Life lately: roadtrips around the South of France and getting my French Visa renewed
Life lately: roadtrips around the South of France and getting my French Visa renewed
Receiving permission to stay in France so I can continue reading, motorcycling, eating, and galavanting all around this enthralling piece of the globe.
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I am catching up on sharing stories after a pretty hectic few months! Before galavanting around France a little this fall, I had to submit my Visa renewal application and fees to hopefully secure another year of life and work here in the country of romantics/cheese/butter/bread.
People are shocked when I tell them that I have to ask the government for an extension every year. There’s always the assumption that marriage = the automatic right to be in a country. Unfortunately, that isn’t the case! Even while being married to a French citizen, I still have to do a ton of paperwork and go through a lengthy renewal process every fall in hopes that when December 19th comes around, I don’t have to move back to the United States. Luckily, what did change for me now that I’m married is that I could have this appointment online instead of multiple meetings in person (the biggest relief).
I am happy to say that France said oui, you can stay here a little longer. They even granted me a surprise: I have a two-year Visa headed my way!
Also, I can’t believe that my two-year anniversary of moving to France is coming up (the first week of January)! Time passes quickly when you’re learning everything from scratch, like an infant.
At the end of this writing, you’ll find an even more exciting life update related to living in this part of the world. ❥
Honoring Françoise Sagan via Vintage Car Roadtrip
Speaking of things done annually: my husband participates in one or two different roadtrips each year with the same charming group of people, all centered around collectible cars or motorcycles.
Last year I participated with shaky hands in the motorcycle-themed roadtrip where we sped around 150km of road in the mountains, hills, forests, desert, etc. for a weekend. It was maybe my fourth(?) time navigating my beloved red vintage Honda C50 and I was gripping my handle bars like my life depended on it (it did). At the beginning, I gracefully and miraculously maintained a wheelie by accident in front of everyone while going up a steep hillside, and in the final kilometers, I ran out of gas alone in the forest. I was insanely proud of myself afterward and it was a real exercise in how to shift gears properly! Another lesson on how to not die, also. This year I was a passenger in our borrowed Saab 900 (our Saab is in the garage at the moment), so I knew that I’d be able to properly enjoy the scenery this time around!
The theme of this year’s roadtrip was a tribute to author Françoise Sagan, as the weekend landed a few days before the 20th anniversary of her passing. The creator of this group is an author and devout Sagan lover, so he crafted the most thoughtful itinerary for us. Our caravan of around 30 vintage cars drove around the countryside of her birthplace, Cajarc, and our group ate in the town’s many bars and caves. There was a pitstop at a beautifully restored home/art gallery/garden space, owned by an English woman who immigrated to France decades ago. We dressed up nicely, and finished our driving on Saturday at her grave, leaving flowers and kind words as the rain began to wet our faces. She was a vintage car collector in addition to being a writer, so it felt insanely fitting to be honoring her in this way, especially all around her native countryside.
Here are some images of the roadtrip, including my cherished prop: a ‘70s English reedition of Bonjour Tristesse, which I delightfully read with lightning speed in August in preparation. I massively enjoyed reading it, and can’t wait to discover more of Sagan’s writing.
South of France’s book town, Montolieu
France has a scattering of villages dedicated solely to books, which solidifies my ambitions to be in this country for the rest of my life. Montolieu is the south’s book town, about an hour away from where I live. Jb and I set out on a Sunday to enjoy a nice lunch (full of cheese and dessert, per usual) and to hit up as many book stores as humanly possible. I told myself that I wouldn’t buy anything insanely heavy and that I would control myself. We entered the first of many stores and I immediately spotted a Max Ernst book that was easily the size of my torso. I threw my only self-induced rules out the window and had a field day.
Besides being filled with books—there are nearly 20 book shops for only 800 residents—the village had decorative statues commemorating literature, and restaurants with reading-themed names. The restaurant Chapters takes the cake for me. I think it’s a new goal of mine, understandably, to visit the other book towns all around the country. I regrettably wish I had taken more photos, but my hands and eyeballs were happy occupied!
More bits of the Basque Country
I’m happy to share BIG news: we’re moving to the Basque Country next week!!!!
If you’ve followed for a while, you’ll know that this has become my absolute favorite part of the world, and a place where Jb’s family originates/still lives. We were engaged at a castle there, and spent some wonderful time there with our close loved ones during our wedding week. We can’t wait to continue life’s excitement in those water-and-mountain-adjacent quarters, hugging the border of France and Spain. We’ll be living in a historic apartment within 30 seconds of walking distance to the beach and a sailboat port. There’s a boulangerie next door with divine chocolatines and SO many benches everywhere that will be perfect for peaceful reading and writing outdoors (something I need in order to properly self-regulate, which I have been totally lacking in our current lifestyle in Toulouse). I cannot wait to keep curiously learning the nuances of the Basque language and culture.
I also can’t believe our luck!! Will report back about life there, obviously. ❥
Other Notes:
Françoise Sagan as interviewed in The Paris Review’s The Art of Fiction.
Her manner is shy, but casual and friendly, and her gamine face crinkles easily into an attractive, rather secret smile. She wore a simple black sweater and gray skirt; if she is a vain girl the only indication of it was her high-heeled shoes, which were of elegantly worked light gray leather. She speaks in a high-pitched but quiet voice and she clearly does not enjoy being interviewed or asked to articulate in a formal way what are, to her, natural assumptions about her writing. She is sincere and helpful, but questions that are pompous or elaborate, or about personal life, or that might be interpreted as challenging her work, are liable to elicit only a simple “oui” or “non,” or “je ne sais pas—je ne sais pas du tout”—and then an amused, disconcerting smile.
France’s national post office just announced their newest stamp collection: Pâtisseries Françaises. If I could legally use these internationally, I’d send dozens more pieces of mail to friends and family back home just so that I could attach a glistening éclair au chocolat!
Le Centre Pompidou in Paris has an exhibition through January that explores— with pieces from the Musée National d'Art Moderne’s collection—the act of repetition in art. “It is all the more necessary to show how creation can also proceed by repetition, insistence, multiplication, counting, accumulation, rather than in isolated words or gestures.” Honestly, these are similar processes that I employ while learning the French language and culture! Insistence, accumulation, repetition. Art is no different from reality—repetition is how we perfect ourselves.
The oldest hardware store in France would totally make me pick up a hammer more often.
The “Exploring ___ until it’s ugly” Instagram account made a France edition. I learned from one of the comments about a ceramic tile-covered wonderland: Maison Picassiette in Chartres.
Our new apartment has two bedrooms outfitted in custom, dark-wood shelving made by the owner’s father. One room is blue and one is yellow, each as vibrantly painted as the other. Ten years ago, these colors on my walls would have made my skin crawl, but now I’m insanely excited to have rooms that remind me of Surrealist Lee Miller’s house. Think: the color of this bedroom and the painting Au lit by Édouard Vuillard (1891).
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MUXU !!!!! (Basque for “kisses”)
Kelsey Rose
What fun you’ve had! I hope that you do decide to visit all of the book towns (what a concept!) of France over time so that we can travel vicariously with you 📚💕 Best of luck with the move!
I'm ashamed to say I've never been to Montolieu, although I've read a lot about it. Someday, someday...
Now that you're married, can't you get a residency card or even dual citizenship?
And do you know where in the Basque Country? That's exciting news! I like Toulouse well enough but find it a little stifling -- I would not want to live there. My husband and I spent 4 days in Biarritz a few years back and started dreaming...but I think at this point in our lives, we'll be staying put.