Well, it’s official: we bought a castle. A real one. In France. With turrets and towers and questionable plumbing.
This has been a long time coming. Two and a half years ago, we packed up our lives in California and moved to France. We rented a 300-year-old farmhouse near a chateau (as one does) and spent our days soaking in the pace of French countryside life while figuring out where, exactly, we wanted to root ourselves. We gave ourselves time to explore, to dream, and to not accidentally buy a property we hated.
Once we narrowed down our region, the hunt began. And honestly? That part was enchanting. We scrolled listings over morning coffee. We drove through winding country roads to see everything from grand manor houses to slightly derelict stone piles with “potential.” There were ivy-covered dreams and ivy-covered nightmares. Some had fairytale towers. Some had mushrooms growing in the walls. We saw them all.
We eventually fell in love with one property, made an offer, and naïvely skipped over to the bank thinking this would be like buying a house in the U.S., with a glass of champagne and a little ‘ching ching! to celebrate. We were wrong.
If you’re new: I’m Kamille. American in rural France, restoring a château and documenting the cultural whiplash. Subscribe if you like smart stories with a little dirt on the hem.
Banking in France: A Short Horror Story
It took six weeks for the first bank to get back to us. When they finally did, they said no. Just - no. No explanation. And when we asked for one, they said, “We are not obligated to give a reason.”
Merci beaucoup.
So, the first house fell through. At the time, it felt like a disaster. But in hindsight, it was a blessing, because the house that was meant for us hadn’t yet arrived.
The next part of the story involves a lot of paperwork, several new gray hairs, and the kind of financial acrobatics usually reserved for Olympic gymnasts. I’ll spare you the details (for now), but just know that if you’re an American trying to get a mortgage in France, it is...not for the faint of heart. Unless you’re paying entirely in cash (we weren’t), you’re going to need patience, persistence, and possibly a sacrificial baguette.
But. We made it.
Just before Christmas, we signed the final deed. We became the proud, slightly exhausted owners of a historic French chateau with two pepperpot towers, a river, outbuildings, a chapel, a private forest, and endless possibilities. We bought a castle for Christmas (cheesy Hallmark Christmas movie forthcoming).
The Move
Did we move in gracefully, sipping a glass of merlot and sitting back to relax while overseeing the team of movers? Absolutely not. We moved while sick, surrounded by mountains of bubblewrap and two children who had VERY big emotions about all of it. Let’s just say it was…a bit of a pavlova.
And just to keep things festive, we had two weeks to get everything in, cleaned, arranged, and made presentable, because we were hosting family for Christmas. In a castle. That we hadn’t even slept a single night in yet.
There were moments I didn’t think we’d pull it off. But somehow, we did. We strung up lights and set the table. We found enough plates that matched (ish). And on Christmas morning, the house was warm, the kids were happy, and there was actual magic in the air. It even snowed (squeeee!).
The fairytale didn’t begin with a grand entrance, but rather a mad dash, a few (hundred) tears, and some fairly shot immune systems. But it began.
And I can’t wait to tell you more.
(Coming soon: Diving into the moving day, why we chose this castle, and more.)
À bientôt,
Kamille
A note for new readers: we’re an American family living in rural France, restoring a small château, and writing it all down here.
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Are those actually arrow slits near the top of the tower (and in the upper story shutters)? a different take on home security!
My husband and I love the idea of moving to Europe. Did you have to go through a special process to buy in Europe?