Musings on long-stays in another country

Living in France sounds exciting, exotic, something special to write home about. It's easy to romanticise a European lifestyle.  But settling down for three or four months in another country, attempting to embed oneself into day to day life, is a completely different matter. Especially when you have the responsibility of keeping up a small house there, paying the relevant taxes and bills, trying very hard to maintain or at least not unravel reputation by unintentionally misinterpreting language, social cues, or just not understanding 'the way things are done around here". If you need to feel competent at all times, spending a prolonged period of time in another country will humble you immediately.

Living in a different country and culture is a very different act to just dropping into a new, exotic place, taking the hop on-hop off bus past spectacular national monuments, and eating in lovely, quaint local cafes and restaurants. The act of "living" in a place is the Monday to Sunday of doing (read "surviving") the day to day life, where the successful completion of mundane, everyday tasks becomes a victory.

Unfortunately, no one else is impressed that you figured out how the local refuse tip works. Iconic.
Or that you successfully paid a bill on the french government web site. Revolutionary.
Or that you have conquered making restaurant reservations over the phone in french. Give that man a slap on the back!
Or that you successfully negotiated the emergency section of the local hospital. Outstanding!
Understanding a joke in real time. Still pending.
These are your peak moments now. Career milestones could never compete - you're just another foreigner who didn't stuff up a simple activity of daily living!

You develop a split personality. There is the confident, reasonably intelligent, articulate you in Australia. And then there is French-you. French-you is polite. Constantly a little confused. Slightly panicked. French-you agrees to things Australian-you would absolutely never agree to, like waiting two months for a local bank credit card, or quietly accepting the orthodontist receptionist in Angoulême telling you that there is no available appointments for you between now and mid-July! Really?! Not one? Between now and mid-July? My response? Just a smile and "merci", and then a vitriolic, outraged download when I get back to the car. "This would never happen back home!!".  [edit: well, maybe it would ...]

You start sending out false messages, just casual, tiny, weird ones. Someone explains something and you nod "yes, of course, completely understood". You did not understand a single word.  But you are committed now. You're in too deep. Let's just hope you don't get found out, that there are no follow-up questions or conversation that "finds you out".  Back home you are spontaneous.  Here you need preparation. Planning.  A script.  A backup script.  Emotional support at the ready.

Romanticism aside, the hard part of living the ordinary stuff in a foreign country is ... trying to work out installing and connecting an eSIM on your phone ...
the plumber coming around and discovering that the installation of the new toilet is more complex than originally thought and will now take a couple of months to sort out ...
breaking down on the highway in the Turo hire car and wondering what the f@#$ to do now ...
having an elderly french gentleman accost you in the supermarket and start babbling at you in rapid-fire rural French something about my shopping trolley (I had actually inadvertently started walking away with his rather than my own) ... going out to anything - a shop, cafe, restaurant, anything, and in order to prevent disappointment, having to assume that there will be a "fermature exceptionelle" (an unannounced closure)  ...
trying to remember whether "essence" is petrol or diesel at the fuel station ... getting roused at by the owner of a close-by café because she thought we were pushing in on the queue (would never do that!) ...
walking into some of the village shops that you have frequented often over the years, and being greeted as if you have never been seen before ...
negotiating seemingly unreasonably complex parking meters and just hoping that you don't return to a car with a ticket ...
having a conversation with the local barber that doesn't go quite as planned ...
the constant on-going battle with the heating system and trying to understand how it works ...
And all these examples?  These occurred in the last 48 hours in real life, day to day life,  here in Verteuil-sur-Charente, France.
Challenging. Tough. Adrenaline flowing. Character building.

But... as I mentioned earlier, you become very grateful for, and deeply invested in minor victories.  Just in the last two days, we've had the madame who is renovating the old stone house next door give us 4 eggs from her chickens, and showed us through her house (always so interesting to see what is behind the shutters in these villages). 
Today, the wheelie bins that I believed I had arranged through the village mairie really did arrive.  As promised.  No delay. 
The mechanic arrived (twice) to fix our car and get it back onto the road. 
Two restaurant tables reserved over the phone for Friday and Saturday nights - straight forward, no repetition required. 
I picked up three cycad ferns from Lidl for our rear courtyard, and saw that they were three times the cost at another nursery in the local town. Win! 
Visited an old antique shop in the neighbouring town and the madame propriétaire mentioned that I had previously visited her shop and said she recognised me from last year!
Negotiated a deal with an elderly monsieur to do some yard work next month for a reasonable price. Unheard of!
A plumber arrived as promised (!!) and a plan is in place to install an additional toilet in our cave.
Receiving nice compliments from my local french teacher.
The pleasure of the local rural environment and scenary, and the history that hits you in the face as soon as you walk out the door.
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As someone I know has said, "The dream is the ordinary life you build once the fantasy wears off". This time in France is special, an opportunity that we remain so grateful for.