Right now, I’m in Carcassonne—not just to check in on my Airbnbs, but because I wanted to see the garden bloom. This is the second spring I’ve spent with my first Carcassonne property, and I knew my peonies (my favourite flowers) would be flowering. It’s a quiet reason to travel, maybe. But for me, it’s enough.
There’s something about watching a space you’ve brought back to life continue to grow without you. The garden here was once wild and overgrown, neglected for years. Now, it’s an oasis—not just for my guests, but for me too. And on sunny days like today, I find myself doing something I rarely do in London: sitting still.
This afternoon I found myself at a small table on Place Carnot, the square in the heart of Carcassonne. Coffee, sunshine, a good book—and silence. That’s it. That’s the moment. The one that reminds me that simplicity often feels better than luxury.
Embracing Frugality Without Sacrifice
Frugality isn’t about deprivation. For me, it’s about returning to the core of what brings joy. Sitting in the sun costs nothing. A walk to the local bookshop, reading on the terrace, meditating after a gym session—these are the rituals that give structure and meaning to my days.
I grew up with very little, so I’ve always known that happiness doesn’t come from material excess. Even now, as someone who owns several properties, my lifestyle remains grounded in simplicity. I don’t feel the need to chase expensive pleasures. Instead, I find challenge and satisfaction in spending wisely, like a game. How much can I save this week on groceries? How can I nourish myself without waste?
This simplicity isn’t about being cheap. I’ll still buy a croissant and a coffee on the square if the deeper purpose is to be surrounded by life, by sun, by voices. But if I can get that same feeling just by sitting nearby, I’ll do that too.
Guest Experiences Rooted in Simple Joys
This same philosophy shapes how I think about my guests. I don’t believe that memorable hospitality needs to come with luxury price tags. I believe in details that feel personal. A book exchange. A garden treasure hunt. A room that surprises you with softness and light.
In my two newest Carcassonne apartments, I’ve created what I call “bath rituals”—LED lights and calming decor that make stepping into the bathroom feel like a retreat. It didn’t cost much. But it transforms the space.
I design these touches for the curious guest, the sensitive one, the one who notices. Not everyone will. But when someone writes that they felt at home, that they noticed the care, that they saw the little things—that means everything.
A Philosophy of Slow Living
Carcassonne has a slower rhythm. You make plans with friends the day of, not weeks in advance. Shops open and close when they do. Business isn’t rushed; life isn’t rushed. That slowness has seeped into my bones a bit. I find that I’m calmer here. More observant. More aligned.
And as I move between Carcassonne, Annecy, and London, I carry that slowness with me. This isn’t a transition I planned, but one I feel. A quiet shift toward living with more intention, more ease. It’s not about stepping back from ambition, but about choosing what kind of energy I want to live in.
Hosting, for me, isn’t just providing a place to sleep. It’s offering a space where someone can pause. Breathe. Notice the sky. Feel at home. Maybe even feel a little changed.
A Final Thought
Life doesn’t need to be expensive to feel full. A croissant in the sun. A shelf of books with notes inside. A small apartment with a view of the garden.
If that’s what my guests take away—that a home can feel like a gift, not just a transaction—then I’m doing something right.
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