Dog bites man. We have time off and have gone to France. That never happens.

We are back for another bite of the “south of France” apple. In the fall of 2010, we reconnoitered this part of the Languedoc north and west of Beziers/Narbonne, north and east of  Carcassonne. And liked it. A lot. (Here is a map of the region. As you see, not far north of Spain.)

It is a region with hundreds of small and often ancient villages, and vines and vintners everywhere. The ribbon of countryside in the southern half of the territory is mostly flat and heavily planted with vines (Faugeres, Minvervois, etc.), and as you move north the land becomes hillier, more interesting for views out the window and less useful for viniculture.

We are thinking of buying a place here, to live in or retire to or even flip, if/when prices firm up … because real estate in this part of France remains very affordable, and the weather is warmer and sunnier than in the north. In Paris, to be specific.

So, we’re doing the House Hunters International thing all over again, without the TV cameras or on-air musings, of course. But with our agent Anushka Paverman, who actually was on House Hunters International a few years ago.

First, how we got here, and where we are staying.

Has anyone mentioned lately how grueling air travel has become? Oh, yeah, Of course. Everyone has. The bane of modern travel.

We went to Barcelona via Doha, via Qatar Airways, and the seven hours from DOH to BCN were horrendous. The Airbus Whatever had a 2-4-2 seating arrangement, back among the unwashed masses in steerage. The “pitch” between rows was obscenely small, and when the people in the row ahead leaned back … the video monitor in front of us was about four inches from our faces. Getting out of our own seats was nearly impossible when the people in front of us were tilted back.

The plane also did not have a single empty seat (who flies from Doha to Barcelona? Seriously. Who?) … and isn’t it odd how even the sight of an empty seat within a few rows of you makes you feel less claustrophobic? But there were none. Almost impossible to sleep. A brutal flight. You know the drill.

We flew to Barcelona for two reasons: It’s far closer to the Languedoc than is Paris, and since we had to have a car even if we took the train from Paris, we would just start with the car and skip the train. And we figured the weather in Spain would be kinder than that in Paris — both in the air and on the ground.

We rented a very cheap and oddly battered Opel, and headed north. Through Girona, to the Spain-France border, which seems to run along the highest peaks of the Pyrenees … and bought a baguette and some Serrano ham within the first 5K of France.

By 1 p.m. we had knocked off 320 kilometers, having passed Perpignan and Narbonne and Beziers, and were in the village of Castlenau-de-Guers, a little hillside town of 1,000.

Without being cynical, it can safely be said that Castelnau-de-Guers has all the charming features that any self-respecting town in this part of France is sure to have: bits of old town wall, an oversize church, the crowded and ancient buildings from the part of town situated within the walls, at least one vintner, a bakery, a little store, a school, a bus stop and a city hall.

We have rented a place for the week from a Canadian woman who owns a well-appointed two-bedroom place a few feet north of the Old Town.  She was leaving for a visit to Canada, and she showed us around her very nice place, which has a sun-drenched terrace on the roof. (That’s me, above, drinking hot chocolate and appreciating some winter sun, with a view of the countryside, beyond.)

We are using this place as a base for looking at available properties. We saw six of them today, while jet-lagged and sleep-deprived, and we liked one of them. More to come on that.

Below is a photo on the side of a building on the main road. It just seemed that the advertisement, and the signs for other small towns … it’s a very familiar sort of sight in this part of the world.