“You need to buy the dream.”, the owner said; “I’m not selling a house boat, I’m selling the opportunity to live your dreams.” He was an older man, in his mid-80’s with a grizzly, white, day old beard and unkempt attire; but his fancy, carved cane and clean, nautical captain’s hat, spoke volumes about his priorities.
I nodded, said “umhmmm”, and looked the boat over, from my viewpoint on the dock.
I had just retired and was in that mental “no mans land”. The door to the unknown had just opened but I was still in a structured/regimented/goal oriented frame of mind and didn’t know how to cross the threshold into real retirement.
I had just rented a car in Bordeaux and driven to Carcassonne to see the world famous medieval castle; then I wandered aimlessly, ending up here at the canal. The dream of cruising the Canal du Midi, sleeping in a boat, eating fresh, crusty French bread and drinking good Medoc red wine was the romance that my feet had envisioned, and unconsciously brought me here.
A few years ago, I had toyed with the idea of taking a small houseboat cruise on the canal, going from lock to lock, and living the carefree life for a couple of weeks; but the plans were as ephemeral as a dream and never solidified.
Here however, was the real possibility and so I asked him, “How much?”
“Just wait, let me show you the boat first, then we can talk price”, he said as he extended his old weathered hand and helped me step onto the boat. As we walked around, he began to tell me stories about how he and his friends would cruise from vineyard to vineyard, sampling the wine and getting great deals on bottles you could put away in your cellar and in a few years, have a fabulous vintage at a fraction of the price. He would talk about how he and his friends would park the boat at a small village and buy fresh baguettes and local soft ripened chesses; then just pass the afternoon in the shade chatting about old times.
He told of the time he and his friends met these nice American women and took them for a canal ride… they ended up staying overnight and had a wild time. He also told tales of crazy tourists who would rent a house boat and then get so drunk they’d fall asleep at the wheel and hit a pier or a lock; he and his friends would just laugh.
His stories were beginning to spark my imagination and the romance of owning a boat on the canal was seducing me. I could see myself in the captain’s chair, puttering along the canal, like he and his friends had done. I began to think about selling my things in Canada and running away to live on this house boat.
I was about to ask him what his price was, when I saw him nervously look down the canal walkway and begin to take the for-sale sign down. I followed his gaze and saw an older woman walking along the canal; she started swearing and cursing at him in French; I didn’t have a clue what this was all about.
When she got to the boat, she looked at me and said, “Monsieur, please excuse my husband, he is a little demented; he doesn’t really want to sell the boat, in fact it is not even his to sell. He lives in an old age care facility now, and sometimes he escapes and comes down here to talk to people and relive his happier days.”
Author’s Note: The Canal du Midi was completed in 1681 and goes from Toulouse to Sète, France. It is very picturesque, often flanked by fields or vineyards; It even has a section where it crosses above the river Orb, on an aqueduct.
Nice surprise.