Travel Reference
In-Depth Information
No one had heard of the wine appellations Saussignac and Bergerac but it was too late to
change our minds. A signed copy of the contract to purchase arrived. It was accompanied
by a letter stating that a previous owner, Monsieur Battistella, was due 200 litres of our
wine every year. There were two sales of the property separating us and him. We debated
contesting it but decided Monsieur Battistella might prove a useful ally. We didn't want to
land up like Jean in
Jean de Florette
; thwarted at every step by the locals. We were for-
eigners planning to settle in rural France and take on a métier that was an icon of France. It
could spell trouble.
Ifelt like Iwasinadream andwouldwakeupatanymoment. Thiswasnotwhatanormal
person like me did. It was far too risky, it was not rational, but it was also intoxicatingly
exciting.
We moved out of our home. The sale had proceeded even faster than the agent forecast.
Ellie slept and Sophia watched packing operations while Sean and I cleaned cupboards.
'Don't take my chair!' yelled Sophia as her high chair disappeared into the back of the van.
Before I could explain, she spied her polar bear going the same way and shouted: 'They're
putting Floppy on the truck!' I promised we would see the chair and Floppy at our new
house in France in a few weeks.
Sophia was a very composed young lady. I explained what we were doing again and she
nodded sagely. We had already talked about the move but she had no frame of reference
for it. She was only two and had never known anything but that house. It was our first real
home, where both ourdaughters were born,the place where we felt truly settled forthe first
time in our married lives. She knew something big was up.
Sean and I tried not to look too far ahead, focusing on moving to our rental house that
would be our home for four weeks while we worked out our notice at our respective jobs,
participated in numerous planned farewells with work and friends and held Ellie's christen-
ing. Although everything was official with the vineyard purchase, we had read that nothing
was certain until the final transaction went through, at which point we would be installed
in France with no turning back. A few hours later the moving truck, jam-packed with our
belongings, pulled away from the driveway and we locked our house for the last time. We
were leaving our friends and familiar comforts. We drove to our furnished weekly rental
armed with survival rations of clothes, baby equipment and paperwork. I choked back my
sobs. I didn't want to upset the girls but a river of sadness flowed over me. I swallowed
hard.
That evening Sophia looked worried.
'We forgot my sandpit,' she said, large tears forming in her eyes.
IassuredheritwouldbedeliveredtousinFrance.Shelookeddoubtful.Thinkingitwould
give her something concrete about where we were going, I showed her an ancient map that
included our vineyard, Château Haut Garrigue. Then we looked up the meaning of
'gar-
rigue'
: herbal scrubland populated with lavender, thyme, rosemary and scrub oak; com-
