When in Rome, do as Romans do

Who thinks moving house is fun? Maybe it is fun if you are leaving home that you grew up in and you were dreaming about doing it for years. But I am moving out of England. The country I always wanted to live in, the country I always dreamt of. It wasn’t the British pounds that attracted me, or some sort of social benefits. It was the language, the cuisine, and the culture. Yes, I do know, no one appreciates fish and chips* or curry unless they are British, but that is what I wanted, what I had and still have for few more days. My husband is British and he wants to live in France. I am Lithuanian and I want to live in Britain. Because my husband is older, and he is the one who earns money and the one whom I love, I am moving back to France for him.



I should be able to enjoy peaceful and quite life there, and my husband should relax and enjoy French wine and French cuisine.
Why am I not ecstatic or excited? Because France is not where I want to be. Never was and never will. I’d rather have fish and chips, than some poor rabbit that was cooked with it’s own head still on. Yes I do agree, there are French things I love, but it’s not the same. No matter how long we will live in our chosen village, we will never be “locals”, French people will accept and tolerate us, but that is as far as it goes. Believe me you, me being Lithuanian doesn’t help either. They don’t like eastern Europeans, but then who do they like apart from themselves? I am not complaining. I am happy about the bigger house and bigger garden bit. Hopefully I will have more time for writing and reading. My four-legged friend will wear himself out in the garden, my husband will be able to sit in the back garden and do nothing. It sounds all so beautiful, but we all know that in life nothing works out, as we want it to.
So, I don’t want to pack any more boxes today. My back is killing me. I am going to have one of those lovely British dinners tonight. For the ones who wonder why I can’t cook British in France – I always apply one rule to myself:

When in Rome, do as Romans do.

So if I will be living in France I’ll cook French (I can do it – I even know how to bake delicious French bread), eat French, speak French, and dress as French do and of course drink French wine and nothing else.
Good news are - Spain is just next door, so when I do get fed up with French way of life, I jump into the car and change for Spanish way of life for a day.

P.S. Once I am there I will fill this blog with loads of photographs, I must say the Pyrenees are too beautiful not to notice them.