Articles by Beatrice Labonne

Three Years in Languedoc

I bought a house in Languedoc.  It was a patriotic duty. In spite of my four decades of wandering the world, I am still a French citizen, if by default. Setting up house in Languedoc was a delusional challenge to real estate statistic trends. It was a futile attempt to dilute the inflow of ageing British citizens to the region.  For the sake of honesty, I must admit that I picked up Languedoc for the same reason, the Brits do: My house in Calvisson was bought to welcome the many friends I have made along the years.   

Languedoc may not yet be on everyone’s real estate map.  It is still a runner-up to Provence in terms of hip destinations. In the early 90s, writer Peter Mayle was the de facto bard of Provence. His best seller books generated a stampede of property acquisitions which hiked real estate prices beyond my means. The Eastern part of Languedoc, Gard, advantageously compares to Provence. It shares Provence’s charms without its downside. Languedoc’s attributes would make any Peter Mayle’s promotion superfluous. 

In real estate, location is key. Remember Donald Trump, Manhattan real estate flamboyant entrepreneur?  His mantra has always been “location, location, location”.  His mantra perfectly applies to Languedoc.  I choose Languedoc for its geographic and infrastructure appeal. East Languedoc is the ultimate logistic dream. Two international airports, Montpellier and Nimes, cater to the Nordic invaders. Nimes’ high-speed train station delivers the Paris, Geneva and German tribes.  The road network is also impressive. It has been recently further enhanced by the building of the Millau bridge.  The bridge, the brain child of an updated “Entente Cordiale”, is both an architectural show stopper and a traffic facilitator. 

When I retired from official duties, I sold my Manhattan apartment. With the proceeds, I bought the house in Languedoc and a small flat in Rio de Janeiro.  I have now become a long-distance commuter. I commute from Rio de Janeiro to Languedoc and back twice a year.  Jet setting between two continents, between Rio de Janeiro, the mother city of all carnivals, and Calvisson, a quaint Gard village, requires logistic savoir-faire, and patience.  Calvisson is the perfect antidote to the turbo- charged Rio de Janeiro life.  Fast moving Brazil’s emerging economy compares itself with a jaguar pouncing for leadership. No tigers roam the Brazilian jungle. The social self-indulgence the Languedoc provides me a momentary breather to the Brazilian economic brashness and political insolence.   

The Languedoc way of life, exemplified by its opposition to the hustle and bustle of globalization, entices me to unwind with minimum guilt complex.  I welcome as solace the locals’ muscular resistance against everything which looks like an attempt at creating a competitive environment. Some poorly informed visitors often compare the south of France to a theme park for a bygone era, when time was of no essence.  Languedoc may seem lethargic, yet its inhabitants are bursting with energy. Their efforts are mainly directed at the preservation of their laid-back social routine.  It is hard work to swim against the tide.   

Languedoc lifestyle compels you to return to an indolent pre-service age. Where could I find a place where all shops are closed by 7 pm, noting that they never open before 3 pm? Where restaurants in summer pull down their shutters before the sunset? The information technology age has only discretely and timidly come to Languedoc. Internet cafes haven’t yet invaded the shopping areas and people still complain about their high phone tariffs.   

Many people have bad mouthed Languedoc as the newest nursing home for ageing “layabouts”, Brits in particular.  I disagree entirely with this perception. Baby boomers are retiring in droves and many are looking for homes in warmer climates. By tapping this market, has not Languedoc displayed flair for economic opportunity? With the local wine industry falling by the wayside, this may be a profitable niche market for Languedoc.  

After three years, my house in Languedoc has mellowed into a port of call for my traveling friends and a welcoming stop for visiting locals. You may be surprised to learn that many of them are British citizens. 

Beatrice Labonne, 1 April, 2006. 

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