90-Days and a Former Farm in Burgundy
As a kid growing up in Northern California, I never thought that I would even see France, let alone live there, and already for the better part of a decade. I never imagined that I would speak the language, and the idea of owning a home there was so far out of the realm of possibility that it would have been a stretch to say that it was even a dream. These past years, arriving in France, have been a life started over from zero. Turning over page after page of new milestones and new experiences, but this moment, embarking on this enormous life project, my wife and I together, certainly feels like the beginning of a new chapter.
By the end of the 90-day period spent signing documents, negotiating mortgage rates, and playing phone tag with hyper-efficient notaries, we arrived at the day of the final signature for the purchase our countryside home in disbelief. It was a process which seemed as though it would never stop putting hurdles in our way, or adding to the list of documents required. Even as the meeting progressed, I was sure that at some point someone would interject, and apologetically break the news that in fact this wasn’t going to happen after all.
As each checkpoint came, and each document read aloud, I nervously tapped Mélanie’s knee under the table - admittedly more like wild knee slapping. As the less than elegant signature pad was passed around the table, I stopped breathing for a few moments as each person signed, including myself and Mélanie. Even after all of the signatures had found their place at the end of the long 40-something page document, we all waited in silence as the system uploaded them for approval. "Final bit of suspense" the notary stated, attempting to lighten the mood as we all stared at the giant screen, waiting for the notification that all had been verified and accepted. This was a big moment in our lives.
We were now the proud owners of a countryside home, in a small village in Burgundy.
We arrived with our moving van on the first of August, already sweaty and exhausted from lugging furniture and boxes down four flights of stairs from our Paris apartment. The real estate agent arrived moments later to greet us with the keys, and a bottle of local white. "Bienvenue en Bourgogne !" she said. After two years of endless searching we had finally found our home. If I’m dreaming please let me sleep.
This was the moment to grab hold of and savor. The moment before the issues, the old plumbing systems or cracks in the walls. The unexpected issues we will certainly encounter and have to tackle. This was the moment when we were allowed to become kids again, to run from room to room, to fling open doors to every cupboard, and explore with pure joy and curiosity.
Fortunately for us, not only was the house completely to our taste, with old antiques and vintage finds, but the sellers weren’t interested in keeping nearly any of the old treasures found throughout. If we hadn’t had expressed our interest, they were headed for the donation bin. Thanks to our casual commentary on how we loved the lamps, the vintage porcelain, and the copper cookware, we arrived on move-in day with an entire house of hidden gems to hunt for.
Among our more notable discoveries:
An entire set of china made in Limoges, France
Two wooden chairs upholstered in an olive green velvet
A set of service ware for bouillabaisse, complete with giant lid adorned with ceramic red lobster
Three serving dishes which resemble different breeds of ducks
A pitcher shaped like a tomato
A grandfather clock
Lamps in all shapes and sizes
A small pack of something suspicious, which after being verified through a more knowledgeable friend, turned out to be small bullets with little to no gunpowder, used for shooting rats in the house
A cellar with a rack full of vintage wine, including two 2006 bottles of Sauternes « We don’t drink alcohol, it’s all yours. » was the comment from the seller.
Needless to say we were feeling quite lucky. I was overcome with gratitude just being alive and healthy in this place.
Now begins the next part, building our life project. Planting out the garden, fixing up the atelier-garage, taking down sheets of peeling wallpaper, tending to the pétanque court, and inviting friends and family for a glass of Burgundy’s finest in the shade of the afternoon.
Thanks to the generations before us, we have old documents to guide us. Outlines of old crop rotations, lists of plants, and black and white photos. With a little help, we can build something new, while paying homage to the past.
Amongst the moving boxes and old pottery, we can be found, in the kitchen, already workshopping ideas. Plays on classic French dishes, transformed into new concepts. The bounty grown just outside the door, served on a small plate, made by hand not far away, joined by a small cup from a local maker, filled with freshly roasted coffee. A varietal handled with care and processed to point of perfection. Ingredients which have existed for centuries, transformed into an experience, which never existed until today.
Artwork by Karoly Ferenczy, Photo taken by Benjamin Schwartz