Le rêve de mon père

July 2015

One summer day way back in 2015 I got it into my head that I wanted to learn French. So I booked a week’s lessons plus accommodation (with swimming pool) in the Dordogne which is not the extreme south of France but in the southern third of the country, in a little village (fewer than 1000 inhabitants) called Les Eyzies de Tayac – Sireuil. The name of the village is longer than its only street!

I flew from my home in Haarlem, the Netherlands to Bordeaux, France and rented a car for the 3-hour drive to my destination. To enter the village you cross a bridge over the Vézère river.

Let me back up a minute and tell you that I have always cherished the dream of owning property in France as a second home. For years I searched every corner of France, from the Alsace to the Pyrenees and had almost decided on the Cote d’Azur but it was too hot and too expensive. It was just after realizing that yet again I had not found my ideal location that I traveled to Les Eyzies.

As I drove over the river and got a glimpse of the town I hearly ran the cr off the bridge! I couldn’t believe it! This was it! I had found my place at last. It was love at first sight (un vrai coup de foudre). 

Two days later I was choosing between the two real estate agents the village boadted and as fortune would have it, the one I chose was a Dutchman! Sine I had had exactly one French lesson, this was pretty advantageous. He was not too keen on selling me anything, but gave me keys to the only place in my price range. Well, it was really awful. I was disappointed until suddenly I had the brilliant idea that I could build a new house! After all, it was in my genes since both my father and my uncle had built their own houses.

So I told this to the agent and he brightened right up. I have a lovely plot of land next to the house I built, he told me. We can go and see it right now. So we drove up a little winding road (road is maybe an exaggeration, it was more of a cow path) up the hill and at the very top, about two minutes from the village, we stopped. There was an old weathered board leaning against a tree which said ‘à vendre’ (for sale). I was enchanted! The view offered a panorama displaying the huge rock walls which are a characteristic of the region, and forests and hills over what seemed to me the entire country of France! Magnificent is the only word to describe it – or as my future neighbor called it, Le Paradis!

The plot turned out to be 3400 square meters. (Have you any idea how much land that is? 13 tennis courts!). And it could all be mine for a very reasonable sum. I wasted not a minute but told the agent I wanted to buy it and could I make an offer then and there. He tried to hide his glee behind his hesitant answer that he would have to consult the owner, but I knew it was in the bag.

The very next evening the agent took me to meet the owners whose property is adjacent to the terrain I was hoping to purchase. My offer was accepted and had my first taste of walnut liqueur, served to me by this charming French couple with the announcement that I was drinking my own product since the walnuts came from the 12 walnut trees on my land. I thought that was the sweetest gesture of acceptance and it was also the beginning of a wonderful friendship.