That first night of discussion, which led to me to the discovery of the home exchange option, also led me to Paul and Sylvie. I perused the listing of this lovely couple with one son who wanted to spend the year in an English speaking country for much of the same reasons we want to spend a year in France. Excitedly, I read their listing to David. It read like something out of “Travel and Leisure.”
“Spacious 6-bedroom converted farm in rural area in world-renowned Loire Valley, France…” The home is surrounded by an orchard, next to a vineyard and smack dab in the middle of the area known as “The Valley of Castles” due to the immense number of medieval structures still standing.
Without taking a breath, I blurted out “What do you think? Should I contact these people?”
My husband is amazing. Like some sort of expert fisherman, he knows the precise moments for casting me out (not off – haha) and reeling me in. That being said, when he agrees to one of my crazy ideas, I’m pretty sure he never actually thinks sending me out there like some sparkling lure will produce any real fish, but the fact that he humors me is an outward display of his unwavering love for me and his deeply hidden sense of adventure that, when it comes down to it, rivals my own (he has jumped out of an airplane before, after all). The problem for me is I never know which he might do with any given “idea” of mine. Not to mention, every cast is typically followed by a reel, which has given me some chronic whiplash. (Perhaps this is my fault – I tend to soar a bit further out there than he ever intends.) To my delighted astonishment, with a shrug of his shoulders I heard him reply,
“Why not? Go for it.”
The diving board in sight, there was nothing left to do but leap.
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