The Green Gate                                                                                                         Ardara, Co. Donegal, Ireland. Phone number: +353-(0)7495-41546 

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    FINANCIAL TIMES

       A little bit of French flair in Donegal.

Paul Chatenoud wanted to win the Nobel Price for literature. Instead, he's running a B&B and loving it. Kieran Cook tells his story.

The Atlantic winds chase across the sea from the east coast of the US of rampaging rugby players. In mid Ocean they pause and regroup, before

hurtling themselves at the coast of the West of Ireland, the first land mass for thousands of miles. The gale rocked the car from side as I negotiated

the narrow drive in a remote coastal region of County Donegal. The wipers were giving up, tired by the amount of water thrown at them. Through

the scything rain, I ran to the cottage door. My city shoes were soaked in an instant.

"Hell", I shouted. "Anyone there?" I rattled the big bell. No response. I pressed the latch. Inside the cottage's thick walls, all was serene. There was

 a smell of burning turf, overlaid with the pungent aroma of French cigarettes. from upstairs came the sound of an aria from La Traviatta. Finally, full

 of apologies, my host appeared.  

Paul Chatenoud has the furrowed face of a philosopher but the twinkling eyes and ready smile of an entertainer, a cross between Jean-Paul Sartre

and Charles Aznavour. Ten years ago he sold his flat on the L'île Saint-Louis in the centre of Paris and moved to Donegal. He now runs one of

Ireland's more unusual bed and breakfast establishments. Chairs are pulled up to the fire. "Yes, it is raining a little but it is good for the time of year.

" Chatenoud has learned the Irish art of understatement; in country areas the arrival of a hurricane would be described as heralding "a nice, soft day".
"My friends thought I was mad when I moved here," says Chatenoud, a Gauloise hanging from the side of his mouth. "But I never regret being in

Donegal for one moment."

The B&B, called The Green Gate, has four bedrooms arranged in two outbuildings. They are warm and comfortable, with bathrooms attached.

Chatenoud was born in Morocco. Various Arab and African artefacts decorate the walls of what were once cowsheds. Most of the renovation

work was done by Chatenoud himself. He even made his own mattresses. We go out to eat. Chatenoud looks rather incongruous in the midst

of the wild country in a long Maigret-style Parisian raincoat. His old car bumps and grinds down the drive. "You know people here are so kind,"

he says. "My car, it was broken so one morning, a man came here and gave me this. He insisted I keep it. When things like that happen I feel as

if I am part of life here."

The Green Gate is near the town of Ardara, and about 15 miles from Donegal town. There is a small French community in the area: Ardara has a

French Doctor. We eat a meal of five-Star quality at Castle Murray House, a hotel and restaurant run by Claire and Thierry Delcros. Claire's accent

 is like a layer cake: on top there is the sing-song softness of Donegal, then schoolroom English underlaid by the lilt of her native Cognac. I fall

asleep on the way home as Chatenoud discusses Descartes. On a good day it is possible to lie in the bed and look at the sea. Way out there

across the waves is New York. Unfortunately, the mist is so thick next morning I can hardly see the path in front of me as I go to breakfast.

Chatenoud has gone to Ardara to buy freshly baked croissants. "They are better than you eat in Paris." The local bakery also makes Irish soda

bread, which is flown to London each day for sale in Harrods food hall.

Chatenoud studied philosophy at the Sorbonne. The Green Gate may be the only B&B in Ireland to have a complete set of the works of Freud

on its bookshelves. There is also an extensive collection of classical music recordings; in the late 1970s, Chatenoud opened Librarie Musicale,

the first shop in Paris specializing in books of music.
 

"When I sold up in Paris I had plenty of money. I bought a Jaguar sports car, gambled on the stock market, lived expensively. Most of my cash

was soon gone. I came to Donegal and rented a cottage to write a book - about life and love. I thought I would win the Nobel Prize; but it is still

not published. I had to make a living so I opened a B&B."

There is a long, philosophical pause. Another sod of turf is placed on the fire. Christopher, the pet robin, lands on the window still. "Life is so

strange. I am glad I lost that money. If I still had had it I would probably be drinking myself to death in Paris. I would certainly not be here."

I drive off to explore the surroundings. I walk on a long, deserted beach, a friendly local sheepdog for company. Donegal is known as Ireland's

forgotten county. Geographically part of the province of Ulster, it is shunned by most southerners. Yet it probably has the most beautifully

rugged coastline in all of Ireland. I can just make out the cliffs through the Atlantic spray and fog.
 

I am the only guest. On my second night, we go down to Nancy's bar in Ardara. There is a big fire, a dog called Guinness, crab claws to eat and

chat full of local gossip and scandal. Margaret McHugh, the immaculately turned out woman of the house, is a well-preserved grandmother with

a quicksilver brain and a naughty sense of humour.

Chatenoud is divorced. His 16-kear-oldson comes to visit him regularly from Paris. "I'll have to get you fixed with some woman, so I will," says

McHugh. "The question is are you good for anything?" She giggles like a schoolgirl.
 

Donegal plays games with the visitor. the next day, as I prepare to leave, the sun bounces off the sea and turns the wild grass of the bog a

brilliant rusty color. It looks like the pelt of some mighty animal of the prairie. Chatenoud leaves me with some Proust. He tries to translate.

"Before we know solitude,  we are pre-occupied with finding out how it will be combined with other pleasures. But once we have found

solitude, those other pleasures drift away and seem irrelevant."

Ther is plenty to savour and think about the long driveback to Dublin.

   Kieran Cooke                                                                        Saturday 15th January 2000

                                                                                 LONDON ~ PARIS~ FRANKFURT- NEW YORK                                                           (London)

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The Green Gate                                                                                                    Ardara, Co. Donegal, Ireland. Phone number: +353-(0)7495-41546