Neighbor, not a relative, but head-banging nonetheless.
So, imagine you're in your mid 60s. You retire, at a traditional age, from a job as a schoolteacher. You sell your house in Toronto for a tidy profit. What do you do? Where do you chose to live?
Well, if you're this woman, you move to a small town in Quebec with a non-starter real estate scene (a lot of houses people bought in the 90s and now want to sell, but they stay on the market for 4-5 years). You build a freakin' ginormous house. The ginormous house (Ok, about 3K square feet over 3 full floors, not THAT ginormous by other standards, I suppose - but she lives alone and has no kids. That's 3K sq ft for one person) MUST have a long flight of stairs to get in the house, and, really, you should put your bedroom and bathroom on the top floor because "the view is better" (and lady, I hope your hips are doing GREAT when you're in your late 70s, 'cause that trek is gonna suck otherwise, and that house won't sell quckly if you need it to). Oh, and make sure you make the workers re-hang the window 4 times "to make sure they're the right hight for the view", as well as other stupid re-do-the-work requests that they'll charge you for, which cause you to run out of money (from a Toronto house sale. HOW.) before being able to put in kitchen cupboards. Those go in a year later.
Then, proceed to interact with the locals as if you're a benevolant big city Lady (capital L) come to bring culture to the yokels - god knows THAT condescending attitude works GREAT to make those friends you were hoping to make. Ahem. Also, lady, we're 45 km away from a city with a university. The 'yokels' include 2 editors for literary journals, some university professors, business people, musicians, retired folk... please, do come to bring us culture. *grinds teeth*
Oh, and then whine that country people are SO closed off and that we're not coming to visit because we're jealous of your oh-so-gorgeous house. Right. That's the way to make friends.
Just go AWAY.