Why We Chose the Dordogne: One Expat’s Experience

We spoke with Sarah, who moved to the Dordogne in 2020 after leaving the UK in search of a slower, more balanced way of life. Like many people considering a move to France, she weighed up several regions before settling on the Dordogne, a decision shaped by lifestyle, affordability, and a desire to feel part of a real, working community rather than a tourist hotspot.

Below, Sarah shares why she decided to make the move, what drew her specifically to the Dordogne, and what everyday life is really like now she’s living there full time, the positives, the challenges, and the realities that don’t always make it into glossy brochures!

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"I never planned to live in France. Like a lot of people, I talked about it for years, usually after a stressful week at work or halfway through a holiday, but I always assumed it would remain one of those “one day” ideas. The turning point came in my early fifties, when “one day” started to feel uncomfortably vague.

I’d spent most of my adult life in the UK, working long hours, commuting, and measuring the year in deadlines rather than seasons. I wasn’t unhappy exactly, just permanently busy and increasingly tired. When my children were grown and my work became more flexible, I realised I had the rare chance to redesign my life instead of simply enduring it. That was when France stopped being a fantasy and started to feel like a practical option.

We began looking seriously in 2018, initially quite broadly. Parts of Brittany appealed, Provence felt beautiful but intimidatingly expensive, and the south coast was quickly ruled out. The Dordogne wasn’t even top of the list at first, until we visited.

Something about it just slowed us down. The landscape was gentle rather than dramatic, full of rolling hills, rivers, and woods. Villages felt lived in, not curated. Markets weren’t put on for tourists; they were simply where people shopped. And perhaps most importantly, it felt like a place where you could belong rather than just pass through.

We chose the Dordogne for practical reasons too. Property prices were (and still are) comparatively reasonable. There was a strong mix of French locals and internationals, which made integration feel less daunting. Healthcare was accessible. And the pace of life felt human. No one rushed us when we spoke imperfect French; no one seemed particularly impressed or irritated by the fact that we were foreign.

We moved permanently in the spring of 2020, a slightly surreal time to relocate anywhere, but even through that uncertainty, the decision felt right.

Life here now is quieter, but not smaller.

My days are shaped by natural rhythms in a way they never were before. I wake earlier, not because I have to, but because the house fills with light. Mornings are for errands, walks, or work done at a calmer pace. Afternoons stretch out. In summer, they’re long and hot; in winter, they’re made for fires, soup, and early nights.

The Dordogne is a place where food still matters. Markets dictate the week. Strawberries appear, then vanish. Walnuts turn up in everything. Conversations with neighbours often start with what’s been harvested or what’s about to be planted. It sounds quaint, but it grounds you in the present in a way I never experienced before.

Social life here took time. The first year was lonely at moments, and I won’t pretend otherwise. French friendships don’t happen instantly, and language barriers are real. But consistency counts. Showing up counts. Now, I have people I nod to in the village, people I stop and talk to, and a small circle of friends who make life feel rich rather than busy.

What I value most is the absence of pressure. No one asks what I do for a living within five minutes of meeting me. Success isn’t loudly performed. Time off isn’t something you apologise for. Life isn’t perfect, French bureaucracy deserves its reputation, but it’s balanced.

Living in the Dordogne hasn’t turned me into a different person. It hasn’t erased problems or guaranteed happiness. What it has done is give me space. Space to think, to breathe, to live more deliberately.

When people ask if I’ll ever move back, I don’t say never. But I do know this: the Dordogne taught me that life doesn’t have to be rushed to be full, and that’s a lesson I’ll carry with me wherever I am."