Once a week, we visit nearby Carcassonne for some city time and do our shopping. There is also the chance to visit the "old city". Carcassonne is known for its impressive castle and fortified city, which has made the list of Unesco's World Heritage Sites.
The medieval city is in good condition after a huge restoration project in the 19th century that rescued the crumbling site. From a distance, the castle looks like something out of a fairy tale.
I spend a day looking around the city, trying to imagine what it was like before tourists took over. Then I find a little restaurant tucked away in what feels like someone's private garden. It's a perfect place to escape the crowds.
After everyone has settled into the retreat, we meet for "crepes and books". Everyone has brought two books to donate to the library at La Muse. I've brought Eleanor Catton's The Luminaries and Katherine Mansfield's short stories. (Mansfield died of tuberculosis in France in 1923.) Over crepes, everyone talks about the books they've brought and the project they're working on. I walk away with a long list of books I want to read.
Most days, I visit the library, which is a cosy room with hundreds of books donated by previous visitors. I spy volumes I've always been curious about but have never picked up, such as Proust's In Search of Lost Time and Freud's Interpretation of Dreams.
One Saturday, La Muse guests are invited to attend a village wedding reception. We drink champagne outside the old stone church and chat with the locals in the fading light of the evening. It feels like a chick-lit novel come to life . . . although most of the men in the village are getting into their twilight years, like old Mr Garcia, who is in his 90s, and still works in his garden every day.
Another night, we attend a village paella evening. The mayor kisses everyone on the cheek and greets them enthusiastically. I walk over to see the paella cooking in a giant pan the size of a round kitchen table. By the time the village has eaten, there is nothing left except some mussel shells.
A musical duo plays until midnight. My French has not improved and all I can throw into conversation is the odd "C'est formidable!" or "C'est bon!"
Between the socialising and writing, I also work as a "barter" (the retreat also offers fellowships and residencies). By doing a few days of work exchange a week, I'm able to stay for a discounted rate, and at the end of every three-week retreat, the barters help with the guest turnover. We can also arrange a work exchange that includes our own specific skill set, such as web design, social media, gardening, or sewing. One of the barters here is helping La Muse with their curtains. Mostly though, it's making up beds and cleaning, getting ready for the next set of retreat guests. It's physical work but strangely satisfying after spending hours at a desk trying to write.
As I stay on, the nights start to get colder and the seasons change. Chestnuts start falling from the trees. I tell myself it's time to go - I've stayed far longer than I had originally planned. But I know I'll be back one day for more inspiration.
Getting there
Emirates flies daily A380 services from Auckland to Paris, via Dubai, with return Economy Class fares starting from $1939. lamuseretreat.com