A Clear Day in the South of France

Southwards, up and down, slaloming through the curvy country roads, we navigated the adventure sedan. Then, there really should have been some heavenly angel choir exclaiming in the backseat, we crossed the river Lot, and it feels like we are in the south of France.

My heart and lungs inhale the sunshine.

We would stop in Lectoure for lunch. The street market was just finishing when we arrived at noon. Many blocks long, with beautiful produce, backed by stylish boutiques down the main avenue…I must come back! As usual, I was only passing through, but this time I vowed to return with the express purpose of spending a day in this hilltop town, with its lively arts scene, excellent brocante market, and animal skeletons from Gallo-Roman religious practices.

Our purpose was to visit a property for sale, twenty minutes south. With a budget of slightly more than zilch, a hankering for charm, and a need for creative space and revenue, my search has been long, and visits rare. We arrived in the small village. A couple of wandering dogs noticed us, but, otherwise, nothing stirred. Known for its good restaurant, which serves summer meals under La Halle (the covered market space in the center of the village), and not for anything else, the February day, although warm and sunny, was still.

The property, right on the central place, under the arcade, fringed with a climbing rose, is charming indeed. The ground floor is currently a brocante (antiques, knick knacks) shop, with windows at the front and rear. There is even a small kitchen and toilet at the back…my thoughts clicked, registering how these would contribute to potential income. Upstairs, with a separate entrance are two high-ceilinged studio apartments. With LIGHT. I must have light. Click. Tons of space in the unfinished attic, but, how would I get centuries of dirt out of there…? It was perfect. But. The breeze rustled dead leaves as I loaded the dog in the car. The tourist season is really only about six weeks down here. That leaves 46 weeks of quiet time, maybe too much for even me. I’d probably start gnawing on my own limbs for lack of company and revenue. Saying hello is one of the great things about where I live now.

We visited Kate Hill on our way home. Known for her cooking workshops, I have admired her from afar since I came to France the first time. Even online, her pleasant nature and dedication to REAL are obvious. She was definitely so upon meeting her. She’s lived and cooked in France for over 25 years and like me, has a passion for the old ways that one can still find around here, but which will be gone in a decade, with the last of their practitioners.

The gong that resonated in my head during our conversation is how adaptable Kate has been over the years, meeting changing client interests, navigating lean times, and staying true to the general direction she wants to go. I thought, well, it’s always good to go with the flow, but one can choose which side to row the boat.

So, it was the end of the day, meeting a new friend, that gave a clue as to which side of my boat I’ll row tomorrow. I only took a couple pictures on my phone that day. I often get clues to the current of my thoughts when I look at what I noticed. I live in metaphor. Yesterday was about remembering how much I love blue sky and sunshine, that there are gateways I can see through, and the path forward is clear.