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Before and After: Provence Style
This
is a story about before and after: how a successful Salt Lake City
realtor picked up her roots and moved to Provence to be near her
daughter and grandchildren and in the process opened a
bed-and-breakfast in the town of Pernes-les-Fontaines in near record
time.The saga of Georgia’s move
to Provence began not unlike a dream that many Francophiles harbor,
taking shape four years ago as she and her daughter, Julie, who lives
in the French Alps, were driving on the N 100 near Les Beaumettes.
"I’m going to live here," Georgia declared emphatically.
Julie, hardly taken aback, said calmly, "OK, let’s talk about it."
Less
than six months later, a week after 9/11, Georgia took a planned
bicycle trip to Tuscany and ended up reconnoitering with Julie, who had
contacted a Provencal realtor who had cased out several potential
suitable homes for consideration.
"It
was an interesting process being on the other end of the real-estate
transaction. Someone else (in this case, Lionel) was in control,"
explained Georgia. "We saw The Chicken House. The place was teeming
with fancy chickens and the owner was more concerned with making sure
we did not step on her brood than in selling the house. Then there was
the three-storey house with no kitchen, the residence of at least eight
people. To this day I have no clue how they lived there."
Following
a physically and emotionally draining second day of touring around
Provence, the two women realized that they had not seen anything
Georgia "could not live without" and were ready to call the search off,
at least temporarily. Just as that thought had surfaced, Lionel’s phone
rang: it was a call from the people selling the property destined to
become Le Lavandin.
The
three of them visited Pernes-les-Fontaines the next day and Georgia
knew intuitively that this was the place for her. For the sake of
deal-making Julie urged her to suppress her exuberance.
"Oh my God," Georgia said out loud on entering the property.
"Shh, mom," Julie warned.
They
finished the walk-through (lavender fields, fig trees, a wooded area
behind the main house, and a useable swimming pool) and it was then the
reality of a bed-and-breakfast began to take shape.
On returning to Salt Lake City, Georgia contacted a friend of hers to consider a joint venture/investment and ten days later made an offer. It was the end of October 2001. Over the next eight months Georgia made three trips to Provence to attempt to close the deal, but the bureaucracy of French realty was complicated. The first realization, much to her surprise, was that with most US housing sales the realtor makes six percent of the selling price; it appeared that this French real estate agent could make eight percent of the asking price (usually much higher than the selling price).
Then
there was the realization that the title to the property was not
actually in the names of the people selling it. Next came the news that
in order to get a bank loan Georgia had to undergo a complete physical,
including visits to un cardiologiste, un gÈnÈraliste, et un
pathologiste (who drew 12 tubes of blood to ascertain whether any
chemical imbalances existed). She wondered if a visit to un
psychiatriste might have been more valuable.
Finally,
on June 21st, 2002, the longest day of the year, "the longest closing
in French history" (according to Georgia) was concluded. For some
inexplicable, probably historical, reason sellers in France can remain
in their sold house for 15 days after closing and Georgia stayed at
arm’s length, watching from a distance as her new home was emptied.
Aside from all their possessions, both of the residents were artists,
and in addition the detritus from 20 cats and 3 dogs had to be dealt
with.
Georgia spent her fist
night in her new home in July. As she opened the door to the main house
she set off the alarm and couldn't figure out how to turn it off. She
sat outside in the bucolic French countryside, listening to the shrill
sound, laughing quietly and waiting for help from a neighbor. Once she
was alone in her empty house (she had only a bed to sleep in) she said
she felt like Julie Andrews in the opening scene of The Sound of Music.
She slept "like a log" and felt that she had "awakened in a dream."
By
October Georgia had been promised a new kitchen and an extra bathroom
in the main house; three months later nothing had been done.
Discernible work began in earnest on January 15th. When the weather
improved the workers (eight to twenty depending on need) invited
Georgia to partake of a monthly pique-nique of roasted meat, sausage,
vegetables and Marquesas, a welcome gustatory and bonding break in the
frenetic pace of reconstruction. The only major catastrophe occurred
three weeks into the project. Georgia had decided to make a guesthouse
out of the artists’ workshop and planned to move one wall of the
structure. Shortly after the wall was taken down the other three
collapsed. Georgia’s poignant image of the scene was of a Tunisian
worker dancing from foot to foot amidst the rubble shrieking, "Aiy,
aiy, aiy, aiy, aiy."
By
October Georgia had been promised a new kitchen and an extra bathroom
in the main house; three months later nothing had been done.
Discernible work began in earnest on January 15th. When the weather
improved the workers (eight to twenty depending on need) invited
Georgia to partake of a monthly pique-nique of roasted meat, sausage,
vegetables and Marquesas, a welcome gustatory and bonding break in the
frenetic pace of reconstruction. The only major catastrophe occurred
three weeks into the project. Georgia had decided to make a guesthouse
out of the artists’ workshop and planned to move one wall of the
structure. Shortly after the wall was taken down the other three
collapsed. Georgia’s poignant image of the scene was of a Tunisian
worker dancing from foot to foot amidst the rubble shrieking, "Aiy,
aiy, aiy, aiy, aiy."Four and
one half months from the beginning of construction, Le Lavandin stood
on its own, almost ready to receive visitors. Georgia, whose French was
rudimentary but improving daily, had been furnishing the house even
during construction. She outfitted her study at IKEA and realized when
she got home that amidst her purchases were the arms for a desk chair
but no chair. After several trips and letters to the store manager she
decided to confront the issue in person and ventured back to IKEA.
Showing her receipt and trying to explain in broken French she finally
got an explanation: the chair, displayed in an office vignette at the
store, had separate tags for the arms and the chair itself.
"Madame, you did not purchase the chair," said the English-speaking manager.
Another
incident ended up putting Georgia in the hands of a most mysterious
kinesthesiologiste. She had lifted something heavy that had tweaked her
back. One of the construction supervisors suggested a therapist in a
tiny nearby village. His house was difficult to find even in a small
town: there were no street names. She found the antiquated, albeit
charming, house and entered through the back door. A short man with
thick glasses held on to his head with a wool head band greeted her and
ushered her to a wooden table. It was bare, without a sheet or mattress
for comfort. Georgia lay down fully clothed on her back. The ""kine,"
who spoke little English, did something very strange: he placed three
fingers of his right hand on her thigh just above her knee and three
fingers of his left hand on her hip bone; bent his body so his buttocks
stuck out; and began a repetitive vibrating movement which lasted ten
minutes.
"Better?" asked the kine.
"Not really," said Georgia.
The
procedure was repeated and the outcome was the same. As she left the
kine refused to take her money. It was as if he was disappointed in
himself.
The
work on the bed and breakfast completed, it was time to start planning
for its opening. The first summer (2003) Le Lavindin opened to a nearly
full complement of visitors and a smattering of workshops (writing,
painting and wine tasting). It was a process that taught Georgia a lot."You
have to know things to be an innkeeper," Georgia said philosophically.
"You need to figure out the balance between the needs of your†guests
and your own. Making things run smoothly and simply takes a lot of
energy, both physical and emotional. Thinking and planning is
exhausting and you learn your own limitations. But vraiement, I've
never enjoyed anything more and have never been happier in my life."
"One
of the most interesting things," she continued, "is watching how
different people cope with travel. Some are anxious and insecure and
need guidance and specific suggestions; others just seem to wing it. I
try to provide a happy medium. I think the only reason I have been able
to do this is that I believed no one’s expectations would be any
different from mine."
Georgia
is a vivacious, energetic, self-motivated, middle-aged innkeeper with
impeccable taste. My wife Jody and I stayed with her last July for five
days and came away wanting to duplicate the bathroom in her guesthouse
at our own home. Visiting marches in Isle Sur la Sorgue with Georgia is
an experience. In her broken but improving French she meanders through
the market, talking to almost all the vendors, who dote on her to the
point of seemingly giving their wares to her at un prix special."Georgia,"
the fruitier shouts, for example, "comment va Le Lavandin?" Undoubtedly
he, like his fellow purveyors, feels†a part of the transformation of
the house into a B &B.
Another
person who watched the process was Georgia’s neighbor, who raises
sheep, squash blossoms and blette (Swiss chard), which she sells daily
in Avignon. I was never able to set eyes on her during my visit but
awakened to sheep bells early every morning. Mme P, a 76-year-old woman
who cannot abide Georgia’s imperfect French, apparently dresses the
same way every day of the year regardless of weather: wool leggings and
a wool hat. Ah, the eclecticism of Provence.
There
are two questions Georgia gets asked by her friends, many of whom
thought she was crazy to undertake the move and the remodel at Le
Lavandin.
Q: Have you ever wished you hadn’t done this?
A: I have never had a moment of despair. I think I am fairly intuitive and I see the universe as the provider of all things that happen. The minute I decided to do this everything started falling into place--the universe is overflowing with gifts and I am a most grateful and fortunate recipient.
A: I have never had a moment of despair. I think I am fairly intuitive and I see the universe as the provider of all things that happen. The minute I decided to do this everything started falling into place--the universe is overflowing with gifts and I am a most grateful and fortunate recipient.
Q: Is there a man in our life?
A: No and right now I have neither time nor interest.
A: No and right now I have neither time nor interest.
From
my observations in our walk through the market I think she is both
right and wrong. She has no time, perhaps no interest either, but there
are and will be many men in her life.
Visit Le Lavandin's site: http://www.lelavandinprovence.com
Visit Le Lavandin's site: http://www.lelavandinprovence.com
--
Louis Borgenicht is a pediatrician/writer living in SLC, Utah. He's the co-author, with his son Joe, of The Baby Owner's Manual: Operating Instructions, Trouble-Shooting Tips, and Advice on First-Year Maintenance.
Louis Borgenicht is a pediatrician/writer living in SLC, Utah. He's the co-author, with his son Joe, of The Baby Owner's Manual: Operating Instructions, Trouble-Shooting Tips, and Advice on First-Year Maintenance.
