Le Tignet – Life in our new village

I vividly remember the first morning, the “coooo coooo co” of the tourterelles (turtledoves) to begin the day. Excitedly opening the wooden shutters, the first light revealed a magnificent sky, a canvas streaked with deep orange, yellow, and red feathery wisps behind the clouds.

View from Cabris- looking over Lac Saint-Cassien

It is so calm. There is no noise other than the sounds of nature. Encircled in our garden there is no need to interact with anyone. I love the sunny winter days under the cerulean blue sky. The light is energising. You can understand why so many great artists came to paint in this region.

Le Tignet, a small village of around 3000 people west of Grasse, and its surrounding villages are truly authentic French villages.  By authentic, meaning they are relatively untouched by tourism. You have your local shops, butcher, boulangerie, tabac, and a small supermarket where everyone knows everyone else.

At the beginning: le Tignet

During our first few weeks, we were warmly welcomed by our local community. (Even though my husband is French he has lived in Australia for 30 years and identifies as an Australian. For me, even though I am born and bred Australian, I identify more with being French.)  The locals were curious why we would leave Australia to live in France. Pourquoi (Why?) they would say:

But yes”, I responded, “Of course Australia is beautiful, the beaches, the bush, the lifestyle but you have everything here as well. You are thirty minutes to the Mediterranean Sea, one and a half hours to the local mountains, the countryside is so beautiful but if you want a big city, it is only thirty minutes to Cannes. All my life I have dreamed of living in France and now we are here, living out that dream.”

Of course, all this was communicated in French. I hope it made them think and perhaps adopt a newfound appreciation for their country.

Sun Rise from our bottom garden

Schooling: Embracing the differences

We had enrolled the girls in an international school before we arrived. They were excited to start, and I am sure a bit scared as well. It was a big change for them, a new country, a new house, a new school with a new language. School in France starts and finishes much earlier and later than in Australia, so the days are long for them. Good for working parents and having some time during the day for yourself.

The other advantage is that they have a canteen serving a three-course lunch. No ham and cheese sandwiches at the French schools. The menus were even prominently displayed at the front gate so the parents could see what their children ate each day.

As the girls started in late January it was almost halfway through the French school year (their school year starts in September and finishes at the end of June). There was no real formal introduction, the girls were enrolled, and we met the Directrice on the first day. There were small classes of around sixteen students, one teacher for English and one for French. In the beginning, they did miss their old school in Australia and their friends, but they had each other and quickly made friends with the kids who could speak English. While the school purported to be an international school, most of the students were French. On one particular day, our eldest daughter came home from school and said :

Mama, Louane did a betise (something stupid) in the canteen today”. When I heard this, I thought “Oh no, what has she done! When we were all together, I said to Louane “What happened?”. She said, “There were two French boys talking at the table and they were not eating their lunch, so I told them to “be quiet and eat your lunch mateys”.

Hearing this we all fell about laughing. She also said they didn’t speak English well so they probably didn’t understand anyway. It was a relief to hear this as knowing these two co-conspirators it could have been a lot worse.

More – Sun Rise from our bottom garden

Le Tignet: Exploring our surrounds

My husband and I filled our days exploring the local villages of Cabris, Peymeinade, and Saint Cesaire and going on very long walks. We had discovered a trail app that took us on some very off-the-beaten tracks. Starting at just a small opening at the edge of a forest the air is crisp and scented with the earthy fragrance of moss and fallen leaves. The meandering pathway is narrow and covered in a carpet of pine needles.

Vibrant wildflowers peak out from the underbrush, adding some colour to the natural tapestry. As we walked deeper into the forest, we were lucky enough to stumble upon deer gracefully navigating through the trees and squirrels darting from branch to branch.

Ascending to the top of  Cabris, the track led us to the more structured paths of the Napoleonic route. Crisscrossing over the hills they look particularly challenging for one person let alone an army — a considerable feat for his Calvary.

The view from the top is magnificent. You look out over Cannes and the Lerins Islands of Iles Saint-Marguerite and Iles Saint-Honorat on one side and Lac Saint Cassien on the other.

Not all fun and games

Juxtaposed against this calm was a mountain of paperwork that needed to be completed, if we were to stay in France beyond the initial three months.

• Opening bank accounts,
• health insurance,
• accounting,
• my visa, and
• importantly the sale of part of our business were all a top priority.

There was so much to do and as my French was still limited, I needed to rely heavily on my husband as my translator for all these tasks.

Then there was the decision to buy the house and whether this was even a possibility…