Our visit is coming to an end, and as I sit at the Bordeaux airport (which, fun fact, is both tiny and surprisingly janky), I find myself reflecting on the last few days. We’ve crossed off some major milestones with this logistics-focused trip — opened a bank account, secured home insurance, and got to know our future neighbors — all without losing our minds or misplacing too many documents. A win! So while we wait to board, here are a few musings, mini-adventures, and lessons learned along the way…

On Public Transit, Panic, and Persistence

We packed light and decided to forgo a rental car, thinking it would be a fun challenge to navigate public transit like locals. And it was fun — when it wasn’t a total puzzle. Regional trains from Bordeaux to Castillon-la-Bataille? Excellent… unless you’re traveling between 3:40 and 5:39 p.m., aka the “dead zone.”

Then there was the day we tried to buy train tickets from Saint-Émilion to Bordeaux. The machine refused to cooperate in English, our credit cards were rejected, and Apple Pay laughed in our faces. Eventually, I figured out it would only work in French — and thank goodness we left ourselves 15 extra minutes.

Was it cheaper or more convenient than renting a car? Absolutely not. But now we know which apps to download and hopefully next time, we’ll be travel ninjas.

On People (and the Power of “Bonjour”)

If there’s one golden rule in France, it’s this: always start with “Bonjour.” It’s like a magic key that unlocks smiles and good vibes. Like the shopkeeper at the airport who called the duty-free shop past security to help me find the perfect perfume — one that she didn’t even carry.

Or the radiant African woman on the train who offered to braid another passenger’s girlfriend’s hair when he struggled. Two minutes later? A flawless braid and a sweet little alliance sealed in kindness. When it was time to disembark, he returned the favor by lifting her massive suitcase from the overhead rack like it was nothing. Small gestures, big hearts.

On Bureaucracy and the Blessing of Google Drive

Our visa paperwork and banking adventures have taught us that bureaucracy in France is less about being blocked by red tape and more about adopting a solution-oriented mindset, grounded in politesse and common sense.

Luckily I had the presence of mind to upload all of our important files to Google Drive before this trip. Having access to practically every obscure doc the bank could want was a game changer. At Crédit Agricole, instead of rifling through papers, we just Airdropped everything to our account manager. Birth certificates? Boom. Compromis de vente? Boom. Account opened. (And the full-replacement value home insurance? Less than €1,300 a year, with no penalty hikes for claims. What sort of magical place is this?)

Maybe we got lucky, because you’ll hear over and over in the expat groups about how hard it can be to get a bank account, especially when you don’t yet have a visa. I think it helped that we had someone call the bank to vouch for us when setting up the appointment, and that this particular branch is used to dealing with foreigners.

But still…no mobile check deposit in France. Because…France.

On the House That Whispers History

Let’s talk about our future home — La Maison de L’Amiral. It dates back to the 1760s, has radiators from Dublin’s Museum of Fine Arts, sinks from The Savoy in London, and a history that includes Nazi occupation during WWII. The Dordogne river behind the house marked the boundary between Vichy France and Occupied France. There’s an entire book about the town’s role, and Ralph is ready to dive in.

And because France is France, the town had the right to preempt the sale of our home — but after a final visit from officials, we got the green light. No preemption. Cue the Champagne.

On Quirks, Cabinets, and Closing Costs

We spent some precious time with Georgia, the seller (who, might I add, is fabulous), combing through everything from how the plumbing works to which furniture she was leaving behind. You’d think that would be straightforward — it’s not.

In Germany, people take their entire kitchens with them when they move. In France, they’re at least required to leave a lightbulb in every room. But since every item left behind affects the purchase taxes, we made two lists: one for things we’d buy from her (hello, cheerful yellow Portuguese cabinet) and one for things she’d leave as gifts (looking at you, old garden table). All had to be itemized and valued. It was oddly satisfying, and so much easier to do in person.

I even brought a tape measure to test out where our existing furniture might go. Sad news: our beloved concrete dining table didn’t make the cut — it’s too big for the space. But we’ve got a backup in storage that should fit just fine…assuming it arrives in one piece.

On Saint-Émilion and Serendipity

When Jaana, our B&B host, couldn’t accommodate us a second night (thanks to a wedding at a local château), we moved to a charming hotel in Saint-Émilion — the oldest one in town! I’d never heard of Saint-Émilion before this trip, but wow. It’s a medieval gem, the heart of Bordeaux’s wine region, and apparently one of the most visited places in France. Who knew?

The town won us over completely. We ate at a restaurant so good I’m still dreaming about the chocolate mousse. And in between sips and strolls, we also — wait for it — opened our bank account and got our home insurance set up. All in one day! This is what we call a “productive vacation.”

Final Musings from the Airport

This trip has been a blur of stair-climbing with suitcases, negotiating in French (or hopeful gestures), and a growing sense that we really might be able to do this. Every day brought a new surprise — from discovering fruit trees in our backyard to meeting locals who went out of their way to help us.

And perhaps the best moment of all? Ralph looked at me over a glass of Bordeaux and said: “I love France. Thank you for being so darn picky.” Be still my heart.

We’ve still got a ways to go — more purging, more paperwork — but for now, we’re soaking in this rare little pause between two big chapters.

No buyer’s remorse here.