A Cariad Life

When I was growing up in my small town of Asheboro, NC, I thought it was a great place to grow up…we had wide, leafy streets with lots of hills to bike in the summer and sled in the winter. Even though many streets didn’t have sidewalks, we could walk to school, taking our time to amble through the woods or the creek beds. There were lots of ball fields, parks, a swimming pool (it only cost a $1 to enter), and Friday night football games were the highlight of the week. On the first weekend of October, there was a HUGE Fall Festival where the whole town would come out and enjoy the best BBQ anywhere (they seriously cooked the pigs all night long out in the street.) I could walk safely after dark with my friends through the neighborhood, and if we were too loud–a neighbor would remind us nicely that his kids were trying to sleep, and we would respond with, “sorry, sir.” My family and church friends went to Sir Pizza every Sunday night after church, and all my friends either worked at the local fast food restaurants or the mall. It was comfortable, easy…it was home.

As I grew older, I was surprised at people’s reactions when I said I was from Asheboro. They would mistake my response for “Asheville” and comment how beautiful it was…until I corrected them and said “AsheBORO,” to which their voice would drop, and they said, “oh yeah, that’s where the zoo is.” That’s right–our claim to NC fame is that Asheboro is the home to one of the world’s largest natural habitat zoos. However, it wasn’t really said as a complement. Later, when family and college friends would visit, I found that they were not as enamored with my town as I had been. They saw that the downtown was a bit run-down, some of the homes and cars had seen better days, and there didn’t seem to be much happening. Years later after living in different parts of the country and coming back to visit, I saw that in many ways Asheboro, like many small towns in America, was struggling–drugs and crime were more prevalent, some of the stores that had been around for generations were gone, and there seemed to be a waning pride in the town as a whole. In 2008, Asheboro was named as one of America’s fastest dying towns due to the shutting down of many of its manufacturers…it really had been a mill town.

Yet, things began to change. In 2012, the CBS show, 60 minutes aired a story on my hometown, called “The death and life of Asheboro, NC.” Although the story focused on the economic impact of losing manufacturing jobs, it celebrated that Asheboro was coming to life by finding its creative roots, investing in new local businesses and business owners, and rebuilding downtown. Although now it is not without its problems, I am proud of what my hometown looks like and feels like now–there are large planters of flowers lining downtown, coffee shops, wine bars, and locally owned restaurants abound on main street. The city hosts concerts in the park downtown and the arts scene is alive and well. They have antique stores and many people enjoy making a day of going to Asheboro to “lunch and antique.” My own mom and stepdad were part of that rebuilding by opening a Tea Shop by day and Italian restaurant at night, Tuscany’s, right on the main street. Having a nice place to eat in Asheboro was an important step in the rebuilding. So why do I bring all of this up? Because now I live in a town similar to Asheboro…Ribérac (pronounced “REE-ber-ac”–bonus points if you can do the French “R”)

Though in an entirely different country and with MANY other differences, I have found myself in another “Asheboro.” Ribérac, is small with just 4000 people and like my hometown, it has been around and been a center of commerce for the area for a long time (actually since the 12th century). In its best times, the main street was filled with thriving shops and cafes. There is a community center, pool, and theatre. It also has great ball fields (though rugby, not baseball) and a thriving set of schools (most French villages only have primary schools and the older students come into larger towns like ours). Our bustling Friday market is one of the largest in this part of the Dordogne and in the summer hundreds of people mill through the stalls. However, like Asheboro, Ribérac has struggled over the past few years. Businesses have closed and there are many vacant storefronts–there appears to be waning pride of ownership among many properties, especially on the main street (“high street” if your British). Bigger large box stores exist on the outskirts and the inner, older part is getting rundown.

Often our guests visiting from other parts of France and other countries comment on it, saying “your place is beautiful… Riberac not so much” or “why did you choose Riberac?” and “why are there so many empty storefronts?” The locals bemoan on social media the lack of investment in downtown and complain that Ribérac isn’t what it used to be. The impacts of COVID and last year’s hailstorm are still strongly evident, and it is difficult to see the beauty when you have to constantly walk around scaffolding and weave through trucks full of broken roof tiles. There is even a group who has organized trying generate ideas for growth–though it appears they spend more time criticizing the mayor than actually doing much more. In a word, our small village is a bit stuck.

But just like Asheboro, this town is full of citizens who care, are talented, and want to be here. Many are investing in property and renovating, bringing in music groups to the local restaurants, organizing festivals, and the Tour de France breathed some new life. Just like my mom was one part of bringing downtown Asheboro to life with their little restaurant, our little B&B is trying to do that here. Beyond adding beauty to our corner of “high street.” We support and recommend our local restaurants to our guests, we buy from our local Friday market, and we try to connect with our fellow citizens and business owners. Darrell has taken some amazing pictures of Ribérac-ones that show its beauty and grit (I think both are important) and we’ve enlarged them and showcased them in our foyer. We want to celebrate Riberac, its history and where it is going next. This week, one of our guests from Amsterdam, who also happens to be French, was commenting on our town. He said, “Ribérac is a bit rundown, but there is potential here. It is close to so many beautiful villages and this part of the country is gorgeous.” He also commented that most Americans tend to move to the southern Dordogne–a beautiful and popular areas with LOTS of tourists. He said, “you are one of the few Americans here–you’re getting in early.” I liked the hope and positive forecast of his words.

I don’t know that Ribérac will ever be a destination village, but more than anything I believe in the resiliency, determination, and pride of the people who live and work here in Ribérac. I saw it on their faces in the video of the Tour de France when it came through our town; I saw it on the face of the little girl walking with her mother across the street today, clutching a handful of wild flowers she had just picked. I see it on the faces of those working in Cafe des Colonnes (which has been serving since 1832), Bar du Midi, and the Copper Cock Cafe as they serve coffees and aperitifs with a smile. I also see it on those serving beautiful pastries and breads at our boulangerie and patisserie. I hope people see it on my face too–just like when I lived in Asheboro, I am proud to live here–I love where I live. I also think when we show that pride and love in our town, it makes people look at it at a second time to see what that they might have missed.

A few pictures of Asheboro and Riberac…