Une maison en Bourgogne

After more than a year of house hunting in France, I am proud to say that I bought a house. 

A house with two barns. 

A house with two barns, in Burgundy.

Who do I think I am? And how in the hell is this going to work? These are just two, of thousands, of questions that I have surrounding this event.

However, I really want this to be an easy birth. Therefore I am choosing to lean into it vs. resisting and contracting. I am trying to manage a balance between considering the facts and fantasizing about a large, candlelit, atumn party, in the attached barn. I think this may also have something to do with this inexplicable urge to watch Hope Floats.

For now I am focusing on the next few steps:

1. Arrange for internet and phone. (It can take up to six months I’ve been told)
2. Make sure that the Notaire and bank are communicating and meeting their deadlines.
3. Go check out the house (the current owners are away on vacation and have given me access between now and the final signing) and assess the immediate needs for habitation (things like bedding, cookware, towels, lights, etc.). Also check to see what the owners might be taking/leaving when the sale is official.
4. Finish setting up my Paris apartment. I can't turn my back on my main squeeze, Paris.
5. Blog about this process so I have a digital record of how excited, inspired, confused, clear, nervous, and happy I am.
   

Day 2: buffet

I was super excited to post my accomplishment and wish I could say that everything went successfully today with the self assembly of my buffet.

The good news is that I did not have to buy pliers (pinces) because the grumpy man at the bricolage pulled my wooden wedgie things out with his own pliers when I showed him my mistakes in the support beams. Wow! Someone doing something helpful, it sort of reminded about the way things use to work back in the US.

I was eager to complete my project and quickly got back to work. I was reminded about how great I am at following directions. When something wasn't working, I stopped and tried to understand why rather than forcing it. One time, I simply walked away and returned later and the exact same difficult piece was miraculously cooperative. I thought about how frustrating it can be to assemble with a partner who approached things in a rushed, chaotic way and was sort of relieved that I was going it solo.

I realized very quickly why the instructions say that it takes 2 people to set this up. Flipping over the assembled piece was a challenge, but it was resolved with a large beach towel and a cardboard box support. I flipped it by myself and that was a small victory for me--proving that I can tackle a task on my own without having to stop and enlist reinforcement. That seems to be where a lot of my past projects were left incomplete.

I just wish that the hinges would have played nice. Those things are near impossible to tighten with just a phillips head screwdriver. And that is why I will buy a drill tomorrow. I figured I am going to be needing a drill a lot in the future and might as well get my own rather than relying on the Boys to supply my power tool needs.

Alas, we await tomorrow (Day 3) to finish the buffet assembly. More patience practicing.

Buffet

I finally found a white lacquer & wood buffet for the apartment in Paris. It was 50% off due to the July Soldes (Sales), which afforded me the extra cost associated with having it delivered and professionally assembled.

The good news is that it was delivered to my 2nd floor Paris apartment.

The bad news is that the delivery guy said he doesn't do assembly.

Since I bought it online, there isn't a contact number available so that I can debate this delivery error and demand a "spécialiste de l'assemblage" like I paid for.  But how hard could it be? I am a smart, capable lady. Yet here I am at 9:38pm blogging about this situation, and not actually finishing the assembly tonight like I had planned.

I made a fatal mistake in Etape No.1 (Step One). One that requires pliers to pull these little wooden wedgie things out of the incorrectly inserted holes.  I don't currently own any pliers, and bricolages are closed at this hour. In a desperate attempt to continue my momentum this evening, I took my Shu Uemura eyebrow tweezers to the situation. That obviously didn't work.

I will continue this incredible act of patience tomorrow.

 à demain...

Cimetière du Père-Lachaise - Paris

Today I ran in Père Lachaise Cemetery for the first time. I am not sure if that is a disrespectful thing to do or not. But it felt good. It was like a quiet, paved park, without kids. I no longer have a Luxemborg Gardens or a Jardin des Plantes in my neighborhood anymore. This cemetery is the closest thing to it in these parts. And I really like cemeteries, so there's that.

I found it auspicious that my playlist put Black Angels on heavy rotation.

It was surprisingly motivating to run in a cemetery. I thought a lot about not being able to run one day, and that made me feel like I shouldn't take movement for granted. Trippy stuff to think about on a run, really.

The good news is that I am really into a grey, stone, green color palette.

 And then I played a little game with myself that I like to call, "which one would I pick for me?". I thought this one suited me the best. Very Lady Stark, yet simple, with a place on top to grow kale.  Kale for visitors. No colorful flowers. Great idea.

Uphill.

Just about the only color in the place, other than green. I had to wonder why the family chose this particular one.

I hope I never find out that it is not okay to run in a cemetery. 

Medieval introduction

My mom came to visit and I introduced her to Bourgogne.  Before seeing it with her own eyes, she used to think it was bizarre that I was so drawn to a medieval village in the middle of the French (wine) country. Because I was always a "city/beach girl".

"Oh, I get it now, it's not as strange as it sounds.  I can see why you spend so much time here, it really is magical."- Mom

L'Abbaye de Fontenay church. This is where her photo-taking got out of control.

L'Abbaye de Fontenay's monks dormitory. It was designed to look like the upside down hull of a ship.

The boys were out of town, but were generous enough to share their house with us. Here is the view from the bedroom she stayed in at the boys' house. 

One of my favorite places on earth, the boys' wine cave.

Les Cave Bailly Lapierre, where you drive your car into the cave and can taste/purchase a variety of Bially Lapierre cremants. I stocked up plenty, as can be expected.

We also did some house hunting around the village. The house attached to the left of the village's back arch was one I had considered buying last year, alas did not--overpriced, with moisture issues.

La Porte Peinte center for arts, in the heart of the village. Always an inspired afternoon escape.

Mom had to take the requisite photo in the rapeseed fields of flowers.

It's not everyday that your friends parents are all in the same place at the same, time (Argentina, US, and England). Especially on Mother's day. So Carla, Julian and I threw our moms a surprise three-way Mother's Day brunch that ended in bouquets for the moms, and dancing. Pure magic.

US Contraband

My mom arrived today with the requisite US contraband. Nothing but net through customs.

Carrying her luggage on the train and through 2 metro changes was a different story, yet a small price to pay for such joy.

Pictured top, left to right: 2 goose down pillows with the life sucked out of them (using vacuum packed bags), 3 cans chipotle chilis, 2 bottles 2 bottles of Cetaphil gentle skin cleanser, dozens of packages of enchilada sauce seasoning, 2 boxes raspberry flavored Emergen-C, 2 bags black beans, bags of pepita seeds.

Tortillas

One of the things that I miss most about the US, is the food. Healthy fare and more urgently, Mexican food. I miss burritos, tacos, enchiladas, tamales, salsa and hot sauce. Whenever someone comes to visit, they usually ask me if I need anything from the US. My answer is always the same:

hot sauce
enchilada sauce
chipotles
and TORTILLAS.

It is true, you can technically buy Old El Paso tortillas at almost any grocery store in Paris. But they aren't the same. I am not sure what bizarre ingredients they include, but the flour tortillas taste like flat, doughy croissants and the corn tortillas taste like flour. So as far as I am concerned, there are no tortillas in Paris. Until now!

Yesterday I received my first shipment of homemade corn tortillas from Paris' first Tortilleria, Mil Amores Tortilleria.  Thank God for Louis Rendon from Candelaria for bringing tacos and now homemade tortillas to Paris. I have made veggie tacos and am anxious to use my last two precious cans of red enchilada sauce on a batch of spinach enchiladas. Of course fare this rare should be shared with friends. So the race is on to get my new kitchen installed so I can have the gang over for Mexican food.

I am starting to feel like Paris might have just about everything I need to live my ideal lifestyle. Well, everything except my GT's grape Kombucha and my US peeps whom I continue to miss immensely. The tortillas help to lessen that void.