Montainville is situated to the west of Paris surrounded by fields of crops ranging from wheat, maize, rapeseed and other things I can’t identify. We’ve lived here for six years now and enjoy all the benefits of the country only an hour away by car or train from Paris, as long as you don’t need to
commute during the rush hour.
There have been settlements here since the palaeolithic times, followed by Gaul villages and centuries of noble families and the feudal system. The church below dates from the 13th century. Around 1670, Louis XIV moved his falconry to Montainville, which provided employment for the whole village. The falconry was in use up to the end of the 18th century and today the magnificent building is both a family home and a gîte.
Nowadays the village has around 600 inhabitants, who fall into two categories; those people who were born and brought up here, the real Montainvillois, and the dreaded New Comers. The former are not particularly welcoming to the latter and on occasion even demonstrate a certain amount of silent hostility, unless I’m imagining it. You could live here for decades and still be a new comer.
I can understand their point of view as the village is très prisé, various famous actors or television people have lived here, so the house prices are high.
However, there are young families and a primary school, but nothing much happens except the yearly brocante, where I sell books.
Most people commute to the neighbouring towns or more often to Paris and the rest of the time keep themselves very much to themselves, behind closed doors and high medieval walls. All of which rather suits me as, like many writers, I like my own company and need plenty of alone time to write and with friends and everything Paris can offer not far away, this combination of rural and urban life is perfect.