Bill retiring to Pezenas

Hello All,

I’ve just spent 2 hours trying to log on properly to this system and written a long report for you all about buying my house in Pézenas yesterday . But all is lost , I won’t criticise this arena but my little non-it brain can’t handle it any more. It’s just too much work.

Sooooo by way of an « I’m settled and OK and the 17th century house is all I hoped for and I appreciate all the help you have given me and sayonara » message, I will now cheat by copying for you on a message I recently sent to my siblings who asked me how I was. Thanks so much for your care and your kindness, and adieu.

Here it is verbatim (it is addressed to my sister, Mary, who has lived in Luxembourg these last 50 years or so, and my other sister and my brother, both in the UK):Hello Mary et.al.,



I trust you and yours are well.



Thanks for your note and yes, I have heard of and seen the cotton-reel shaped “mince pies” that Pézenas has become famous for. I must say, the town (for me a village) has been very clever over the years about adding to their attractiveness by capitalising on various, sometimes rather small and not so amazing, things to gild their lily.



The lily of course being an almost untouched circular town centre on a slight mound that had its heyday of wealth and prosperity many hundreds of years ago which allowed fine buildings to be made that would last for centuries almost untouched. It is like living in an medieval architectural museum (and at night, when the streets are deserted, the Middle Ages themselves).



The most famous gilding is the use of the fact that Moliere, when not in favour back at court, put on a few shows here and stayed a short while. Looking at the way he is promoted here one would have thought that Pézenas was his birthplace. In the summer season there are Moliere plays every single night of the week in an open-air theatre starting at nine pm after which one may sip wine and mingle with the actors still in dress and still in character. I have not tried this experience yet and the season has just ended but I have no hurry, they, and I trust I, will be here next season.



There are many Moliere statues, a Moliere park, a Moliere museum, a Moliere hotel, a Moliere cafe and countless tourist nick-nacks of varying degrees of horridness to be purchased.



Pézenas also boasts itself as a centre for art and culture. There are many “artisans” lodged here, making, for the most part, presumptuous pottery, pretty poor pictures and ugly jewellery. I do not criticise, beauty is in the eye of the beholder and who has not bought home a bottle of “delicious” Ouzo from their trip to Greece to have it standing at the back if the drinks cabinet, unopened, for the next 10 years.



So... this clever little village has been very good at adding to their already tempting environment by “inventing” or adopting other attractions. Well done Pézenas, it works. Tourists in abundance flock here in season and desert the place out of season. Suits me fine. The last two places I lived, in Japan and Sweden, were similar summer-tourist places and I enjoyed the changes of the tourist seasons as much as the climate seasons.



You ask me how things are, and many have asked me the same, and this morning, rising in the dark at 5 am I have been posing the same question to myself.



After my first marriage of 30 years at the ripe old age of 50 I suffered from what is known as “the toothbrush syndrome”. Simply put, this is the guilt of a man leaving a marriage which causes him to only wish to take his toothbrush with him and leave all else behind.



I am almost there again after having built my second “dreamhouse” in Japan, and noting that at the end of both marriages I not only abandoned the dream house but at both times was, at the end, in possession of a Land Rover and a Jaguar which I left behind (and in Sweden a sailing boat and a motor boat). So many “castles” and useless possessions.



So, on reflection this morning, I am reminding myself that my cunning plan at age 50 was, together with only my toothbrush and some of the proceeds of the sale of my 50% of my company, to retreat to a small island by myself in the Swedish archipelago and build with my own hands a small wooden, one roomed cottage in which to pass my days in solitude, fishing, shooting and planting for my dinner and walking, sailing and reading for my joy. I had planned to grow a long beard and buy a shotgun. The shotgun not just for the birds but to scare away all those who wished to visit my mini-paradise, excepting children who wanted to come and play as they, being usually very honest, would be welcome always.



Well, the best laid plans... surprisingly, mostly to myself, I fell in love again before I could even find the right island retreat and off to a new and unexpected life in Japan for 12 years. I lived in interesting times there. As one does in a new country one seems to fall in with a new “crowd”. The crowd I fell in with were very positive, cheerful, active, somewhat younger than I (my Junko being 16 years my junior) and very, very much... party animals. The Japanese not having large houses and not used to entertaining at home were delighted with the home I made in Japan which was “foreigner size” and could comfortably accommodate parties of 30 or more people, which was very often the case.



So, the would-be hermit had become the magnanimous host and such was my life in Japan. Trouble was, the host could hardly converse with his guests due to their lack of his language and his lack of ability to be able to manage much more than order food in a restaurant in theirs (despite 10 years of tutored lessons). I was limited to topping up their drinks, which I generously did, and included my own to a greater and greater degree. The slippery slope.



`nuff said on that, and so here I am again, toothbrush in hand, Land Rovers, Jags and dream houses all sold or on the market and me now, finally, as planned many years ago, on my “island” of Pézenas between the Med` and the Black Mountains of the Languedoc (which we must get used to calling Occitanie as they merged Languedoc-Roussillon with Midi-Pyrenees in 2016).



Again, for the second time, I am learning the meaninglessness of possessions, although I must admit that this time around instead of just the toothbrush I am also taking with me my library, which I have carefully accumulated over the years with the direct of objective of having a treasure-trove of words to read in the autumn of my life and also my pictures and paintings, which have no monetary value but give me much sentimental joy.



So... the cunning plan of when I was 50 years old now seems to be coming true at age 64 with but with an Asian hiccup in the middle which very nearly killed me but did provide many joyous and interesting moments.



I did my research very carefully before I decided on France and Pézenas, not least to keep my noddle from degrading by giving myself the challenge of a life in an (almost) new language and culture, but also because it seems to have everything I want and everything I need. Ancient architecture, good trout fishing, music, song and plays in season (and out), stunning countryside that begins 5 minutes from my door, a cornucopia of food (it`s still dark but 30 meters from my rented apartment window I have watched them setting up stalls since 5 this morning for what I am told is the best market in the west of France, the bio stalls are the closest and the yummiest), a good stables nearby if I should dare to get up on a horse again, a bunch of old farts (like me) who play petanque (which I enjoy) and sip pastis (which I should avoid) close by and a world of wonders within minutes and hours to explore from Spain to Paris and around the Med`.



I have bought a monocular for bird watching. I have an iPhone app` that identifies, through photos or, in the case of birdsong, sound, the various plants and birds I see and hear. My sunrise walks have become my greatest joy and they really set me up for the day.



My days just before moving in to my new little house are full of admin` and Amazon shopping for, although I have a toothbrush and veer away from possessions, I find I really might need a coffee maker, a vacuum cleaner and a bed to sleep in.



Well... enough for this morning, it`s time for my morning constitutional now and then to market to stock up on healthy food and try to avoid the scrumptious fat-making dishes they have already prepared for the lazy. I do hope they have fresh rougets today, so yummy with olive oil, garlic, fresh chilli and ancient tomatoes (not old ones of course, just as they used to grow naturally before being cultivated to be perfectly round so the robots could handle them). There`s a nice analogy... I am very happy to be a Guillaume l`ancienne.



Virtual hugs and love all around,



Will

EuroTrash

What a lovely uplifting post, Bill. It's got me feeling all warm and fuzzy inside. Thank you for sharing your well-deserved happiness.

G-J-B

Bill, it sounds like you've lived a very interesting life. You have quite the literary flair too; it certainly enticed me to read until the end. If it makes you feel any better, my wife speaks several languages fluently and spent years in Paris learning Japanese - she eventually gave up; she loved it, but it was beyond her.
I think your new venture will keep you occupied and interested over the coming years, and who knows, maybe the wanderlust can be put to rest. Thanks for posting, and if you have any future soliloquies to share, I look forward to reading them!

Helen1964

I think I’m in love.

Annetje

Join the queue please !