Buying a Place in France

Buying a place in France can be a very frustrating experience… there is no master listing service (MLS) where you can go and do a first search by internet of properties for sale. Real estate agents jealously guard their few properties for sale, and often demand exclusivité of the seller so only they can sell the property.

Given the lack of an MLS, and the traditional mistrust of all administration here in France, it is not surprising that around 30% of sales are private, leaving about 60% through an agency, and 10% through local attorneys (notaires as distinct from avocats). By the way it seems the collective noun is une etude de notaires, but un cabinet d’avocats.

The best approximation to an MLS we found was to go to property magazines’ web sites. Again, there is not one definitive magazine but several competitors, each jealously guarding the agencies that advertise with them.

Seeking out For Sale signs on properties is not much use either - public signs are very rare and usually only if properties are already unoccupied.

The next challenge is that actual property addresses are also jealously guarded. This means that web searches and window shopping have very limited usefulness. We would see properties advertised as “within 15 minutes of the town centre” – not specifying whether this was on foot or by car – a huge difference! Sometimes we would at least see advertisements indicating a generic area – quartier lycée Cézanne for example, this being about as precise as agents would dare to get. And of course walking that area we would find a mixture of delightful and dubious properties. In reality you have to go to each agency to get more details - but still you're not given the actual address. You agree on a visit date and time and meet the agent, either at the agency or at some commonly agreed location, and from there you are escorted to the property. At the end of the visit you must sign a form, un bon de visite, that is used to prove that they were the first to show you this property and if you buy from another agent, or buy privately, the original showing agent still gets their full commission.

Real estate agent hyperbole applies just as much in France as in other countries. Some of the expressions made us laugh out loud. The condition of a property could be described, roughly in order of the work needed, as très bon état, bon état, à refraichir, à renover. Other fun expressions include à refaire à votre gout...

Photos - where provided at all - are very limited. Often just one photo is available, typically a lounge/diner view. The photos are amazingly poor, with no effort made to tidy up beforehand. Everything is very cluttered - we see photos of rooms with clothes sprawling over chairs, dirty dishes on worktops. To be fair, since there is so little storage space, I guess they don’t have anywhere to hide stuff, but still, it would take but a moment to put clothes away and wash dishes!

So, in reality, it is necessary to do a first search by internet, to get a flavor of what is available at what price, then go walkabout to get a feel for the areas. Finally, go from one agency to another and spend time with them as they capture needs and desires (and budget – Aix is apparently the most expensive place after Paris), then have them explain how few properties they really have available. Because, despite their listings and web site showing lots of properties, many are in fact already under contract, outright sold, have a tenant with long term rights, or have some specific problem like being next to the highway. If we’re lucky, we get to visit two properties per agency that generally meet our criteria.

By the way, agents usually advertise properties with the price marked FAI – frais d’agence inclus. They then claim to the buyer that they don’t have any agency fees to pay - but of course in reality the price has already been inflated by the agency fees before putting it on the market, so the buyer is in a sense paying the fees!

Because of the lack of actual addresses, we also had to get to know key areas and adjacent villages. These are often named by a specific development outside of town such as Les Milles or La Duranne. Even getting to know how to pronounce local names can be a challenge… Luynes, Puyricard, Pertuis, Trets… is the final consonant pronounced?

Initially we walk and walk all over town, and soon learn that street maps can be very deceptive. What seems on the map to be an interesting area just a few minutes’ walk away turns out to be a major climb uphill from the town centre – not something you want to tackle after an evening of lovely food and wine in one of the open-air restaurants in the town centre.

Properties are usually advertised as F3 or T3 etc. F (fonction) and T (type) are essentially synonymous, while the number after refers to the total of livable rooms, excluding the bathroom, toilet, kitchen, utility room (should it be so luxurious as to have one at all). For example a T2 would have one lounge/diner and one bedroom, while a T4 might have a separate lounge and dining room, and 2 bedrooms.

When it comes to defining the size of the property however, the French count the “raw” floor area of every room, and every cupboard, even if built-in. Fortunately, there is now a law, le loi Carrez, which requires the ceiling to be of a minimum useful height (1.80 metres or about 70 inches), so no counting all of that loft conversion with its sloping ceiling.

Once agreed verbally, it takes just a few days for the notaire to draw up the sale document, le compromis de vente, and get the buyers and sellers together to sign (like the exchange of contracts in England). This is a real commitment on both sides with a penalty clause of 10% typically should either withdraw, and requires the buyer to put down a 5% deposit.  However, you may put in an escape clause (clause suspensive) if for example you need to get a loan and it might get refused. By the way, attorney fees (frais de notaire) and government taxes amount to a further 7% of the purchase price, so you need to be sure this is the property for you!

Closing takes place about 3 months later, mostly due to the fact that the local town hall has the right to purchase the property and is required to respond within 60 days.

Parc de la Torse (next door to where we are buying)

Unlike the UK and the USA, here in France sellers typically take all they can dismantle… including light fittings (leaving just bare wires), kitchen cabinets and built-in appliances – unless specifically agreed beforehand. Some friends here recently found their sellers had even removed all the electric panel radiators from the walls!

Despite all the above, we have found an apartment within comfortable walking distance of Aix centre, next to a lovely park, and not far from the highway to the south – the coast, and the countryside. Work will be needed, in agents’ jargon à refraichir, and the kitchen à refaire. But we are not in a hurry, and look forward to going to Ikea and being inspired!

© 2011 Text and Images Trevor and Valerie White

Food shopping - First Impressions

We don't have a car right now, so local shopping is really important to us, and of course more fun!

Fortunately there is a Casino supermarket in the neighborhood, just 5 minutes away. It’s relatively small but a joy to visit, and simply wander the aisles in slow pleasure, absorbing the sights and smells.

It's Sunday morning - and we’re astounded to see long lines at the checkout and no carts (chariots) to hand because the store is packed. The locals are out in force - many buying the week's shopping, but others clearly shopping for fresh food for their big Sunday get together.

We wait for a cart and remember we must have a 1 euro piece handy to be able to disengage it from the lines of carts usually chained together outside the store. Our euro is only borrowed – it is appreciatively returned once we restore the cart to its rightful resting place with the others.

On entering, the delicious smell of baking bread immediately strikes us. In fact bread is continuously baked throughout the day here and so is often delightfully hot to the touch. The French have improved their bread habits since we were here over 20 years ago – now, in addition to the traditional white flour baguette and pain, there is a wide selection of whole grain breads and rolls (petits pains). We have fallen in love with the baguette aux céréales. Prices are generally very comparable with the USA, and local tax is already included of course, so what you see is what you pay. A healthy baguette aux céréales is 0,95€ (about $1.33 including tax), a regular baguette 0,63€ (no longer government price controlled but closely monitored by consumer associations).

By the way, for those who haven’t encountered numbers here, the decimal point in France is replaced by a decimal comma, conversely the thousands separator is a comma, not a period. It’s quite a challenge writing a check because the value in words is written first, then the payee’s name (the opposite of English or American checks), followed by the numerical value with periods and commas reversed!

After the bread comes the fresh fruit and vegetable area with a few products we don’t recognize but look interesting for another day. We quickly learn that you must place produce in a plastic bag, put it on nearby scales, search through a list to find what you have chosen, then press its icon to get it weighed, priced and a label printed that you place on the bag.

Next we arrive at the patisserie with those amazingly beautiful gateaux and desserts that are veritable works of art – hand-made, transient and pleasurable of course. We are spoilt – nous sommes gâtés!

The patisserie counter forms a square with the delicatessen on the opposite side. By way of contrast, here are displayed all the savory delights – a cornucopia of cheeses, pâtés, often encased in golden pastry (en croûte), sausages, including several boudin (made with blood), and andouillette (made with intestines). Oh, and some large bowls of snails (escargots), suitably stuffed with garlic ready for the oven.

This brings us to the meat counter where, even in this small store, we come across traditional French items such as rabbit (lapin) beautifully dressed, lambs feet (pieds d’agneau ), lambs tongue (langue d’agneau), veal brains (cervelle de veau), horse steak (steak à cheval), and a local specialty - Marseille pieds et paquets (offal of tripe and feet) - un mets composé d'abats de mouton (tripes et pieds). More pictures available for those interested!

Being so close to the Mediterranean, the fish counter offers a wide variety of fresh fish and shellfish that monsieur le poissonnier will prepare on request. Trying to understand the French names though can be quite a challenge since many of the Mediterranean varieties are simply not seen elsewhere and so are not readily translatable. Even for the French, there is a pictorial wall chart!

Near the end of this delightful excursion we arrive at the wine section where Val is spoilt for choice by two floor-to-ceiling shelves of dry rosé wine, starting at around 2€ a bottle.  No white Zinfandel here...

Another small advance in technology by the way - prices on shelves are displayed using small LCDs, indicating price and unit price (per kilo or per litre for example), making comparison shopping much easier, and of course allowing the store to change prices easily without any need to reprint shelf labels.

Now to pay… there are 4 self-checkouts but they take European cards only - those with a chip on board, so we have to go through the regular checkouts with our old-fashioned 1950s technology magnetic-stripe credit cards. But this is in fact a pleasure as we get to talk to local people in the queue, and we are starting to get known by the regular cashiers who have to get a signature when we pay with our funny foreign credit card.

We only buy as much as we can comfortably carry back to the apartment, even if it is only a few minutes away. If we spend 50€ or more they will deliver - but then we’d be tied to staying at home when they call by, and besides we don’t have a lot of storage in our small apartment.

Most importantly though, we simply enjoy going back every couple of days and buying our fresh bread, cheese and wine… and meeting people along the way.

© 2011 text and images Trevor and Valerie White

Rainy Day Friends

Why did we decide to settle in Aix-en-Provence?

One huge reason is the climate, and Provence, with its summers drenched in sunlight and its piercingly blue sky has been enthralling visitors and artists for centuries. Winters are mild, and the current November temperatures hover around 20C (68F). Rainfall is low, averaging about 587 mm (about 23 inches) per year. While we love England, memories of spending countless weekends watching the rain streaming down the window panes and gurgling down the gutters convinced us that we would prefer to spend our golden years somewhere, well, more golden!

But nature is not always predictable, and the past week has seen torrential rains and flooding in many areas of southern France, including our department of les Bouches-du-Rhône. Nothing daunted, we go as usual to our Saturday morning conversation group in a local cafe. The rain is still pouring down as we emerge, so we accept with pleasure an invitation by friends to join them for a pre-lunch drink.

Dodging the rain as far as possible, we duck into the front area of a local cafe on the famous Cours Mirabeau. In summer these are the pavement cafes where locals and tourists alike settle in for a session of people-watching and setting the world to rights over a glass of wine or a cup of coffee. In winter, a canvas surround and heaters ensure a cozy atmosphere. So drinks merge into lunch, then coffee, as we watch the rain fall and the world go by outside, with a waiter sallying forth occasionally, armed with a broom, to tip the water from the roof. We talk and eat, eat and talk as we while away the wettest day so far. But what a wonderful way to spend a wet Saturday!

The evening brings us down to earth with a bang, literally! It is late, the metal shutters are all securely closed against the intemperate weather, and we are doing a final clear-up before bed. I switch on the kitchen light, there’s a loud popping noise, and we find ourselves in pitch darkness, with not even a tiny ray of light from outside making its way through the tightly-closed shutters.

By the glow of a cellphone, we find a flashlight, and locate the junction box above the front door. Balanced on a chair and holding the flashlight, Trevor resets the offending circuit-breaker. Nothing happens. We look around, locate a second box in the kitchen, this time at floor level, and reset everything. Still total darkness. By now it is 11 at night and we are not sure who to call. So I listen tentatively at my neighbor's door across the landing of the apartment building. Hearing the television, I cross my fingers that he is still awake, and ring his doorbell. He appears immediately, reaches out to shake hands, asks us how we are, and goes through all those courtesies for which the French are deservedly famous. He behaves as if he is genuinely pleased to see us, with never a reproach for disturbing his peaceful Saturday evening. We describe our problem, and he explains to us that there is yet another circuit-breaker, this time in the meter closet in the common stairwell. For this, we need a special key from EDF, Électricité de France.  So that's the purpose of the key hanging on a hook just inside the front door! We open the closet, identify our meter, push the magic button and voila! We have light.

A neighbor who extends a helping hand in a tight fix, new friends with whom we can spend four hours on a wet afternoon and still have more to talk about. It may still be pouring, but we are counting our blessings. Rainy day friends really are the best type to have. And we still have the promise of the return of those glorious, clear blue skies of Provence!

© 2011 Text and Images Trevor and Valerie White