For quite some time I’d entertained the idea of buying a house in or around the Dordogne region of France.
I’d spent countless hours scouring the pages of Rightmove, bookmarking properties.
Here’s the thing, when I finally arrived, I simply didn’t ‘feel’ it.
Interestingly, the apartment I had in Brive la Gailliarde was beautiful.
A circular staircase snaked upward through the centre of the building, it’s steps worn from the imprint of many footsteps that have tread upon them over many years, and quite possibly, centuries.
A Juliet balcony overhung the cobblestone street that carved its way through buildings dating back to the 17th century.
It was historically mesmerizing: but again, I didn’t feel it. Unlike my wanderings through Toulouse where the energy was intoxicating.
However rather than wallow in the disappointment, I embraced the fact that I was meant to come here and make the realization: this is simply not my place.
And that’s okay.
Yet still my love affair with France continues: it’s language, it’s people and it’s culture pull me into its melodic web.
And that sentiment shone brightly yesterday when I stopped at a street cafe for a beer after a long walk to the hostel.
Still wearing Kevin, (Daphne didn’t suit ‘him’) my faithful pack, we had to squeeze ourselves in between small, round tables and bright red chairs. I guess I could’ve just off loaded Kevin, in hindsight it may have been easier, but I didn’t think I’d be there long.
Just as I took my first sip, a group of people approached me and asked me something in French. Now having perfected my spiel, ‘l happily blurted out (and no doubt butchered, their beautiful language).
‘… ah je suis australien, et je ne parle en petit peu Français, parlez plus lentiment, s’il vous plait.
Basically I’m sorry I only speak a little French, could you please speak slowly.
There were no raised eyebrows or sly sniggers, quite the contrary. They responded by speaking perfect English with oh so sexy accents.
Funnily enough, after exchanging stories bestowing them with more of my childlike French, they said when I spoke French, for them, I soundly sexy!!! Too many Pernods perhaps?
There you go, learn a little French and cut yourself loose in France: you never know your luck 😳😳🤣.
What I found most humbling during my time with these lovely people was their kindness and willingness to help me with my French. I was also extremely touched by their praise for my apparent bravery at travelling solo.
I was touched by their praise, however I never feel my solo travels are brave.
It’s interesting to see yourself through someone else’s eyes: I would never have thought myself brave – ah c’est la vie…
So as dusk begins to ascend upon my travels and my time in Europe draws to a close, I can look back upon where I’ve left footprints.
I’m grateful for where I’ve been, who I’ve met and what I’ve achieved.
Brave? Personally I don’t think so: challenging, inspiring & humbling are words that come to mind.
So for now, I’ll spend my last few days in France enjoying the company of an old friend.
And the next chapter?
That remains unwritten…