weeds, and even had some work on my house done for me, simply out of kindness.
Vive la Difference
Of course, they think I am nuts to be restoring a house on my own, whilst also working away from home. I am certain this too aids in garnering me assistance, as well as the curiosity. It has also helped that I have chosen to hire local artisans from the village for the work on my house, where I can’t do it myself. My electrician is amazing! He even helped me open up a sealed door by climbing through an opening above and drilling out the lock from the inside. I still can’t get over that. I wish I could clone him for all my other jobs.
But I think what really cemented my ‘in’ into the village was hiring my neighbours 13 year-old daughter to look after my animals whilst I am away working. It wasn’t planned this way, simply a need. But it has opened many doors for me in consequence. And bonus, she is a true treasure. My pets adore her, and for some additional fun, she has nominated herself as my translator when people don’t understand me or I them. Though she speaks no English, she is adept at understanding using different French words when I don’t understand a particular one or phrase. She has truly adopted me.
The Down Side
So is there a down side to being the only foreigner in the village? Of course, life is never perfect. Not knowing anyone when I moved here, though lonely, has it turns out aided me in opening my mouth and speaking to people, asking for help and advice. And this has also aided me amazingly in improving my French. There are days when I wish I could be readily understood or have a truly in-depth conversation with someone. I hope that day will come. In the meantime, I practise patience as well as my French.
And it’s not easy to make friends in France. And not just because I am a foreigner. I have found over the years being here that people are genuinely friendly, but cautious in developing deep friendships. Yet, as its typical to have so many relatives about, family comes before friends. It takes time to build trust, especially if you are not from the village, let alone another country.
And then there’s times when speaking only French becomes a tad overwhelming. It’s tiring speaking in another language when you are not fluent. Add in always being a curiosity, and well, that’s what front doors are for. I can close away the world for whatever quiet time I need. Until that is a neighbour comes knocking with a question, an offer of some sort or simply to check up on me. But maybe that is simply life in a small village, and has nothing to do with being its only foreigner.
PS
If you have enjoyed my musings, I hope you will consider nourishing Pumpjack & Piddlewick. Or, if preferred, check out My Shop. Here’s a taste of vintage life in France:
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