The Search Begins in Earnest

Just two days after my arrival in the Ariege, I stopped into a real estate office in the nearby town of Tarason-sur-Ariege. In rapid fire French, two ladies peppered me with questions (even after I made it abundantly clear that I only speak a little bit of French) about what I was looking for. I completely choked on the most basic words and out came some bizarre mix of Spanish, Dutch, French and English. (I need to give this mishmash language a name like Spanederfrish). I was pretty mortified, but they were happy enough to set an appointment for later in the afternoon to see a small place with great views and a bit of land....a combination that is difficult to find for the kind of money we are able to pay.

I walked home from the encounter thinking, "If anyone ever starts feeling a little too good about himself, he should go to a foreign country on his own and try to buy a house. If he's really feeling super-human, he should come to France." It's remarkably humbling and, at times, pretty disillusioning....however; I know it will get easier and I forced myself to jump in as fast as possible.

I survived the house visit and aside from the fact that the agent asked me at least 6 times whether I liked the place, it was almost a pleasant interchange. And also the fact that she had no interest in showing me exactly where a piece of buildable land for sale was located. As we sped past, she vaguely shook her arm to the right and said something like "that piece of land you were interested in? It's somewhere up there." Oh, great. Thanks.

I wasn't blown away by the tiny house and it was pretty expensive for as much work as will be needed, but now that first home visit on my own has occurred, I can move forward. Phew! Hard work....but well rewarded with a (non) Rapture Party complete with mojitos, wine, good nibbles and the fantastic company of more of the expats I met last year.