I decided not to set an early alarm on our first morning at the gite in Nivillac. My first appointment to view a house was not until 11:00 and I figured waking up at 8:00 would give us plenty of time to have petite dejeuner and perhaps go for a run. I was so tired from the travel and all the excitement and I had slept without dreaming. While I lazed about in bed, I decided it might be wise to check the distance to the first property from our little cottage. I had chosen our week-long rental in large part for its location which appeared to be central to the majority of the properties I hoped to visit. Evidently, my map skills and sense of distance were lacking. I was stunned to realize that we were 2 hours away from the first viewing. I alerted Tori, fumbled with the coffee maker and we ran out of the house 20 minutes after leaving our beds.
Our little pink car did not let us down and we arrived on time to view the first property. It was on the outskirts of the village and from the outside, it was a storybook picture. Covered in ivy with blue shutters it fulfilled every French fantasy I could conjure. The property had a large garden and a separate gite we could use for rentals. I wasn’t sure how the list price could be right when I appraised the property from the outside but once entering things became clear. It was a dark and musty space, heavily carpeted with a strange tiny kitchen in the corner of the living room that resembled one you might find at a Residence Inn. Most alarmingly, the two elderly owners were seated in the living room watching me which felt a bit awkward. There were three big bedrooms but it smelled of sadness and I knew as soon as I saw the kitchen it was not the home for me. Lesson learned. Sometimes pretty faces belie dark secrets.
We went to a second house on the outskirts of an adjacent village which was massive. Eight bedrooms, over an acre of lawns and outbuildings, and gardens. It was too big and too much work. It did not feel like a place I could live in by myself. It had started to become clear that the house I need presently may not be the rambling french country manor that I imagined my grandchildren visiting. That house has Matthew in it working alongside me, has a yard that is well suited for a garden wedding, and gites that could potentially welcome paying guests.
The third house we saw was the one that had brought me to Brittany to begin with. Located in a tiny hamlet, this stone longer was charming inside and out. I loved the gardens, the layout of the house, the spaces that could be developed, and the decor. It was the house that I could see Matthew loving, and imagine my grandchildren exploring. Tori described it as the house she could see Matthew and I living together in without outgrowing. I was torn. I loved the first house, but this was the house of my dreams. It had three big bedrooms, a free standing cottage, two further spaces that could be renovated to serve as offices or further guest accommodation, as well as the traditional dark beams and cozy living room that was anchored by a great stone hearth. It was over twice the price of the first house but this house had longevity. I saw the potential here and the realtor knew it. She kept winking at me in the same way that the realtor at the first house had. Apparently, I don’t have a poker face. I thanked her for showing me and told her I would be in touch. Before I make it sound like a Disney movie, let me explain a couple of negatives. This home was in an isolated hamlet of 4 homes located out of walking distance to a village. It was also situated next to a very fragrant chicken farm which I was assured the realtor hadn’t smelled at all before this visit. This I doubted.
As soon as I got in the car Tori asked me what my heart was telling me. I didn’t know at first. We viewed a fourth home which was hideous and on our way back to Nivillac we tried to unpack what I wanted. It was clear to me that my vision had changed. Now that my husband had landed his dream job that would keep him U.S. based for now, I wanted less not more. I wanted to feel enchanted by my home but connected to others and capable of existing on my own for stretches of time. Twenty minutes into the drive we decided I should call Matthew and discuss which I did. Twenty minutes later, we all agreed that it was not necessary to look at further large, rural properties. Those should be left for Matthew and I to select together 2-5 years from now when we are both living here full time and anticipating weddings and babies to visit.
I had found my first home in France yesterday and it was time to make an offer before the wretched 3 hour appointment with the family from Paris occurred on Friday. I drafted an email with my offer, sent it to the realtor, requested that she consider bing my first friend in France along with the offer, shut my computer and set off for a run.
When I returned from the best run I’ve had in months there was a message from the realtor. My offer was accepted. I had a home or at least was poised to begin the process of home purchase and I was overjoyed.