Past & present threads….
Unexpected though very exciting developments at House hunting blues. New and favourable circumstances are blowing the German couple in their quest to buy a home in Italy. They have made an offer on il Cedro and are actively involved in the ongoing negotiations. The usual. First offer rejected. Owner made a mark on the ground and said, he would NEVER cross it, and then he did. Was nudged by the real-estate agent. Good. THE LATER Earning his keep. The wife of the couple heartily agreed with him… said it seemed silly not to come to an agreement over the difference of a few Euro’s. May I say?…
this particular real-estate agent, a young man, is and has always been a congenial, available, honest!!! person and I am quite grateful for his help and participation. People like him are not often found in the real-estate business… here in Italy. What I remember from my experiences with real-estate agents in America were they were either bored housewives needing to make regular leasing payments on their late model Jaguars or, Gay men with too much personality and doctored smiles. Honesty or, much less, integrity were not on their maps. To be fair, I can tell you stories about said creatures on both sides of the Atlantic. Would raise the hair on your back or, make your hair curl. Whichever happens first. Might even make a book. But, back to the winds of blowing…
Price has been agreed upon and, apparently, a contract written and sent to the two parties for their signatures.
These kids are sharp. I say kids because, now that I am actively brushing 70 years of age, most of the World is younger. They have been remarkably thorough with their conditions, requests, solicitations, participation. Good deal. They are purchasing a house they have not seen with their own eyes. Other have sussed the place out. It passed muster. These kids took the reins and are riding well and onto a happy conclusion. They have my respect and admiration.
But, not so quickly for others. I have comments…
I have followed clients over the years, apparently successful and wealthy individuals, couples, who have bought properties at home where they live full-time, and yet, in doing the same in Italy, chuck Good Sense or, simply and completely ignored the procedures, details and the questions to ask in buying or, selling property here or, they have blindly deferred to others, as if on another planet, raising their heads only when it came time to write out a check. Real-estate is no different in Italy than anywhere else in the World. One simply needs to ask the obvious questions, take the time to read the documents, which can easily be translated, reply in kind, actively participate. It’s part of the fun. Some get it. Others not.
And, it’s important…
years ago, in our own search for a home in the Lunigiana, a real-estate agent sent me an email with a listing of a hay barn. Its caption was… Potrebbe essere un gancino per Voi nella Lunigiana…. or, hook, for You & Me in the Lunigiana. T’was truly time to get things rolling after a four year off & on house hunt. Some disappointments along the road. Never did manage to see the gancino place but, a week after that email, You & I were on our way to acquiring il Poggiolo. Our circumstances, our attitude had changed, allowing us to find just the place to our liking and budget. When it happens, it can happen fast. Wake up. Be attentive. You & I did. Same story for the German couple.
Now, I wonder if they are planning some kind of celebration? Understand they had three wedding parties. Our German friends sure know how to party. They drink. An indication for a good party in my book. They’re young.
No special reason but, I thought I would mention it anyway…
the first bit of colour, say around mid-February, harkening the arrival of Spring, is the yellow of Forsythia or, January Jasmine, if you come from The Deep South. You HATES yellow flowers. Forsythia is one vigorously prohibited, as is any other yellow flower, for that matter, in our garden at il Poggiolo. Right now though, at the end of September and with the 21st behind us, the garden of il Poggiolo is overrun by yellow. Cistus plants and its yellow blooms. An oversight on my part. The tag showed white-ish flowers. I bought several. And, I am probably and deplorably not good at obeying Rules & Regulations. From anyone. Duplicating the previous mistake and, oblivious to the pre-declared edict/s, I extracted from an abandoned house’s garden these stalky, flowery things with huge, bright yellow flowers. I thought they look charming, festive things. They were weeds. WEEDS!!! Now, You & I are indentured to pulling up these abhorrent flore at every whisper of their germination. And, as the culprit, I must endure You’s grumblings on why I cannot follow The Rules & Regulations. His Rules & Regulations. Not mine. Yet, a Lesson learned and not repeated to date. Only to defend myself. Though, in hindsight, I wonder why, after twenty-one years of sharing real-estate, canines, stuff, You hasn’t gotten the Math about me? Oh, well. Got news for the man despite whatall. The last flowers of Summer are these daisy looking flowers… in Small, Medium & Large dimensions… and in the same darn yellow colour You hates so much. Must mar his views of the Lunigiana landscape driving in his beat-up AUDI from Aulla to Codiponte. Oh, well.
And, for the moment…
as for A light at the end of the tunnel, You & I are happily inside enjoying the warmth of our two newly fitted out fireboxes and, weary from our collective and individual toils with our latest adventure in Home Improvements. YIPPEE!!! The Dog’s keen too though he dislikes the noise I make loading logs onto a raging fire. Ahime’… But, Good Riddance to those toils. Not the attitude to take, yet really, folks, too much time and stress and over my dead body to suit a sensitive soul as mine. I earned my 68 years old. Cannot speak for You. Un carroarmato.
I want everyone to know, however, You single-handedly re-hung and placed everything you see in the above photos. As many insiders are aware of, I do not drive nails into walls. Gives me the creeps. And, I hate to see freshly painted stucco walls marred by a misplaced slam of the hammer, creating unsightly defects… ugly shots of white, so evident with our Signature Blue.
Yes, ladies & gentlemen, You diligently worked for two days during our last weekend to return what all to their previous-places/former-homes/roosting-positions. Dusting & cleaning were also involved. Required several referrals to my iPhone photos stocks and a great amount of patience…. ON EVERYONE’S PART, THE DOG INCLUDED!!! Oh, and my wisely arranged absence from the premises. I worked in the garden, making amends for the lack of a three month avoidance, due to the extreme heat & humidity in these parts we citizens of Codiponte and elsewhere must now currently endure. After a stint of staying inside in relative cool, but with n’er a window or, shutter even cracked a tiny bit, I might now gladly huddle on an iceberg in a down parka holding a placard calling for more efforts to stem Global Warming. Sadly, I can’t get a flight out of Pisa Airport to go anywhere.
I now have to pay off everyone involved in the initiative.
Unexpected project...
Archive post February 21, 2019…
Like out of the blue!
Tending to the many Tasks-at-hand, and here’s an Updated List:
Dog Fence is in. And it has successfully prohibited any canine escape to sniff & plunder the precincts near about to Il Poggiolo. Nina-beena can no longer trot off to a plot of grass at the end of a neighbor’s courtyard above us and conveniently accessed through a two-way iron gate once a short flight of slate steps have been navigated. Nina-beena is becoming old & infirm. And, in particular, having bowed and unsteady hind parts makes stairs a daunting gymnastic. These denizens of the Borgo Castello toss their pranzo & cena left-overs for the cats. One fears that a chicken bone or two might be included in what was chucked. Meanwhile, The Croesus-person is denied his high-tails in a lateral direction to sniff the lower sectors near another neighbor’s house, tragically painted in a near day-glo ochre color, which will NEVER fade over Time, and where the cats seem to take what was gotten from above to dine upon hidden in Quite & Peace.
Called in our intrepid electrician… 10 years in our employ and n’er the word, No, from his lips… and indeed is a congenial Italian elf-of-a-man given to expressing opinions on pretty much everything, including topics outside his professional competence. Good that his suppositions are often of a sound & practical value… to revamp some light connections, mount a new one, where Darkness & Gloom reigned thick, and add exterior & interior light switches with heavy-duty outlets too. He is still searching for a replacement plastic door to our main electrical box. I had to assault it to Total Destruction with an IKEA screw-driver, when the key snapped off in the door’s lock. All in a nervous attempt to restore ASAP our electricity after it had mysteriously gone off. I am more than content on the improvements.
No word from our Cowboy Builder about coming to construct and install the two fireboxes for the LR & DR of La Casa Grande. The dude is currently working on a house project in some remote place not covered by any telephone network. Only if I am so lucky to remember to try him during the Pausa Pranzo, when he descends into a more accessible area of civilisation or, before he switches off his late 1990’s mobile as he strides into the OK-Corral, where he bunks with his latest girlfriend.
And, I am experiencing the latest chapter… Chapter 29… in a continuing saga to have repaired and/or restored many of Il Poggiolo’s wood painted windows & doors, so sadly ruined by rain, wind, heat and cold in our part of the Lunigiana. I had an appointment scheduled just this morning at 8:30AM. CANCELLED at 8:11AM. No replies to any of my whatsapps expressing availability until 2PM this afternoon. As Scarlet once remarked… Tomorrow is another day!
But onwards with the story…
…You mentioned… No! Wrong verb… INSISTED!!!… on the telephone a few days ago an ardent wish of His that someone come and re-do-nearly-everything about the Grassy Terrace right above the Apt. Azzurro. It’s the one with Mr. Hercules at the far end. News to me. Before I could ask even A Questions like… Are you ready to have a bull-dozer enter the garden and wrought its havoc upon our terrain?… I was compelled to listen to what sounded like one of You’s pre-meditated and extensive programs of rendering our humble home more gentile rather than leave it a farm-house, as it has been for the last 800 less 10 years of its Life. Again, I thought… Are you ready to have a bull-dozer enter the garden and wrought its havoc upon our terrain? Adding… just so you can adjust a slope?
The provocation brought back memories. We had to ask Our Builder… a trans-located Sardinian, who, though bravo in resolving issues of construction, was also a genius for creating new & nerve racking ones of his own making and to our suffering… because the garden actually had become an inclined garbage dump. Builders and staff are ALWAYS & NOTORIOUSLY a messy folk. The Builder’s nephew, a fierce-some kid of 20 decorated with piercings every-which-way and capped by a bush-whacked punk hair-cut, arrived with a mini-bull-dozer capable of swivelling 360 degrees…. in either sense. He joyously careened from one trash-strewn mound to another, levelling, grading, excavating, moving Ol’ Mother Earth in all her Local Majesty to give us terraces for which we might possibly plant grass. The machine, in his adroit hands, was like a joy-stick of movement & glee. In two days, the kid had altered a dump into a gentile cascade of dirt terraces, ready for semination. Done, he drove off into the sunset with his mini-bull-dozer only to be met occasionally again in nearby pizzerias.
Enough of my reverie… You was avid to arrest what to Him appeared to be an unmistakable slant to the slope off the row of fruit trees and assorted clumps of lavender down to the boxwood hedges below. Fine, I said, it goes at the bottom of The List. What? Well, of course, without a doubt, most assuredly but, I don’t want you to forget about it! I had to reply… Bull-dozer, You, repeat after me, bull-dozer. It would be an aid to Our Mutual Progress & Tranquility of us participants, if You would communicate these Desires with a more casual air. I get a Panzer Division. Rest assured, the Grassy Terrace Repair is now on The List, once I had figured out what The Real Truth was: the slight slope of the Grassy Terrace disturbed the distant point of focus of Mr. Hercules, bought at auction at catawiki.it. (Delivery cost more than the statue.) Makes sense, I can see that, quite right, You. If he had only said so at the beginning, I might have saved on tranquillisers. Italians! So un-transparent and hyper-.