We moved to Normandie from a modern townhouse-condo in Harbour Pointe, Mukilteo, Washington. It was complete with walking paths, yard maintenance, and a two car garage. Now we live in very rural France. It has been quite a change, and we have enjoyed it. Yet, the reality of our rustic life is ever present.

This is the entry into our little village, after driving 0.40 miles from the narrow main road through a dairy farm. Chez nous is the one in the center.

The buildings here are over 230 years old. Though I am not sure of all of the details, the names of the buildings do shed some light on the village’s past. Ours is the Quincaillerie or Hardware Store: others are the post, the school, the bakery, the wine cellar. So it appears this was a tiny village that served the surrounding farms at sometime in its past. Though there have been many upgrades over the years, its rustic heredity still shines through.

We like to watch the British show “A Place In The Sun”. It is about Brits who want to buy a place in France, Spain, Greece, or Portugal. Often the clients look at inexpensive properties, thinking of doing the renovations. These properties are plentiful in France. It is quite easy to find homes for 50,000€, BUT they can be quite derelict, needing a lot of work. Tricia and I comment often about how we hope they know what they are getting themselves in for.

As I write this a contractor is working on the roof. It has been in a bad state of repair since before we moved here, almost eighteen months ago. They started the work a few weeks ago by erecting the scaffolding, then they left. A few weeks later they returned to remove the old roofing, then they left again.

A week or so later they came back for a couple of days and worked on the waterproof fabric and slats. (For readers unfamiliar with this type of construction, just know that it is quite different from what I knew in the US.) Then of course they left, for a couple more weeks. While we waited, there were, bien sûr, torrential rainstorms. Finally, today they are doing a bit of work, we will see how far they go. From what I hear, and read in books written by others, this is just c’est normal here in France.

We have other rustic reminders, such as our stove. It is pretty much like you might find in an RV – called a caravan by our Brit friends. Every month or so we have to take our empty butane tank to the Intermarché and exchange it for a full one. The oven pretty much is either hot or not so hot, so we adjust cooking times and watch things like a hawk; simmering is really tricky.

Hot water and showers are always exciting. The hot water heater, which is more accurately called a boiler in British English, because the water gets almost boiling hot, does not have a temperature setting, it is just hot. You must be careful when turning on the water as you can get burned.

Then to add to the excitement, we have really old pipes that are calcified. So while taking a shower, with the water nicely adjusted, the cold water will stop, and only scalding hot water comes out, yes, even if you move the handle all the way to the cold. So with head covered in shampoo, you step aside and wait for the cold to return, then rinse quickly. This is caused because someone in an adjoining unit turns their water on. We have been waiting for almost a year for this to get fixed. We are not sure what the hold up is, or what the solution is.

We have other reminders of our rustic life, like waiting for the cows to be transferred from one field to another, just as we pull off the road, or of chickens crossing the road; both of which are quite entertaining. Of course all of these critters add their own aroma to the air at times.

We have so enjoyed living here, and all of the quirks are just enhancements to what our friend Shirley calls, Notre grande aventure. We do get away to Paris and other cities often, just to remind us that there is civilization out there, yet we are so thankful to have experienced a side of life that many dream of but never get the opportunity to actually embrace.