GOURMET TRAVELLER 125
butjustasfun),wearriveinFrance.It’sspring
andthecountrysideis blooming.We’vetakenthe
precautionofbookinga placetostayforthefirst
twomonths,reckoningthatwe’dneedsomewhere
todrawbreathaftera hecticcoupleofyears.Our
basecampis a convertedstonebarnontheoutskirts
ofEymet,a once-fortifiedvillagedatingbackto
medievaltimes.About 125 kilometreseastof
Bordeaux,it hasa school,a picture-perfectsquare
withhalf-timberedhousesanda weeklymarketheld
everyThursdaysince1270.It’saboutasfarfromthe
ParisianidealofFranceasyoucanget,andthatsuits
usperfectly.Wearesurroundedbyfieldsofwheat,
sunflowers,plumtreesandgrapevines,tumbledown
barnsandruinedchâteaux.It’sa bitlikelivingina
novelbyMarcelPagnol,sanstheheartbreak.
Ourpropriétaires(landlords),IsabelleandThierry,
welcomeuswarmlytolifeontheir50-hectarefarm,
wheretheyraisegorgeousBlonded’Aquitainebeef
cattle,growcropsandgenerallyworkallhoursof
thedayandnight.Isabelle,whohaslivedinthis
areaallherlifeandknowseveryone,helpsusenrol
Eveat school(andreassuresusthatwe’llbeokay
afterthefirsttearfuldrop-off.She’sright.).
Eymetis small,butwe’reneverbored.Everyday
feelsfullofpotentialadventureandthesurrounding
region– the“PérigordPourpre”,namedforthepurple
grapesthatthrivehere,is fullofplacestodiscover.
TheprettycityofToulouseis abouttwohours’drive
away,Agenlessthananhour.Issigeac,a townso
perfectlymedievalthatit’sregularlyusedasa filmset,
is justdowntheroadandwesoonfallinlovewithits
bustlingSundaymarket.Glenmakesmultipletrips
toandfromBordeaux,pickingupfriendswhocome
tostayfromNewZealand.Livingsomewheresmall
makesit easytofeelpartofthecommunity.Wefind
a favouriteboulangerie(afterrigoroustesting)and
figureoutwhohasthebestfruitandvegetablesat the
marketinEymet.Welearntogoearly,liketheFrench,
ratherthanturnupforelevenseslikethemanyretired
Englishpeoplewhomakeupabout 25 percentofthe
population.Thesupermarketsarelesscharming,but
equallyfascinatingtoanAntipodean.I spendhours
wandering up and down aisles looking for various➤
C
ondensationpoolsaroundmyglass
astheicemeltsintoa generous
sloshofpastis.Twofanswhirr
noisily,barelystirringthehumid
early-eveningair.Theatmosphere
is tense,myfellowcardplayers
maintainingtheirbestpokerfaces
withprofessionalaplomb.Inaninstant,everything
explodes.“Uno!”mydaughtershoutstriumphantly.
“I winagain!”Sheclinksherglassagainstmine.
“Santé,Maman!”
Tellpeopleyou’reofftoliveinthesouthofFrance
andtheyprobablydon’timaginetorridgamesofUno
asthemajorsourceofpre-dinnerentertainment.
Theirideaofla viefrançaiseprobablyinvolvescopious
amountsofwine,languideveningsoncaféterraces,
hautecuisineanda certain“jenesaisquoi”.Allthese
thingscertainlyexist,butyouseethemthroughslightly
differentrose-tintedlenseswhenyoudecamptorural
Francewitha 10-year-oldintow.
InApril2019,withmyhusbandGlen,ourdaughter
Eveandthebareminimumofluggage,wewaved
goodbyetooursettledlifeinWellington,NewZealand,
andheadedoffona six-monthEuropeanadventure.
We’dthoughtaboutrunningawaytoFranceforseveral
years,butalwayschickenedoutbecausework,school
orvariousotherreasonsgotintheway.Gradually,our
excusesweakened.Ourdaughterwasinherlastyear
ofprimaryschool,I wasmakingtheswitchtopursuing
full-timefreelanceworkandmyhusbandwasready
fora breakfroma demandingroleinnewsjournalism.
Inmid-January,as hesatonthebustowork,hesent
mea text:“Thatairlinesaleendstoday.If we’regoing
todothis,we’dbetterdoit now!”Sowetooka deep
breath,bookedtickets,anddrewupanA3-sizedlist
ofThingsToDo.Someofourfriendsandfamilywere
shocked,somewereenviousandsometolduswewere
makinga terriblemistake.“Whataboutyourcareer?”
askedmyboss.“Whataboutmygranddaughter?”
wailedmymother-in-law.“Whencanwecomeand
stay?”askedourbestfriends.
Aftera weekhouse-sittingforfriendsinLondon,
a weekvisitingfamilyinEnglandanda fewdays
shivering in The Hague (cheaper than Amsterdam,
