What are we looking for?

Today, after the delay of finding Kepler a new pushchair and also a sick-day on my part (curses, RyanAir, curses upon you!), we finally made it to Lodeve. We rented a shiny new silver ford car in the morning, arrived in the afternoon, found "S", and checked into her B&B for the night. Apparently the place she has lined up for us to move into has no heat; we'll go there tomorrow when the place is fixed.

Because it's cold here in Lodeve. "What are we doing here?" we ask ourselves, "this is supposed to be the Mediterranean." But of course there's nowhere in all of Europe immune to winter, and this, as everyone keeps reassuring us, has been the coldest winter in 34 years. But that's not very reassuring when you're shivering freezing between icy sheets. And Kepler's now got the cold that I had yesterday. Drat.

Still, the B&B was welcoming, Kepler loved "S"'s two dogs, and it was nice to feel like we were really starting to do somthing.

And so we finally had a chance to sit down with "S" and tell her what we're looking for:

Preferably an alternative living space. Ideally a water-tower-turned-house. That'd be our first choice. But anything, really, an old water-pumping station, an abandoned barn, an industrial something, an ancient ruin. Two walls are enough; we can put a house and a roof up, just so long at at least part of it is old, original or cool. Nothing boring, nothing conventional, certainly absolutely not any of the cinderblock houses which have so ruined so much of the region. "S" took it all in without much comment, then got down to business: "And what's your budget?" she asked.

Well.

Our actual top budget for the entire project including everything, the land the starting structure, the work, everything: something between 2 and 3 hundred thousand euros. This is a combination of my money and Sarah's equally. But with that said, we'd prefer if possible to keep it cheap. This is a project, after all, a future summer-house, not a future permanent residence. Also, we've heard so many stories of old ruins selling for a song around here. Our (perhaps naive) projection is to buy something for maybe 20,000 euros, and pour another 100,000 into fixing it up. With flexibility, of course, as expenditures require. Also, we'd rather spend the bulk of our budget on building, not on a building. So we figured: let's start cheap.

"890,000 euros," I told "S". Wait no... that's what she was hoping I would say.

"150,000 euros," I told "S". I could see a light go out behind her eyes. So we weren't the super-rich clients she'd been dreaming would walk through her door. Alas. But still, a sale is a sale, right? "Is that possible?" I asked.

"It's possible," she replied, "but it might take a while. The lower your budget, the longer you have to wait for it to come along."

Fair enough. "We're willing to wait," I said. "Our idea is to rent an apartment or a house for a year, which should give us time to find the place we want, and then to fix it up to a habitable condition."

"S" shook her head. "You won't find anything for rent like that," she said. "The few flats for let are mostly for pensioners and are in terrible condition." D'oh. "But," she continued, "As you know, I manage a lot of different holiday houses. I can keep you housed until you find what you need, and it's better in a way, because they're all fully furnished."

She knows best. And so tomorrow, we move into our first temporary home in France. And then, let the search begin!