Town Mouse turns into Country Mouse

So here I am. Images in my head shattered by the reality that faces me. Breathtaking beauty contrasted by the grim truth of life in the French countryside. After 8 hours on the motorway enroute the Channel Tunnel and an hour spent lost in the villages surrounding Fontainebleau, we arrived at what will be our home for the next year.

The cottage is idyllic. Picture Perfect. Rustic beauty in all its glory. My little building is one of three houses on the property. And by property I don’t mean a gated apartment block or a housing estate. I mean three cottages set in acres of forest. Our street curves its way to the top to find Number 18 with its white wooden gate, beyond which all you can see is – a wood. Yes a wood like the one Hansel and Gretel got lost in. Much like the one where Joe, Beth and Fanny discover Moon-Face and Saucepan Man.

All very beautiful and storybookish but slightly odd when you discover:

1) the landlord insists on speaking to me in French

2) keeping the fireplace lit is crucial to ensuring that my toes don’t fall off my feet (this includes collecting twigs and logs, clearing out ash, buying little blobs of paraffin wax that keep the fire going and stoking, prodding and nurturing the flame constantly during the day – all being done by Tom at the moment but a skill I have to pick up fast)

3) driving the wrong car on the wrong side of the road is something I have to get used to pretty quickly. Add to that driving the car in the night and possibly through snow.

4) the French love their holidays and the coiffure is not open till 12th January!

5) My landlord has warned me that the sanglier (wild boar) often find their way into the property – I am expecting a loud thump anytime in the night

6) When you wake up in the morning, the car is covered is covered with a thin layer of translucent frost – only removable by using a ‘de-icer’ (we don’t have any) or using the windscreen wipers at the highest speed to scrape off the ice!

7) there is deathly silence all around me and for someone who has lived opposite a pub in the heart of Shoreditch (party central in London) the silence is unnerving

I suppose all of the above makes more sense when prefaced with the fact that I have lived, for all of my 29 years, in the heart of very large cities – Bombay, Bangalore, Delhi, Sheffield, London. Never once on the edge of a city, never in suburbia, always the centre and always close to sights and sounds that carry on through the night. Therefore I have never had to light a fire, face the frost, say hello to a wild boar or drive on anything but highly congested lanes or 3 lane super speed motorways. I have always wondered what the countryside would feel like and a few holidays to Provence helped, however knowing that it was a temporary 5 day break always made me feel a lot more comfortable.

This time I feel a lot like town mouse. Country mouse must think I am daft and have very odd, irrational fears.

On the positive side, the internet works, I managed to show my family images of the house through Skype, I drove for the first time into the village, to Insead (completely shut) and back, discovered where the boulangerie was and cooked my first meal to be served up shortly with a nice bottle of Burgundy white (we are not very far from Cote d’or).

Tomorrow I shall try and get my head around the easiest route to Insead by car, the easiest route to Insead in the dark, the easiest route to Insead in the dark and one which avoids the wild boar; and ofcourse all the pre-reading and preparation that comes with the true reason for my visit – Insead.

Yours truly
Town Mouse