Money, a stubborn French taboo

When we moved into this house last year, my first battle was not against the French administration or vice, but against the bamboo grove that stretched from the door to the steps. When I came home with my arms laden with groceries, the dogs at my feet, their roots tripping me up, their leaves brushing my face, preventing me from seeing anything. Not to mention it’s a mess! If our ancestors had planted thistles, I would have been better off, because, at least, I could have made jam …

I mentioned this matter to a French gardener friend and explained to him that, in my opinion, the sale of bamboo is subject to authorization and with very strict instructions (non-compliance can be fined). Prohibit planting out of pots to limit the spread of creeping roots: “How can you plant something so ugly in such a small garden?” I moaned, my hands covered in blisters from an entire afternoon of playing with sectors in this evil forest.

“It is to create a screen, My friend replied. Not only to maintain your privacy but hide what you own. The French hate flaunting their wealth.

Don’t reveal yourself

It made me think of some of the houses I’ve had the chance to rent in France in recent years: many were uninviting on the outside, but beautiful on the inside. I’m thinking specifically of a house located on a winding alley. Its double front door, its dark green paint all faded and flaky, and set into a harsh gray basalt wall, actually opened onto a beautiful courtyard from the 16th century.^e century, is overgrown with palm trees, roses and potted plants, and gives access to a house with lots of old furniture (including a chest of drawers