Getting used to life in a tiny French village

Getting used to life in a tiny French village

We experience the simple life in a tiny French village, the perfect mediator between the highs of travel and the daily challenges of city life

There are certain connotations associated with country life. It's either bourgeois and boring (if you embrace it) or insular and provincial (if you're born into it). Five years ago, the thought of spending several months in a tiny French village with nothing but a bakery and a corner shop would have worried me.

However, after a year on the road, it seemed like the perfect mediator between the highs of travel and the challenges of city life. And so, after a fleeting visit home, we packed our bags and moved to France for a few months.

Adjusting to life in our tiny French village was easier than I feared. Here there are fewer people, less noise, less pollution and better food. I love London, but Saint Jouin de Marnes gave a glimpse of the simple life - arguably a better life. Here's what we did in our first month here.

Woke up to this view

Every morning we wake up with this view over the village.

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Compare it to this picture I took from my balcony in London in August 2014, the day before we left on our trip around the world. Good weather makes such a difference.

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I've gotten used to the morning boulangerie run

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In London, fresh, warm bread is a treat. Here it is normal. In fact, a bakery cannot call itself a bakery (or boulangerie) unless it makes its bread from scratch. We are also told that villagers' access to bread is mandated by law.

Ate more pastries than recommended

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These things are like heaven in a box. Peter likes the mocha, but I prefer chocolate. We try to limit ourselves to one a week, but last week we had four.

Went for long rides over yellow fields

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I only learned to ride a bike properly during our year-long absence. The country roads of Saint Jouin de Marnes gave me the opportunity to drive alongside traffic, practice signaling and improve general awareness without putting my life in danger on the streets of London.

Found gifts on our windowsill

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Madame Broad lives west of us and Patrick and Sylvie live east. They often leave us presents on the windowsill. We had apricots, pears, spicy applesauce and even two huge pumpkins.

Attended a village festival

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Peter accepted the glass of cider. C’est combien? he asked, reaching for his wallet. The older gentleman waved me off and explained that the local cider was free. We spent the afternoon chatting intermittently with the locals, who kindly spoke slowly so we could understand their questions.

Purchased vegetables from 'MONSIEUR Poirot'

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Every Saturday morning “Monsieur Poirot” goes to the main square with fresh fruit and vegetables. He knows we're English so he's always commenting on the weather.

Ate outside under OUR gazebo

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Peter has a Juliet balcony in London, so eating is not possible there. Mine overlooks the A12 and is therefore only functional if you like your food with steam. We have a lovely gazebo here once you get used to the bees buzzing in the lavender bush nearby.

Charming tableaus found on every street corner

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The abbey church of Saint Jouin de Marnes is a five-minute walk down the street. Built in the 11th and 12th centuries, it is a fairytale lighthouse on our cycle trips home. We also love the house around the corner. We don't know who lives there, but we suspect it's a little old lady who might invite us for a drink if we ever meet her.

Made homemade sprinkles

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We pick grapes and apples in our backyard. Peter had the crazy idea of ​​making homemade sprinkles - something none of us had ever done before. It was delicious.

A fantastic show caught by a passing band

When I saw the posters for Nuits Romanes, I snooty expected something pantomime-like. In reality, the band put on a fantastic live performance. (Forgive my terrible camera work. I'll tell Peter not to let me near that thing.)

Danced with joy in the Anglais section

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Our nearest supermarket is a 20km round trip, which is not an easy task as we don't have a car. Our efforts on the bike were rewarded by the discovery of an 'Anglais' section into the Inter Marche. Pudding creams all around!

Tries to adapt to the locals

Well, you have to try, right?

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For a fun look at expat life in France, read A Year in the Merde by Stephen Clarke.

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