The Village Between Two Cities
In August, much of Paris shuts down as people leave on vacation. Many shops close for three or four weeks, while larger stores and those in tourist-heavy neighborhoods stay open. In September, everyone talks about “la rentrée” like “back to school” in the States, but here it applies to everyone. Everyone returns, shakes off the lazy rays of sunshine. Paris looks well rested, already offering its annual preview of Fall before the calendar ticks over.
September marks the return to work, school, and research. My wife and I pick up our lists of contacts, areas of interest, and alerts, and slide back into our routine: homemade bread, toasted; freshly roasted coffee; and real-estate listings.
In France, countryside listings can be fickle. Some linger unchanged for months after a home has sold. Others reappear every week with new photos and a new price.
When we finally come across something that looks exactly right, our first reaction is less “Eureka! I’ve found it!” and more “What’s wrong with it?”
Recently we stumbled across a listing, one we’d looked at several times, but this time something stood out. A location, and a price, that once felt out of reach suddenly seemed possible. The roof isn’t caving in. It’s not exactly countryside, more the edge of a small village between two small cities. It’s closer than I realized.
Could this slightly shabby stone building--built in the 17th century, enlarged in the 18th, restored in the 19th--have the makings of a home? And is there space in the garden for a coffee spot? An atelier? Is this a place people could find us? Would they hop a train from Paris for an hour to pick up homemade jams, art prints, and freshly roasted coffee?
We are rule-followers, at least we try, so we write to the village town hall with a plan outlining our concept and the approvals we might need. Dreams on paper. A collection of photos and quotes from chefs and gardeners who inspire us.
« Cet endroit, c’est un espace,
pour moi, merveilleux. Et que j’y
trouve un confort phénoménal.
J’y trouve de l’amour, j’y trouve
du bonheur, j’y trouve du bien-
être. J’y trouve des choses que je
ne trouve peut-être pas ailleurs…
Mes jardins m’on sauvé la vie. »
- Alain Passard, Arpège
"This place is a space that,
for me, is wonderful. And I find
phenomenal comfort here.
I find love here, I find
happiness here, I find well-being
here. I find things here that I
might not find elsewhere...
My gardens saved my life."
- Alain Passard, Arpège
Passard's gardens saved his life. We’re asking for a place that saves our mornings: bread, coffee, work worth sharing, a path through the beds. September invites exactly this kind of hope. We’ve put it on paper. Now we wait to see what grows.
Artwork by Benjamin Schwartz