View from the Foothills of France

Some personal views on living, working,
bringing up family and making the dream happen in the most beautiful region of France. View from the Foothills of France also includes some personal and professional thoughts and tips on finding and buying the perfect property in the Ariège and Haute Garonne regions.

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It’s all in the detail

This is a bit of a méli-mélo or hotchpotch of a blog today because I have one snippet of information that is fascinating but useless and another which is boring but highly useful! So with which to start?

Let’s get changes to french inheritance law out of the way first which will have an important affect on Britons and non-French EU nationals. Previously (and thanks to Napoleon), everyone owning property in France was subject to France’s inheritance laws which meant that, on the death of one spouse, their half of the property was automatically passed to their children rather than to the surviving spouse. This rule was introduced to prevent children being disinherited by their parents and although the surviving spouse was allowed to continue to live in the property, he or she did not fully own it and could not sell it without agreement of the children and giving them half of the proceeds.

While this is still the case for French citizens, the European parliament has now passed a regulation which allows expats in France to dictate in a will that they want the law of the state of their nationality to apply to their estate and not French inheritance law. This, in effect, means Britons in particular can leave their estate to whoever they wish and not be bound by France’s strict inheritance rules as at present, which is great news for my clients as it takes away one of the last complications of buying property in France.

So onto something far less useful but a little more interesting: Did you know that Beethoven used to keep 60 coffee beans on his desk. Why 60? Well apparently 60 is the magical number of beans that it takes to make 7 grams of coffee – which in turn will give you the perfect shot of coffee. Of course the exact formula of coffee beans make the difference, the degree of roasting and no doubt the side of the bush that they were picked from. I have never had much time for bean counters but a cup of coffee is far more important than the bottom line (I hope my accountant isn’t reading this) and this is one theory I am certainly looking forward to trying out.

 

Give me my daily café and croissant

The smiliest bakers in the Midi-Pyrenees - in Salies du Salat, Haute Garonne

If I had a Euro for every time someone has explained to me that what they would really like is a house on the edge of a village or small town, within walking distance of a boulangerie and café, I would be able to retire. I keep thinking that I should be setting up a chain of boulangeries with attached cafés all over South West France, as there is clearly a huge demand.

This is part of the dream of living in France for many of us; the morning stroll for coffee and croissants in the sunshine. France, like everywhere, has lost many small, family run businesses that did indeed used to provide exactly this service in practically every village in the country; all down to changing lifestyles, more families where both partners work away from where they live and lack of customers thanks to the ease of just popping into a supermarket on the way home from work to stock up on just about everything.

Luckily, however, in this part of France at least, it is still possible to find small towns and villages that do still have some kind of amenities – so here you can live that dream. And things have also adapted; the local boulangeries have realized that, if their clients don’t have time to come to them, they must go to their clients. So there is now, just about everywhere, a boulangerie on wheels; a van that drives around to even the remotest hamlets delivering bread at a set time most days of the week. This is why, when you are passing through villages here, you will often seen a bag or basket hanging on a gatepost or left on a front step – this means that the owner is out at work and requires the daily bread delivery. It is a very similar system to the milkman in the UK but, in France, bread is king and the French cannot survive without a fresh baguette (or two) every day.

Hence, on my searches, uppermost in my mind is always how far my clients are going to have to travel for their daily bread, croissants and local café (they say once you have found your café, you have found your home) and the closer the better. There is a lot to be said for living in a village community where you get to meet your neighbours everyday in the bakery and also a huge advantage in being able to walk to get basic supplies. This is why places such as Aurignac, Castelnau Magnoac, St Lizier, Salies du Salat, Bagnères de Luchon, Aspet, Arbas, Castillon, Cassagnabere, Betchat, Monleon Magnoac and many others, nearly always make it to the short-list for my clients; location really is vital. And I am very pleased to say that one of my favourite villages has just announced the opening of a new village bakery/shop. This makes me think that perhaps, with the ever-increasing cost of driving and the rising number of people working from home, perhaps the tide is turning and that we are about to see the rise and rise of the village bakery, store and, of course café. I really hope that is the case.

In the meantime, I will continue to ensure that my clients are as close as possible to a place where they can enjoy a coffee, croissant and chat; spending time in the local café and boulangerie is, after all, the first and probably most important step to integrating into the local community here in the Midi-Pyrenees.

That loving feeling

I am often asked what I like best about this job and actually there are many things but one of the best aspects of being a property finder is getting to look at so many beautiful and often historic properties. I love houses, I love buildings and I love architecture so combine that with stunning scenery everywhere I cover, including the majestic peaks of the Pyrenees on the horizon as well as the chance to work with so many interesting people and it really is the perfect emploi. However, there is also an inherent danger in this; I keep falling in love with the properties I am researching for my clients. There are just so many beautiful properties in this region and most of my clients have impeccable taste in houses (of course) so I get to see some real stunners – as well of course some real horrors but that does keep things in perspective.

At present I have some really interesting ongoing searches and yesterday I saw a house that I would happily have moved into there and then. It had everything that would put it in the bracket of dream French property; hundreds of years of history, built from beautiful stone, immaculately restored, outbuildings still in their original state, south facing, numerous terraces including a roof terrace, a stunning view of the mountains, lovely garden, completely private but at the edge of a village . It even had an office in the tower exactly my size (read, small).

In such a situation I allow myself five minutes of fantasy and then step back again to become the eyes of my clients. Happily, this one ticked every box for a current search brief and, although over their budget, I have some insider information which means I know that there is a deal to be done. It is a great feeling finding the perfect house for a client, especially as this is just one of a list of eight houses meeting all their criteria that I can now show them on their imminent viewing trip.

Real life story – growing up in France

This week I am delighted to have a guest blogger. I know for many of my clients, one of their biggest worries about moving to France is how their children will cope with the upheaval. Well, it is half term here in France and so it seems an appropriate time to hear it from the horse’s mouth; the real life story of a 15 year old who moved to France when she was six. I think she has turned out fantastically – but then I might be biased as today’s excellent blog is written by my eldest daughter, uncut and unedited (just to prove that English children can keep up their written English when they move to France):

“wave bye-bye to england darling”. It was sunny but cold and windy the day that my family and I started our journey to southern France. I was six years old. My primary school teachers had got rather fed up about hearing about my moving to France, especially as we were having one of those grey and rainy disappointing English springs. They were probably very relieved to wave good bye to me on my last day. I, on the other hand, was extremely excited and only felt the tiniest pang of sadness as the white cliffs of Dover melted into the distance.

The car journey was long and boring and it was dark by the time we reached the house we would be renting until we found our own. We moved at the beginning of July and for the next few months I remember long hot days followed by stormy nights that cleared the air. I remember that it was a huge lifestyle change; my parents seemed to give me lots more freedom which, I realised later, was because there were fewer risks; it was safer. My siblings and I would disappear all day into the woods and forests only venturing home when we were hungry or to hot and wanted to go swimming. Once a week we would be forced out of our grubby shorts and have to accompany our parents round the local markets. Very often a golden “pain au chocolat” and a glass of Orangina in the cafe would have to be used as a bribe to tear us away from our dens and adventures. When the heat became too much to bear for us Notherners, along came the winter bringing frosty mornings, icy roads and occasionally snow. Finally when signs of spring started to appear and the French people decided it was time to come out of hibernation, my parents brought a house a couple of hours away. It was amazing, so much bigger than anything we had expected with even more space for us to discover but before that it was time to start French school!

The area where we rented a house had been full of English people and as a result I had been speaking English at school and had not learnt much of the French language. Our new school, hidden away in the still undiscovered (by the English at least) Ariège did not look like a school in any way, in fact it could have been someone’s house. There were only twenty children in the whole school who shared a single teacher. There were only five other pupils in my class. No one spoke a word of English. However thanks to a few gestures and simple words I soon understood the way things worked. The other children were all very nice and, as the first foreigner most of them had ever met, I was the centre of attention. A couple of them happened not live in my hamlet and very soon I was out and about on my by bike surrounded by friends. After only six months of going to school I could have a fluent conversation with a French person who wouldn’t know that French was not my mother tongue until I mentioned it.

The best things about growing up in France has definitely been all the sporting possibilities such as learning to ski, swimming, cycling, horseback riding, kayaking and so much more. I have also really enjoyed the freedom we are granted, being able to go outside and to be free to do whatever we want. I do not regret my parent’s decision to move us all out to France. It is an amazing thing to tell anyone about. My friends back in England ask me endless questions and then tell me how perfect my lifestyle sounds and how lucky I am. To that I always have the same response: I nod my head and say:”yes, I love my life!”