long journey

Monday another public holiday. Tuesday last house viewings in Carhaix and then Rosproden. Wednesday said goodbye to the cottage at 06.00. Thirteen hours - and 950 kilometres – later, I was in Brussels. I stopped for lunch (of bread and salami) at Verneuil sur Avre on the basis that this, I think, was where I stayed with a French family when I was about 15. A superb example of a French medieval town.

last few days

Sunday also wet - and had good chat with Mark and Ronnie who had bought the large property and land for more than 200 k a few years back and then had to bring all the buildings back to life. Mark mentioned how many English were returning home – many to be with grandchildren - as I had experienced in La Gacilly. The idea of a long-term let in the area makes more and more sense – although it doesn’t solve the issue of how best to invest my capital; nor ensure access to French health facilities.
Decided to check out the cafe bookshop in the forest just outside Huelgoat (l’Autre Rive). Reminded me of UK left-wing bookshops of 1970s. Found there the Gallimard Guide to south Finistere (Encyclopedies du Voyage) which I had been looking for. Also a 2nd hand translated edition of DM Thomas’ The Fluteplayer”. And some nice small-run local editions of poetry and pictures – on beautiful paper - which inspires me to think of a Romanian edition of my blog.
Then on to Morlaix – through a deep, boring forest. And Morlaix not all that interesting. The run down to Pleyben was across the spine – with superb views. And easily found the Vert Depot

late update

Saturday dawned wet and reckoned this was the day to see Carhaix – 20 minute drive back east. It seems in fact the most liveable of all the settlements I have seen – with medieval touches and some nice glimpses of countryside from its hilltop position. House prices seem good – although the English in evidence through voices and newspapers in shop. Booked in to 2 agencies for Monday. The literature in the tourist agency the best yet – for the Poher region.
Then on to Park I agency (Josiane) in Rosporden which has the TGV and is only 12 kms from sea – the first 2 modern houses being well designed – although overpriced at 143 and 128 respectively. Garden at first was great.
The notaires’ system somewhat redeemed their reputation – by the Rosporden guy showing me 2 fascinating houses right in the centre – smaller one for 117,000 (conservatory added at back to make its sitting room, 2 bedrooms and large office space in grenier) and then a 3 level period house for 125,000 et un jardin sauvage. Price low because (original) windows need double glazing. The guy who received us was dignified, open but a bit brittle. He had had the house for 6 years and the agent told me later that he was leaving because of a divorce. Ideal but for the 3 levels – and the house starting basically on first level. Obviously taxes are higher – perhaps 300 more so.

Even after 10 years living in Finistere, people apparently still discover new places – and I can believe this after the last few days. The tourist information centres are an impressive feature – ensuring that local history and geolo/graph/y are properly celebrated. You have the feeling that you could never be bored. Although there has been criticism of the role of the English in inflating house prices, we should never forget the role they played in restoring old houses – adding to the supply as well as the demand. Someone has surely done a study of their net effect? Probably a thesis hidden away in a university library!

Friday drove the short distance to Huelgoat which is very picturesque and very...English! Enough said.
Le Faou is the estuary and had the smell of the sea.
Brasseparts tourist centre has an edge – only one so far with an internet connection for 1 euro an hour
Discovered that Port Aulnay was vision on my retina from 1999. Popped in to Jenny and Kevin to share my thoughts. They mentioned an interesting decision tool which involves listing all the desiderata – and then scoring each against the others. Sounds intriguing.

the issue

Had to evict a toad from the house on Thursday morning as I continued to muse about the house decision. Now it has become an issue more of principle than specific house. Should I be spending this amount of money on a house which will effectively take me away from my Sirnea house? Should we rather not be renting houses on long-term bases until we are really sure

house musings

Wednesday morning I wrote and read. McEwan’s Saturday is quite amazing in its language as its neuro-surgeon muses during his operations, encounters, squash and family meeting. Until now I had regarded this writer as two dimensional as dimensional as the rest of English writers.
I took the back route to nearby Pleyben which I found to have a glorious church and ornate monumental calgaire. And, again, a great tourist information centre – with aesthetic and informative booklets on the area. Even Plonevez has such a centre – each having 3 staff. Quite a contribution to the area’s economy!
Arranged to see some houses in the vicinity – to get some terms of comparison now that it is clear that this is the most appropriate area. Mid afternoon, the weather break which had been signalling arrived with a vengeance with heavy dark skies and rain.
Daniela phoned to point out that, with her mum’s death, we now have 3 residences in Romania; that she may well return to work in Bucharest and that perhaps therefore we should simply take long lets of houses in places such as Brittany rather than divest ourselves of 25% of our capital. It’s an important observation and makes me redo my calculus. A Finistere location offers the advantage of closer family contact (and the Plonevez house is ideal for guests): access to the seascape and language I love; to French medical facilities and to the UK.
But its distance from Romania (5 day drive) does threaten life with Daniela; use of Sirnea to which I am so attached; and my capital. And yet I have always said that I need to do something with my money – but what if I wanted to resell and couldn’t? A lot of houses are on the market at the moment; the village is not exactly the most beautiful; and who can predict what will happen to the euro and the European economy?
Basically we need a reasonably-sized house we can live in during the cold winter period. Sirnea is for April-October; the Bucharest flat is impossibly small but now we have the Ploiesti flat for winter which at least has a bedroom! A flat in Russe – just inside Bulgaria - could be an answer! Just an hour from Bucharest and 3 hours from the Black Sea. But that is not as god for family, language, or health facilities!
It’s a great pity I cannot go into partnership with someone for the Plonevez house – minimise risks and leave cash for a Russe (Ploiesti or Balcik) option.

deja vu

I had been advised that the Crozon peninsula was something special – and so it proved. On the way, another visit to the brocanteur at Plonovez netted Ian McEwan’s Saturday; one of John Updike’s Rabbit books; 2 le Carres; another Paul Scott (Jewel in the crown, the best known of his quartet); and 2 unknowns – Linda Grant’s When I lived in modern times which won her the Orange prize in 2000 and Alison Johnson’s A House by the shore, a tale of restoring an old manse in the Hebrides and running it as a hotel.
Chateaulin was my first destination – just 15 minutes’ drive away. As I cruised alongside the canal which flows through it, I suddenly realised this was the place Daniela and I had morning coffee in 1999 after our night on the camping site on the hill above. Indeed, for years, I have had a recurring vision of this stretch of canal! This seemed an important sign – which was confirmed when, a few kilometres further brought into sight a Breton church in whose yard I had photographed Daniela. And then suddenly, on the left, I was looking down on a large expanse of sea. Crozon itself was a bit disappointing – but views of Brest at Lanveac and the estuary at Landevennc made up for it. I am now quite clear that this central part of Finistere – somewhat maligned by the residents of Morbihan for its weather and low density – is in fact the best for me. And that Plonevez is as good a location as any – with its ready access to sea north, south and west and near to cities such as Quimper.

pace of life

Up early again and, as I sat on the patio and saw the clockhand move to 09.00, I realised how quickly time is moving. I thought that time was supposed to stand still at this time of life – but it is in fact moving too fast. I would happily freeze this time of day before the world moves into gear – and that, perhaps, is why I am drawn to my Carpathian house in Sirnea and to this part of the world. They move at a slower pace.
One of Le Monde recent features (in the book section) was about the new distance between journalism and literature, focussing on one Joseph Kessler (one of their greats at his height in the 1930s), on Ryszard Kapuscinski and on Hunter Thompson – with no mention of people like Tom Wolfe, Norman Mailer, Jan Morris, Colin Thubron (whose Behind the walls I have discussed here) and Jonathan Raban whose 1979 Arabia through the looking glass I am now reading. The last two are particularly good in the way they let other people talk and say interesting things. The trouble, I suppose, is that there are so many excellent writers in this genre - Neal Ascherson, William Dalrymple, the great Hans Magnus Enzenberger, Joan Didion (perhaps more political) to mention but a few. And where do you place people like Theodor Zeldin (Intimate History of Humanity) and Robert Kaplan with his historo-travologues? It’s interesting (for me) that my taste in reading has become more journalistic and less abstract.