LIVING IN FRANCE
Are You Seriously Thinking of Moving Abroad?
Is it really, really what you want to do? What when the novelty wears off?
Walking with the dog this morning along one of the rutted roads that crisscross the vineyards, I had the sudden sense of seeing everything for the first time. It all looked so beautiful and tranquil — the low hills of the Cevennes, the distant view of a hillside village, an olive grove — fruit not quite ready to pick.
Eleven years ago, when I first moved to this region of southern France, I saw everything as I did this morning. New and exciting. Nothing escaped my attention — a beam of winter sunshine on the honey-coloured stones of houses built long before I was born, the sense of history in narrow streets. A tray of just-baked bread set out to cool on the boulangerie windowsill, women at the weekly market, shopping baskets on their arms.
Sometimes just the brilliant light that gives the land the look of a water-colour painting. I’d never thought of taking up art as a hobby until I moved to France — it still hasn’t progressed beyond the thinking about it stage, but it’s a good thought.
