the winds of change
We set up house in the South of France a little over ten years ago. We bought a house in a minuscule hamlet in Languedoc, just outside Provence. It was a little like Martians dropping in on a small, provincial town. A Hungarian, with an Indian wife, arriving into a thoroughly rural, traditional French settlement had no precedent.
Sinsans used to have only 40 households not so long ago, M. Fournier told me after we bought his house. He was a simple guy, like most of his compatriots from the area. He had worked for Perrier, then retired, then worked part time for the Mairie (the City Hall). By the time we showed up, life had already changed significantly. This used to be a strictly agricultural region. Folks grew grapes and made wine, or had olive orchards, or goat farms, of grew vegetables for the local market. But after the war (WW2) industry started taking over in the cities and this launched a tidal wave of change. Some of the people migrating to the cities after jobs, rather than renting apartments, bought land and built their own homes. They did this in and around the villages and hamlets near the cities. Sinsans developed a ring of new, modern villas all around the core for the medieval center of town, inhabited by 'new-comers'. Another recent phenomenon, a product of the rising standard of living at the end of the century, was the invasion of retired folks from Paris and big cities, as well as from abroad, seeking refuge from inclement weather. Rather than build modern villas, they tended to buy old houses in the center of town and would renovate and upgrade them. So when we arrived in Sinsans, there were three distinct demographic layers we encountered. There were the original, old timer residents, 'France profonde'; the French newcomer villa residents working in nearby cities; and finally the well-to-do retiree community, living in the best old houses. |
The house we bought belonged to one of the prominent landowner families of the old hamlet, the Fourniers. The house was originally built at the end of the 17th century, then gradually added on to over the years. As is the case in general, the original house was built for agriculture, meaning livestock, feed, and equipment storage. Housing people was an afterthought in most cases. The Fournier family was producing wine and olives until the phylloxera scourge knocked out the French wine industry in the mid 19th century. The region had produced the lowest quality bulk wine. As they struggled to rebuild the industry, they also set their sights higher and decided to improve the region's quality and compete with Bordeaux. Alas, the Fournier family opted out of this race and got out of agriculture.
By the time we got to the hamlet Fournier had divided some of his land and built modern houses adjacent to his old one on both sides. One for his son and one for his daughter. They were both married and lived there with their families. Papa Fournier decided to retire and move to the Lozere mountain range, a bit to the North, for cooler summers and to be near his wife's family. He was just deciding this as we were looking for a house in the area. So we had the chance of buying the old house without a real estate agent, sparing the substantial fee. And we sort of inherited Fournier's son and daughter... As it turns out we developed close relations not with the children but the "children-in-law". Christophe, the daughter's husband, was a minimally educated, hard working, simple guy, with a golden heart. He helped us enormously with guiding me into the intricacies of 'bricolage', French for do-it-yourself fixing everything. He knew where to get supplies, lent me all the tools, and taught me a lot about construction related secrets. We had each other's house keys and complete trust, so I could just go and borrow things without asking. The only difficulty I had with Christophe was his deep Southern French |
dialect, very hard to get used to. We never developed the same closeness with Sylvie, the Fournier daughter.
Same story with Philippe and Sandrine in the other house. While we had a polite and civil relationship with Philippe, with Sandrine we hit it off much better. She had a part time job with the school system, but needing more income, she became our house keeper and also a good and trusted friend. We grot to rely on her completely and she was invaluable. I would send her an email about when we were scheduled to arrive, and she would be at the train station to pick us up, and the house would be heated and clean, dinner in the fridge for us. |
As we settled in, we connected with the other members of the "retiree community" in Sinsans. There was a good handful of us. There was Caillault, retired salesman of machine parts, originally from the Loire region, with a spectacularly beautiful wife, Eliane. There was Michele Buron, a super elegant, very classy lady, with a boyfriend about 25 years younger. Then there was the African/French couple, the Dupret's, from Burkina Fasso, children of missionaries who migrated back to France. And the Kneips from Luxembourg, who seemed the social center of the group.
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