Living, or Surviving the Italian Dream?

2009 Round Up

2009-12-30T15:50:00.000-08:00

Now, where were we? Somewhere between December 2008 and December 2009 and all that in there is. To begin at the beginning, well not the beginning exactly but after the end of the flourish. We are here:- still living in the big house with all of the major restructuring complete, working on the ‘church’ house with all of the major restructuring complete, up to our ears in stone, blocks, bricks, toilet pans, basins, tiles, 1 luxury spa bath made in China and any number of shutters (too many to count) all to be laid, installed, filled, grouted and hung. The building gangs who rampaged around the site throwing up walls and dropping great gobs of concrete into copious cavities, who tapped and knocked and drilled and cursed while the costs were pumping up as fast as their adrenalin, have long gone and with them the remainder of our budget.

Work continues but at a reduced pace. There are just the two of us now and my husband, a registered builder here in Italy is working for clients as well, when the opportunity arises, but it’s very difficult to edge your way into the Italian market. Thankfully there are plenty of expats in the community who make up our client base; may they continue to invade our airports in search of the ‘good life’ and may all of the hillocky little rock piles for sale at ridiculously inflated prices be converted into their dream homes.

In the meantime good things are developing in the church house. We’ve installed another wood-burner-boiler combination fire, aptly named ‘Vulcano’ (first one installed in the big house), which provides hot water and central heating throughout but more importantly nothing appears as welcoming as a glorious, roaring log fire, spitting and crackling behind it’s glass shield. The heart of the house has been installed.

We’ve gone for a modern / traditional mix in the church house and you know what it’s like, thumbing through the glossies looking for inspiration when you spot a simple little feature you know will make all the difference. Never believe that anything simple appears in the pages of a designer magazine; it didn’t get there by dint of being simple. Oh no; it looks simple, that’s the whole point but don’t think that you are going to conjure up the same effect with a few sticks of pine, a swatch of left-over curtain fabric and a strategically placed IKEA lamp. No sirree, it aint never gonna happen! And so it was with the concealed chimney breast light. Just a narrow channel cut lengthways into the chimney breast radiating a soft white light without any visible workings. “We’ll have that”, I heard myself saying and believe me we will. My husband has less hair than when he started on this project and we have accumulated a number of objects, some expensive, some not so, which have been abandoned in a heap or relegated to the skip in pursuit of the ‘designer’ look, all of which didn’t quite ‘do’ it. I even contacted the designer via email to ask how he did it; I didn’t expect a reply and I didn't get one. But hey, it’s starting to look less like an accident and more like something intended. You will need to watch this space for the real deal, coming soon.

Now, another little design feature, an original this time, is the pill box in the bedroom. It’s actually a fixture behind which the wardrobes will be hidden and to which the bed will abut. Snazzy eh? In this way the bed is positioned almost centre of the room which leaves the four walls of the room free for other necessary bedroomy things. Two slots were cut into the fixture at an appropriate height to serve as little alcoves to store your night time things, little pots, books etc.; a clever design detail by way of a substitute for bedside cabinets for which there is no space. On paper it didn’t look like a pill box but in the stone-cold, sober light of day wearing a heavy coat of grey render, well, I can see the similarities. A dab of camouflage decoration to the walls and a little Focke suspended from the ceiling and we can make it a theme room!

DogBlog December

2009-12-20T06:36:00.000-08:00

July, 2009

Another sad passing. This time Monte, the miscreant of the duo with the freckly nose, whose playful growl sounded like a high-pitched rumble and who thought that by contorting his face, sucking in his jowls and shaking his head from side to side he could look threatening and which only served to make him look like he was chewing a wasp, is gone. We did everything to ensure that we started on the right foot; training them from pups. We did everything Cesar (Milan) advised. Taught them to respect the hierarchy of the pack and to know that they are bottom, taught them social skills although they always behaved like hooligans around other male dogs, and taught them not to steal food from the table (difficult when the height of the kitchen surfaces are at their eye level ). But there was always a problem with Monte, a spark of unruliness that developed into aggression and not premeditated either so that no-one really quite knew what he was about. There were some quite serious warnings but thankfully no serious outcomes and so after much discussion and with heavy hearts we entrusted him to the angels. Now, without the influence of his rebel brother, Giorgio has blossomed into an angel, docile and gentle, and has become quite the main attraction in the village with the children and parents alike. Monte lives on in the rascal in Giorgio's eyes.

Catch-Up September - December

2008-12-15T07:08:00.000-08:00

The church house, so named because the builders think that the house needs only a cross mounted to the main roof above the oval window and they say churchgoers would beat a path to the door. How very droll! In England, most people love the idea of buying an old chapel to convert but when the specifications for a new build have been drawn to our design (without any religious characteristics in mind) and the building is nicknamed La Casa Chiesa, it takes on a comical slant, which seems to delight the builders. I have to admit that whilst standing in the body of the building with the sun streaming down on me through the oval window I wondered just for a second if this was a heavenly sign, a calling. Perhaps it has always been our fate to come to this place and erect this building here, a place of worship, and you know, it used to be a stable! Is this what they call 'seeing the light'? And then, blinking up into the glare waiting for that finite moment of truth, somebody dropped a scaffold pole and a cry of "Attenzione" echoed around the hollow building. If it wasn't the call I was expecting it was the one I was meant to hear. A resounding great CLANK brought me out of my reverie and I scuttled off. I was sure I heard just a faint snickering from the builders direction!

Amazing progress has been made since September 2008 but then we've had two amazing teams of builders. They're a hungry lot though and they've eaten their wedge of the budget before Christmas. We have to continue under our own steam now (I can feel the callouses on my hands already) and it's anybody's guess whether we can finish in time for next summer. All the windows, doors and mosquito nets (integrated) have been fitted to all buildings and we are just waiting for the shutters to arrive. There is no such thing as a standard size window or door here so everything is made-to-measure at enormous expense, the craftsmanship is generally good though.

It's one of the most important costs to consider when renovating an old building so always make sure that it's one of the first estimates you obtain after the construction costs. Cost of windows and doors, mosquito nets and shutters as follows:

2 x double windows with segmented arches above in pine (no mosquito net) 2,532 euros
2 x oval windows in pine 1,487 euros
1 x double window satin glazed in pine with mosquito net
516 euros
1 x double door half glazed in pine (no mosquito net)
with Yale lock 1,096 euros
1 x single door half glazed (as above) in pine with Yale lock 838 euros
1 x double shutter louvred, alluminium to look like pine 550 euros
Grand total for all windows, doors, mosquito nets and shutters for all three buildings 45,600 euros which includes fitting.

This goes a long way to explaining why there are so many properties for sale here which have been restructured to what's known as 'builders finish' which means sold without bathrooms, kitchen, windows, doors, flooring, decoration, plumbing and electrics. So whilst the cost of the property may appear reasonable and it may be easy to visualise the final finish, a buyer will need to carefully consider the cost to complete. This is the scarey end of the budget and depending on the type of finish you want it could easily double your cost. The Italian builder knows this and whilst they tell you that it makes sense to leave the finishing to the clients discretion, more often than not the cost to finish it is prohibitive.

Both loggias, one to the main house and one to the church house are finished and now that the windows and doors have been fitted it's all beginning to take shape. I would have liked to have said shipshape but the area around the buildings (previously referred to as a garden) refutes any suggestion of that, it looks more like a dump site set on a morass.

It's perilously dangerous trying to negotiate a path to the wood store or the dog pen avoiding the mud and at present, the ice. Twice, so far I have lost my footing, on both occasions with the dogs who set about me with that boisterous fervour reserved for 'games'. Only one soggy ear and all bones intact so life is good!

Next month: progress indoors and the complicated workings of an Italian builders estimate.

DogBlog September - December

2008-09-28T08:59:00.001-07:00

Good-Bye Clank.

Sadly, Clank has died. (To read more about Clank, see our DogBlog April.) As sorry as I am to lose our little four legged neighbour who lived under the fig tree, there is a huge sense of relief that he is no longer suffering. Since we started to feed him in April, which was always in ample proportions, he never put on any weight. I'm not sad that he is gone but I am sad that he died without someone to comfort him. I hope he's gone to a better place where there aren't any chains and he can chase butterflies amongst the flowers. We still pass his spot every day; his kennel is still there and the fig tree is losing its leaves now that autumn is upon us but I can feel his presence and the dogs still look for him. He will never be forgotten, our little dog with the misty eyes.

Ever since we adopted the boys, they have played together, in fact when we found them in the garden they were locked in combat, tumbling patches of pink and fur venting soft, purring growls with an occasional yap, and 19 months on it's much the same only the decibel level has reached dangerous proportions. There's nothing in Cesar's book that tells you how to cope with noisy game play and in fact whenever we pay a visit to the Vet she always asks if they are playing together and extolls the importance of game playing as a principal factor in a healthy development. But, I don't think anybody realises just what this involves and although I can try and describe it you can not imagine the intensity of the noise. Their postures resemble those of mating seals; their bodies prostrate on the floor, if not facing each other then close enough for their necks and heads to touch enabling a direct face-off.

There follows a lot of lunging from the shoulders and head and jaw clapping motions directed at each other but without any intent other than vocal. A high pitched YIP will ellicit the response of an even higher pitched YAP and this exchange will continue until the YIPs and the YAPs reach such a pitch that a human ear can no longer bear it. The lunging abates when the YIP/YAP's segue into the most blood curdling howls and moans, then noses are set to the sky, throats elongated for the best delivery. Of course we had to stop allowing these games whilst they are in the house and if we catch a glimpse of them shuffling up together and a bit of excitable snuffling starting to develop (a sure sign that a YIP/YAP is brewing) we throw a ball into the middle of them hoping to divert their attention. Such games outside, in the pen is fine (well, for us, not for the builders who are working close by) but only because we have no neighbours to speak of but I'm sure the YIP/YAP's and howling can be heard in the village which is a mile away. I'm quite sure that this posturing is not unique to our boys but I would dearly like to know if anyone else has experienced this behaviour in their animals and more importantly at what age it ceases. If I ever manage to master the art of transferring video to my blog I will post just a short example of them in communication. If you've never seen it before it will amaze you; I'll regulate the volume for safe listening though.

Next Month: Meet the little fox cub who visits at night and leaves his mark!

Ferragosto and Frustration

2008-08-29T00:30:00.000-07:00

The Pool house formerly the bread/pizza oven house

In August Italy closes down, well not all of it, the touristy places remain open, but that's what Ferragosto is all about. This is when the Italians take their holiday, anything from one week to four, businesses usually only two. But you have to plan carefully for it if you want to be able to buy building materials etc. because the suppliers will not always take the same two weeks. The Italians of course can't understand why we foreigners don't look forward to and enjoy Ferragosto as much as they do and just take a month out to chill but the word 'deadline' is anathema to the Italians and most of us foreigners are working to one! In Italy a finishing date can not be predetermined, it is when it is. To the likes of us trying to manage the restructure of three buildings and hoping to open next year for summer letting, a month off is just too much to swallow. So we planned for it and battled on in the August heat along with our Romanian builders. Hey, I've just found a wonderful article in the 'Italy' magazine (August edition) which I am about to reproduce for my blog readers especially those who are thinking 'does she ever stop whinging'. This is a transcript of an email sent to somebody who is restructuring a house in Umbria and who is experiencing all the same problems as every other investor of a 'do up' here. I don't know anything about copyright laws but I do know that it's one of the funniest articles I have read so here it is: "THE VOICE OF EXPERIENCE. Just a word of caution. Don't expect miracles and be pleasantly surprised if anything like 'divine intervention' occurs. The biggest source of frustration/angst/anger amongst many who embark on the renovation escapade is that they try to impose Northern European timetables. There are many lovely aspects to Italy - timetabling or working in 'concert' is not one of them. I know that you are anxious to finish and quite logically cannot see why, by your own standards of production and hard work, this will not be achieved ... Ma siamo in Italia. I don't want to dash your hopes but you can save yourselves a huge amount of angst by realising that everything happens here, just not to a timetable that any known cosmic forces could predict. But when in the not-too distant future you sit watching the sun go down with a glass of vino in hand, it will be all part of life's rich tapestry. I am not known for my patience and so Italy has been good for me; lowered my blood pressure because the forces are too strong to push against (though I do). It is survival: face the inevitable or die: pour another glass of Sagrantino ... Amen." It's good to know that we are part of a bigger 'family'.

Alessandro the sandblaster and Dean our little helper

The brothers from Kosovo finished putting the roof on the new house and then went home for three weeks to celebrate a wedding (one of their own) and so far only two have returned; the groom has remained for a further 15 days. Anyway the returning two are to recommence work on the new house tomorrow. I can't say that we haven't enjoyed some peace whilst they were away. We've only had half a labour force but things have really started to develop. The old pizza/bread oven has been demolished and has virtually been rebuilt as the new pool house.

Kristian, the plumber and Adriano, builder

Adino, Il Capo and Michele, his son

And so the builders, plumbers, sandblasters and anybody else who continues to work during the month of August forge ahead and in terms of visible progress the development has been remarkable. We are starting to look at the plans for the swimming pool which have been laid to rest for two years and as is normal when things have progressed so far and we have had to accommodate all the changes resulting from new ideas, new building regs and unforseen nasties, it no longer fits in the grand picture. So hey ho, we have to think again; a bit more stress, a few more arguments but we always manage to turn it around. There is a wonderful saying I live by: NOTHING CAN WITHSTAND THE FORCE OF SUSTAINED THINKING and it's true, nothing can.

Dogblog August

2008-08-22T03:38:00.001-07:00

Ella

People with dogs are drawn to people with dogs which is how we met Maureen and Windsor at a house party in Gualdo. When the conversation gravitates towards 'our babies' and we start sharing anecdotes and photographs there's no stopping us. No risk of boredom setting in with this topic; it's our favourite. Unlike the 'Doting Mothers and their Children' party bores, doggy people don't go in for one-up-manship but marvel and coo at the antics of any dumb creature. And so we were invited to supper and to meet 'ELLA' Maureen and Windsor's 3 year old Bernese babe. And she is a babe. Whereas our boys are cumbersome and awkward and always look like rugby players after a scrum, Ella is elegant and serene and manages a pose without trying. Not that she doesn't have all the same traits as any boisterous young pup, as Maureen says, "she is an accomplished thief". Trophies include emery boards, a couple of pairs of reading glasses, workmens' tools and current favourite, gardening gloves. Nearly acquired, but sadly caught red-handed, a pair of binoculars. It's just that I see her more as a David Niven in the Pink Panther and not the typecast 'bungling thieves' more befitting Monte and Giorgio. Anyway, Ella has featured in a book "The Southern Bernese Year Book 2007/2008" so what about that for stardom! I'm wondering if there is a publication called "I Cani da Pastore Maremmano Abruzzese" which might like to feature my ever so slightly unhinged boys.

The Lady

and the Tramp

Now this could easily be one of my boys ~ Monte I think, knicknamed 'The Scruffian' ~ but it isn't. This is RAMBO. If ever there was a misnomer it was this one. RAMBO no no no. Chaplin, Scruffy, Bonzo, Scooby Do, Mutley but not RAMBO. I don't know him very well so maybe beneath the informal tie and the waistcoat lies a Baskervillian temperament but I can't see it myself. Rambo belongs to some Italian friends; he's a guard dog!!

Monte ~ our little 'Scruffian' grows more handsome by the day. He has a freckly nose ~ his kissy spot and boy does he get kissed. My husband minds that his nose is always 'rosy' from lipstick, Monte doesn't!

The boys are inseparable. They are separated, sometimes for a few short minutes if I walk them individually from the house out to their pen. If I don't return within minutes for the second one, frenzied barking and howling sets up from both quarters and there is nothing I can do to suppress it until both dogs are reunited. I've never experienced anything quite like this before but then we've never had two pups together from the same litter. I met a woman at the Vet's who told me she had rescued two hunting dogs, obviously brothers, and that they too are inseparable. And also, like our two they will run off given the chance so she came up with a cunning plan which, so far has proven to be very effective. Our situation is that the dogs have their own shed (for shed read semi furnished apartment) contained within a pen, when they are not living in the house with us. This woman, not having the benefit of a contained area has to tie the dogs up when they are outside which restricts their freedom somewhat. She is not happy about it, and I suspect, neither are the dogs. So, taking advantage of the fact that one dog will not go anywhere without the other, she ties up only one dog and allows the other the freedom of the garden and alternates them each day. Now, I'm thinking, could this work for us. I'm going to try it. Success or disaster? Find out next month.

Blacky has become 'one of the boys' and has moved into the new apartment and pen with Monte and Giorgio. He has the benefit of a cat hatch cut into the door of the pen so he can come and go as he pleases. He favours Giorgio and has to sleep next to him. Either one will always have one paw reaching over the other. What's that all about ~ adoration, domination, protection? Whatever, we couldn't have a more amicable trio.

Heat and Dust

2008-07-12T09:59:00.001-07:00

Thankfully summer has arrived and brought with her a gaggle of builders. Oh, to hear the unremitting banter of Serbian, Albanian, Bosnian and any other unrecognisable patois however chattery. It's all sweet, sweet music to my ears. So long as it accompanies the sounds of hammers bashing, concrete mixers sloshing and drills whining there is no better tonic for she who is waiting to move into her new home. I don't envy them working in the heat though, temperatures now between 30 degrees and 40 but even that has its benefits ~ young bare-chested men, bronzed and toned, swanning around the site. They're like a breath of fresh air and the best part is that I get to take the photographs of them for the blog. No shortage of pictures this month!

We're up to roof level and it feels good. I've been chatting with the builders about 'topping out' explaining that the custom in England is to celebrate with champagne. Now, maybe I'm being led by the nose a bit but The Brothers have told me that it's the same in Italy only the clients have to stand their builders a slap up supper. Hmmm, I was hoping to get out on a couple of bottles of prosecco and a few finger dainties.

And don’t think the activity stops with the new house. Whilst the Brothers are having ‘Sloppy Molly to Go’ delivered by the lorry load the men working on the main house are doing it by hand (fatto a mano) and the air is filled with the sound of the mixers revolving endlessly and the wheelbarrows bouncing over the temporary wooden bridges.

The thing about this stage of building is that none of it is silent and you become used to the constancy of its noise until that is, something different interrupts the monotony like the intrusive ‘parp’ of the lorries signalling the arrival of more cement and blocks or a ‘Kango’ reverberating around the house, engaged in devouring our aged walls.

Oh, and while I remember what do you make of these cool, little black boxes? (Sorry, forgot to take a picture of the whole floor laid end to end with them). They are called ‘igloos’ unsurprisingly and when they are installed they make a suspended floor to provide ventilation to the earth and the lower walls. Tubes from the igloos are vented through the external walls, concrete poured over the top, and hey presto, the floor can breathe. Now, here’s a sorry tale with a happy ending. Whilst we were in bed one night we were kept awake by the crying of a cat; it was quite a soft mew but consistent. Thinking it was our own ‘Blacky’ who was crying to get in, we got up a couple of times and called him to the door but he didn’t come. The cat was still mewing the next morning when the builders arrived and they told us they were concerned that a cat had got in under the igloos and had been concreted in the new floor. So Kango to the fore, a small hole was made in the concrete base and a little plate of tuna fish set at a short distance. To help the kitty enticing aroma reach its target, we wafted a tin tray back and forth to create a draught, all the while shouting “Here kitty, kitty”. Pathetic, I know, but you’ll do anything in a crisis. It was all worth while; after lunch when the builders returned, the tuna fish had gone and so had kitty.

And there’s more. If all the activity of the team building the new house and the team renovating the main house isn’t enough, my husband and his team are building a wood shed (somewhere to store the logs) and a wooden shed (somewhere to store my gardening gadgets which were ejected from the chicken shack cum bread oven following its demolition).

Many hands mean lots of progress but however well you think your project is planned every day starts with a flurry of questions requiring immediate answers. It’s not unusual at 8.00am to find a circle of heads bowed over the plans and drawings laid out on the kitchen table amid the coffee cups and the pencilled scribblings as ideas and variations are bandied about. Exhilarating! Beats looking out of the window wondering if they're going to turn up.

DogBlog June

2008-06-27T05:26:00.000-07:00

My name's Giorgio Clooney ~ My name's Monte Cain

If your name's not on
the list, you can't
come in!

One of a series of photographs of the boys from a photo shoot to produce a 'WOW' picture for the cover of a 'Thank You' card which was sent to their 'minders' Barry and Wendy who looked after them when we were away in England. It turns out they were treasures so all the training 'Cesar Millan' way is beginning to pay off. Any training of course, is dependent on consistency so what must Barry and Wendy think when the boys, en route home from their walk, dig in their heels and jab their noses in the direction of Da Cicco', the little village bar. One would think, quite rightly, that they are regular visitors there. Their woolly heads are controlled entirely by salivary glands so tempted by ice cream cones and biscuits provided on occasion by Patrizio the owner it would be foolish to pass by without at least, a recce.

Which leads me on to 'What does your Dog say about you?'

This is Polo, our previous dog, a white german shepherd rescue from the Blue Cross in Northiam, East Sussex. He was 4 years old when we bought him. We brought him to Italy with us but sadly he died just before Christmas 2006. Without ever knowing where he came from (although we did know some of his history ~ he had a few behavioural problems) we learned a good deal about the family he had lived with previously. He wouldn't play and was reluctant to touch any toys, especially those that resembled "baby" toys. I bought him a teddy bear from a boot sale and he avoided it for a long time. Maybe he was getting mixed messages from us. Perhaps his previous family had children and he had been taught not to touch their belongings. When he lived with us we allowed him in the dining room when we were eating but he never approached the table until the last knife and fork was laid to rest. He did this every mealtime with military precision, talk about scrupulous table manners! He was nervous at raised voices and swear words ~ he recognised most of them sadly, and hung his head the minute he detected the slightest change in mood for the worse. He would dip his head the moment somebody picked up a tea towel which made us think that perhaps one had been used in the past as an instrument of correction. But he recognised phrases like "I have to go out" when he would retire to his bed and collapse into it with a big sigh and "Do you want to come to the office?" which prompted excited yelping and spinning around in circles at the door. Our office, part of a purpose built garage conversion was only at the bottom of the garden but he loved to go there and he was happy there. So much so that sometimes he didn't want to come back to the house, so we left him there and renamed the office 'The Dog House'. He was also very comfortable travelling in a car which is just as well since the back of the Land Rover was his home for 3 days when he travelled to Italy with us. Thank goodness Dr. Doolittle is just a figment of someones imagination.
We've put gagging orders on our two!!

He found a little playmate in the village, a semi-stray who used to tag along with us on our walks. We called her 'cucciola' (pronounced cooch-ola) the Italian word for puppy. She would follow us for miles so we had to put her in the car at the end of the walk and drive her back to her 'spot'. Coincidence ~ but notice the 'red collar worn cool' trend.

The Good, the Bad and the Hopeful

2008-06-03T02:27:00.000-07:00

The new house is going up, sloooowly. Bit difficult to recognise but we are looking through the door to the living area from the loggia.

The stone work is truly a work of art and it hasn't been pointed or cleaned yet. Q: What do you do when you are convinced that you have chosen the best team of builders for the job but so far, it appears that our allocation of their time constitutes only two days per week (when the weather is good)? A: You have a little word in the ear of the Capo, that's what. Not too severe a word though, coaxing I think is the best bet, dangling the carrot with the promise of more work, although if he owned a race horse and he found himself sharing his bed with its head it might bring a tad more pressure to bear and of course, that's more to my way of persuasion. I suppose like most Italian builders (which they're not) they have this fear of turning away work in case they find themselves without any, but in the 'spreading themselves too thinly' we would at least like to know if we're talking skinny or anorexic.

The build site.

Elusive or not, the brothers are stars. They are not the least bit embarrassed about having their photographs taken for the blog and will pose for me whenever I get ‘snap’ happy with the camera. There is a sort of childhood innocence about them and I like them all. There is a new émigré, a nephew; he’s only 16 years old.

Flown the nest to come and work in a foreign country with his uncles and cousin. It may be a scary thought to all Mums and Dads out there but Rystem, the Capo is like a Godfather to them all and watches over them with genuine pride. The background on the family business is very much a success story and every bit of it earned. Rystem left Kosovo 16 years ago and moved to Italy. Disadvantaged by the language barrier (not that he sees it as such) he became a shepherd for four years and then got himself a job working for a builder. After four years learning the trade he branched off on his own and is now a registered and respected family builder growing in numbers by the year. Eight years ago, a brother, Mazlem joined him here; one year ago, three more brothers and a cousin and this year a nephew. Mazlem, as the second longest serving brother is the under Capo, the rest I think are still ‘serving their time’.

There is nothing more binding than a family, the Sicilians will tell you that and watching them develop under the keen and discerning eye of Rystem makes you glad to know them. They are the hardest workers I think I have ever met. Unfortunately for us, I’m not the only one who thinks that; they are in such demand that just to get a glimpse of them once a week makes you somehow feel grateful!!! Out of interest, Rystem did say that he hopes to return to Kosovo one day. (Ijust hope that he might return HERE one day.) When I asked if he would continue his building business there, he said “No, I intend to retire very rich!” In the meantime I have agreed to post as many photos of the family on the blog so that the Kosovan contingent can check in regularly and coo over their distant loved ones.

Next month: Who knows?

DogBlog May

2008-05-20T23:50:00.000-07:00

DOG ENDS

Full of good intentions. When we acquired our dogs, we determined to train them the ‘Cesar Millan’ way and we have been fairly disciplined about it. Cesar supports the ‘all humans are the pack leaders’ logic and as such we should maintain a ‘calm assertive’ stance at all times, and dogs should be encouraged to be ‘calm submissive’. If you have ever tried to teach a pup (no, to be precise, two pups) to be calm submissive you will know just how trying that can be. I’m sure we’ll get there in the end ~ speriamo. Another philosophy of Cesar is that it is normal for dogs as pack animals to sleep together so for those of you who allow your dogs to sleep with you this is perfectly acceptable, so long as they have a given space, i.e. at the bottom of the bed or on the floor. Not for us though the bed sharing thing, volume being the problem. They take up more space than us if you count the wieldiness of their legs and Monte snores to boot. So, our ‘pack time’ is the evening when the dogs are allowed into our living space but, until now, not on the sofa. In a moment of weakness we allowed Giorgio to climb up next to us. Within an hour the sofa was ‘taken over’ and has now become a dog domain. No clean living human being would sit on it again. And so the dogs have gained a bed; it will be moved down into the cowshed (the dog den) and will take pride of place amongst the gnawed toys and the chewed collection of sticks nicked from the log pile. But they are not pampered!

They may be big, they may be cumbersome but Blacky, the cat is fearless. He will make a nuisance of himself until one of the dogs gives up his bed for him. Surprisingly, they always do.

The boys made a bid for freedom again this week and surprised us all not least the builders who were working on the new house. They may not be Italian (coming as they do from Kosovo) but they are born with the same fear the Italians have of large dogs. It’s not unusual to hear a bit of unrecognisable banter between them (remember they are all brothers bar one, who is a cousin and in my experience family conflicts are the loudest) and sometimes it can become rather heated. I was in the garden plucking out some herbs when I heard a rather different tone, a good deal more emphatic than the usual raillery. Whilst I was wondering what sort of dilemma could have brought on such an outburst, Giorgio appeared behind me looking very pleased with himself for having found me. Oops ~ the dogs are out! I should add at this point that the dogs are not dangerous; it’s just that they are big boys and an excitable nudge from one of them could topple Samson added to the fact that their sense of adventure is stronger than their desire to ‘come’ even for a sausage. Monte is the chief troublemaker and if he decides to go AWOL Giorgio will follow. Giorgio on this occasion followed me back to the house but where was Monte? Ah, he’d found the builders. The Brothers immobilised by fear at the sight of Monte gallivanting around the garden appeared to be following all the rules of what to do when confronted by a wild animal. Stand absolutely still, face the aggressor, do not make any sudden moves and avoid eye contact. Maybe they stopped breathing for a while or was the grey pallor just cement dust? An amusing sight. I was very impressed with Monte as a guard dog; he pretended he didn’t know they were there at all!!! Anyway dog retrieved, brows wiped, back to work.

THE FAN CLUB

Meet William, the boys' youngest fan so far. He doesn't stand nearly as tall as them yet but is clearly delighted to be with them. All young pups together!

See pics of all fans in DogBlog February.

Turning the April Cornerstone

2008-04-29T11:55:00.000-07:00

Gianfranco ~ 'The Bulldozer'. Actually, the digger man. (Someone taught him the word 'Bulldozer' which he applies to any big earth-moving machinery.) Everybody thinks of him as a loveable rogue, loveable he is but rogue he isn't, well only in the mischievous sense. His prices beat anyone else's hands down ~ he just doesn't turn up!!!

There are a number of things I would like to own, not desperately-above-all-else sort of like to own (otherwise I would have it) more like a power and pride sort of ownership. One of them is a digger. What a wondrous piece of machinery it is. I could trundle it up the road turning over cars and knocking down houses, so much power controlled by a couple of levers. I wonder if you have to apply for a 'responsible person' licence before you can buy one of these clanking great monsters! I watched from a window while Gianfranco toppled the old garage, jabbing and teasing the walls and roof until it gave up its strength. The great iron jaw bit into the roof, again and again until the concrete and steel, fused together for decades, groaned and bowed into submission. In the end the digger won easily. Gianfranco treats his metal destroyer like a pet and leaves it to sit atop the debris like a victor with his prize.

This is exciting news of course; it means that the demolition of the old garage is done, which in turn means that the building of the new house can begin. In fact it already has; I fratelli Memedaj are the chosen builders, the five brothers from Kosovo, and in just two days the fantastic five have completed all of the steelwork and concrete for the new foundations. This is a huge achievement by anyone’s standards and by Italian standards, unheard of.

It rained one of those days but the five arrived at 7.15am to take a delivery of steel and left, after a full day’s work, at 7.00pm having had only half an hour for lunch, which they brought with them. Don’t they know that siesta is sacrosanct and that if you work within 30 minutes drive from home then you are expected to take lunch at home with your family, all five courses of it. But that’s the Italian way. Maybe the Kosovans understand the principle of ‘working to make money’. Day 2, the same. So far so good.

Days 3 - 6 extended Bank Holiday here in Italy. We were told they would be back Tuesday or Wednesday; which Tuesday or Wednesday wasn't clarified.
Days 7 - 10 (to date) ~ no sign of them! Oops, maybe Rystem the 'Capo' who learned his trade here went to the 'Gianfranco' school of ruse.

Not ONE but TWO new balconies.

To be more precise, a couple of concrete projections facing south and west; all the better for the sun my dear. The shuttering hasn't even been taken away yet but, in true Clampett style we've made one our sunset viewing platform. Couple of chairs, Blacky the cat (he's in the pic, by the way if you can spot him), a couple of glasses of wine; watching the sun set over the Monti Sibillini. Heaven!!! Suitable only for non or moderate drinkers on account of there being no hand rail.

Look what spring has brought; pretty as a peach or even a bunch, our first home-grown fruit. There’s a long way to go between now and the eating but I’m fussing over them like the passionate gardener I’ve become. At the same time learning about Peach Leaf Curl, Brown Rot, Scab and a host of other equally foul sounding blights. I’m sure they'll be fine until one of them strikes and then ....................... I’ll get in a professional!
Spring is just divine. Just look at our Poplars? Tall and straight like proud soldiers.

Who built the log pile ~ March blog? Answer: Nos. 1, 2 and 7 were built by stranieri, the rest are the real thing – Italian. I won’t name the other constructors but log pile No. 2 is ours and whilst it looks like it can hold its own with the rest this pic shows what happened after a high wind. I was reminded by my husband that the side which collapsed was erected by me! If the wood hadn't have been so green I would have tried to pass it off as a nasty accelerated case of 'Death Watch' beetle!!!

Next month ~ persistance pays; self-employment and how to make money even if you don't speak Italian fluently.

Hopefully ~ progress on the build works.

DogBlog April

2008-04-13T08:23:00.000-07:00

Meet CLANK the boys’ new friend.

CLANK is a cross husky and he lives, no survives up the road a bit from us. In all the years we have lived here, almost four, this little dog has been chained to a piece of farm machinery. We are accustomed to his howling and pitiful cries for attention. Until this year, although we passed him every day walking our old dog, we never approached him because we had been told that he would bite. This piece of advice, I think, was given to deter us from offering him friendship and as a warning not to stray onto the owners land. No-body lives there, by the way! Then, one day he managed to escape his fetter and made his way down to our garden. The boys, who were in the pound, raised the signal in the way they do and kicked up an almighty rumpus, to let us know that we had an intruder. And there he was wearing a collar and chain that would have restrained a bull. There was so much steel hanging from his neck that he walked with his front legs splayed to avoid a bashing from his heavy metal bling. He clanked towards us (I don’t need to tell you how he got his name) when we opened the door, cowering and afraid and when I offered a hand, he flopped onto his back in a typically submissive posture.

After a hearty breakfast and a bucket of water we brought him into the pound to see how he would behave around the boys. Thankfully, he was submissive with them and after they nosed and prodded him about for a while, they accepted him and he spent the rest of the day with them. He had to go back, of course and with a heavy heart we returned him to his chain and his farm machinery. We call in every morning to disentangle him from his knots, free up his chain and to give him a bit of breakfast but it breaks my heart when we leave him barking after us.

CLANK is extremely underfed, in no way aggressive and craves human touch; he would make a loyal and loveable companion. Maybe there is someone out there who is looking for such a little dog. Of course, they couldn’t have CLANK, he belongs to someone else and he wears a collar to prove it, but I’m sure we could arrange for a similar little dog, virtually the same as the one in the photographs but not wearing a collar to turn up on our doorstep if the right person were to come along!!

Who Stole the Pooh Bag, Who, who, who, who?

Ha! Somebody will have got a very unpleasant shock when they made off with a plastic bag we left at the side of the road. I can’t imagine what somebody expected to find in the little lumpy black bag tied up with a knot but you can bet your bottom dollar (what does that mean exactly?) that they wished they hadn’t been so curious as to find out. The contents ~ doggy do’s. Left at the roadside to pick up and put in the bin on the way back from the village. Maybe if it was still warm, they thought it was a bag of bagels!

The Miseries of March

2008-03-30T14:24:00.000-07:00

Spring is sprung,
De grass is swamped,
I wonder when de rain will stop.
And when it does, I look around,
There’s a not a builder to be found.
I ask them “Quando”, they answer calmly,
There’s always Domani, or Dopodomani!

March ~ rain, snow, rain, snow, rain, snow ~ mud. There is a particular member of our family who, at the very mention of the word ‘snow’ lapses into a romantic dream state, conjuring up cosy scenes of togetherness, log fires at night and snow flakes drifting by the darkened windows. How I would like to share just a corner of that dream, after all we do have roaring log fires and the snow was drifting ………. and continued to drift into cumbersome great banks hindering any progress to build works. Then the sun brings the thaw and rivers of water course through the gardens and the dog pound and muddy footprints infiltrate the house leaving a carpet of chalky clay everywhere. Ah, but it’s good to feel the sun if only for a day or two because the rains follow sun and then snow follows rain to perpetuate the cycle.
I say ‘spring is a humbug’ ~ well, this particular spring anyway. I’d like to say I don’t want to be a ‘wet blanket’ but I feel it would be a pun too far.

Everything is on hold. Well, that’s not strictly true, there’s enough work in the house to keep us busy for a year, but the order of things is disrupted. More importantly all the excitement of the demolition of the old garage and the building of our new home turns into frustration and after a few days of kind weather which should herald the arrival of the digger man and doesn’t, I remember that I live in Italy and why I came here almost four years ago. Because the pace of life is slooooooooooow.

The Italian Log Pile ~ Firewood or work of Art?

It’s not difficult to determine if they are built as a means to store firewood or if they are intended to be a work of art. One thing’s for sure, the Italians don’t go a bundle (sorry, that pun wasn’t intended) on actually burning wood; an Italians home is always freezing during the winter. But they go to enormous lengths to create a formidable pile which is admired by tourists and scrutinised by fellow Italians. (Personally, I believe it’s the yardstick by which the family’s status in the community is evaluated.) If you find that hard to believe then consider this. Log piles are not thrown together, they are created for effect. Each piece is carefully selected for its shape and size, and locked into the pile, a bit like a jigsaw puzzle. One would think that a supply of logs for burning would be situated in a place that’s easily accessible, in a shed close to the house for example. Not so, they occupy prime space, are highly visible and are never crowded by other garden paraphernalia. Sometimes log piles are erected in the middle of the triangular islands where roads cross or to denote boundaries or built as walls to divide barns, some as tall as 30 feet, all intended to be permanent features. In effect then, a work of art.

All of this seems to have rubbed off on the stranieri who are keen to achieve the same standards of ‘wood knitting’ as their Italian counterparts. Nobody wants to be caught with an unwieldy wood stack for fear of being ridiculed by their neighbours. (We have British friends here who employ an Italian to stack their wood for them. I should think that really offends the Italians knowing that ultimately it will all end up on the fire.)

So, I’ve been out and about taking snaps of local wood piles. Can you guess which of the following has been sculpted by an Italian hand? Answers will be published at the end of April.

Click on the pics to enlarge.

Next month: Answers to Log Pile Quiz.

Not even going to predict anything else!

DogBlog March

2008-03-20T10:08:00.000-07:00

About the pups.

This ‘abandoned pup’ theory. There is every possibility that the pups belonged to a local shepherd since the Maremmano is bred to live amongst and protect sheep. If the dogs have pups then the mother brings them up in the fields along with the other dogs and sheep. They follow their parents’ example and natural instinct to protect the flock. There is never any training. It seems more likely that the pups, chasing each other in play, blundered their way beyond their boundary, pitching up in our garden at Montegiorgio. Thinking about it, maybe not only were they not abandoned but maybe they weren’t lost either. Maybe, they had passed by this way before and knew their way home and maybe we didn’t rescue them but absconded with them. I mention this because following our legal adoption of them, (ownership by virtue of microchips and passports) I was chatting to a shepherd who came by the house who told us that a friend had lost two Maremmano pups and that he had been looking for them. As it is, my command of the Italian language is only get-byable but there are times when, you know, I have no idea what they are talking about!!!

So much has been said about the ‘Pastore Maremmano’ ~ that they are bad mainly (cativo is the word the Italians use), not friendly towards people and vicious towards other dogs. There are no signs yet. The Italians are terrified of them, but then the Italians are frightened of most dogs however small. Almost all Italians have a friend who has been bitten by a dog at some time in their lives which goes some way to explaining why they retreat into walls when anyone out walking a dog approaches. It’s serious fun walking the dogs through the piazza on market day!

When we first brought the pups home and before we decided to keep them we bought each of them a collar and lead. They were only three months old and they certainly didn’t look like they had ever been tethered. We had fed and watered them, shampooed and de-flead (made-up word) them and prepared to take them for their first walk on a lead. Dragging them up the road whilst they were yelping, leaping into the air and spinning like tops was not the image I’d fostered of ‘country stroll with dog’ but I held true to my philosophy and urged my husband ‘to carry on, they’ll get used to it’. (I feel a certain affinity with Prince Philip at times). After a short while I began to have some doubts about this method of training, not least because the cacophony was beginning to draw unwanted attention. Now today, what with the internet an’ all there is no excuse for ignorance so I Googled “how to train a pup to walk on a lead” and in seconds I was faced with pages of good advice. The first piece of advice I read was “NEVER DRAG A DOG UP THE ROAD YELPING AND FIGHTING THINKING THAT HE’LL GET USED TO IT” Oops, learning something new every day.

Marlon (my favourite character from 'The Perishers'), would have said "I can see right up your nose".

Men, Machinery and Shovels

2008-02-29T14:39:00.000-08:00

LAPD ~ Look and
Point Department

It’s been a month of men, machinery and shovels. Pouring concrete, digging trenches, laying pipes and shovelling stones. Talking of concrete, I don't know about you, but for me there is something wonderfully compelling about it, especially watching it pour. Just the sound, a sort of sucking woosh, has you spellbound. In fact it excites almost all of my senses, with the exception of taste; not tried it, not going to. I think it harks back to my childhood when we used to make mud pies, lumps of earth and water all stirred round with a lolly stick with a few daisy heads thrown in for decoration. I used to call it ‘Sloppy Molly’ and the pleasure of it has stayed with me to this day. Concrete deliveries draw audiences and I’m in the front row.

Most men are a bit bashful about having their photographs taken but introduce a piece of machinery or a shovel and you’ll get a pose. Then the photograph has a new dimension, a story. In this one, the roof, the doors and the drainpipes go on the bunker. How easy it is to get excited about a delivery of concrete when it heralds the beginning of the end of a big project. No 'topping out' celebration though; in the grand scheme of things it's not the significant milestone. That marker is reserved for our new home, the old garage.

At long last things have stepped up a pace. Plans have been redrawn; the originals no longer recognisable behind the scribblings and scratchings of innumerable changes.

[It can be an expensive game changing plans once they’ve been approved. We’ve changed them more than once. A sad and forlorn old farmhouse can be transformed into an impressive, idyllic country home on paper but be absolutely sure the pretty picture works for you. Check distances of swimming pools from the house or other buildings. How do you see the landscaping around the pool? If there are any special features you want make sure you have the space. Be aware that a garden shed, a wood store, even a pergola or anything else that has a roof may require planning permission. Check every space internally, especially kitchens and bathrooms, even plan furniture in the rooms. If the house is a rebuild you may be able to re-site windows and doors. Scrutinise your plans as though you are going to move into the house tomorrow. Thinking it all out is hard work and time consuming but it could save you money and/or disasters.]

The race is on to finish the ‘bunker’, demolish the old garage and commence work on our new home in its stead, develop the cowsheds, landscape the garden and build the swimming pool by next summer. I wish that we could be catapulted into next year leaving the toil of this one just a crumpled list of done jobs but that’s called wishful thinking and we haven’t got time for that.

I’ve been planting trees in the field beyond the bunker, poplars and fruit trees. Poplars to define the land boundary and fruit trees, well, for fruit. One day you plant a stick in the soil, cover its roots with earth, soak them with water and in just a few days, little taut buds erupt into frilly blossom. When did I begin to appreciate the wonders of nature? Well, the idea is, eventually, clients who rent the house will have their pick of apricots, apples, pears, plums and peaches, all home grown. Vegetables too, next year.

Just when you think it’s safe to go into the garden the snow comes, again; damn it. We’ve done the snow and put it to bed then when everything about the weather signals Spring, thick green carpets of grass, profusions of blossom feathering the fruit trees and temperatures of 24 degrees, winter reminds you it’s not done. So now we wait. Back inside, half-heartedly picking over the ‘Indoors To Do’.

We have our man lined up to demolish the old garage for us and to dig the foundations. I’ll be there with the vid. another front row event. And the rebuild, well we have prepared little packs of plans, structural drawings and specifications (translated into Italian) to pass on to prospective builders. We have four lined up (a German, an Italian, an Italian who has lived in Canada for 11 years so has a good command of English and the five brothers from Kosovo, but, as is usual anywhere in the world, the best are already committed to work for the next six months or so and we can’t afford to wait. Che sara’ sara’.

Next month ~ The chosen builder. Demolishing the old garage, digging the foundations and other snippets.

DogBlog February

2008-02-18T14:30:00.000-08:00

Monte and Giorgio, the day we found them and brought them home.

Our two rescue pups. Abandoned in Montegiorgio, hence their names. We took them home to give them a bath, feed them and to decide what to do with them. This was in June 2007 when they were about 3 months old. They are still with us and weigh nearly 50 kgs each.

What is it about animals, not only do they steal your heart but ours are beginning to steal my blogspace. I’ve had a number of requests from friends and family for more pics of the dogs so this is a DogBlog for them.

Something you need to know about the boys, Monte and Giorgio, they may look cute and fetching but behind the big amber puppy eyes there lurks cunning Fagin would have been proud of. They’ve made off with numerous shoes, coasters, a pair of glasses, cushions, dvd’s, towels; the list is endless. It’s not that they’re silent or inconspicuous; they just know when the moment is right and then they move in for the swipe. Their cunning doesn’t extend to the getaway however, having won the prize they behave like rowdy teenagers, clattering around squabbling and fighting over it. It’s a dead giveaway boys.

One morning they made an escape. Nothing clever about it, they found a gate open and they simply wandered out into the outside world from whence they came. It’s in a dog’s nature to migrate and they can cover great distances in only a short time. It was 15 minutes before we realised that they’d gone and who knows how many migratory miles that converts to, bearing in mind that dogs have ‘4 leg drive’ and follow instinct rather than roads. The question was, where do we begin to look for them? The only thing to do in these situations is to drive in any and all directions with the windows open hollering their names into the countryside and hope that their acute hearing will pick up the signal, and it did. We found them about a mile away, way across the fields, two glittering white splashes in the sunshine against a verdant backdrop, tails held high and trotting with a purpose. They stopped when they heard us; transfixed, ears like radars tipped in our direction. Then they were off, sprung like greyhounds from a trap, hurtling down the valley towards us, across the stream and through the brambles to greet us, heads trimmed with burs, uncontrollable with excitement, tongues lolling and chests pounding. It was so good to see them. Back home for breakfast. No walk that morning.

Some of the boys' fans

They already have a growing fan base as you can see by the photos. New fans, would you like to have your photograph posted on the DogBlog? Just email us your favourite photo along with your first name to: kentreves@tiscali.it and we will publish it for you.

Christmas Break ~ The SHIZNIT

2008-01-29T12:21:00.000-08:00

My husband’s son and family spent a week with us in January 2008 so we declared the week an official holiday. The race was on to finish the bedroom we had started before Christmas. Chop, chop, busy, busy, work, work, bang, bang. We stopped work the morning we were due to collect them from the airport and apart from a second coat of paint needed to one wall and a chest of drawers, grouting the tiled skirtings, fitting the door handle and a few finishing touches, we had a beautiful new bedroom ready for occupation.

Now, living fairly close to the mountains has its advantages, for one thing it’s very scenic in the winter but snow is all there is to offer here in January so with this in mind we planned to treat the kids and ourselves to some skiing lessons. Sassotetto is our nearest ski centre and as far as ski resorts go it’s not the SHIZNIT (for definition, see below) but it serves an ungainly crew of beginners quite adequately and we found ourselves taking our first faltering skids under the auspices of the very patient Pietro. Could there be anything more alien than having enormous shiny boards strapped to your feet extending backwards and frontwards and which move, by the very nature of the surface they come into contact with, of their own volition. A bike or a car has the precaution of brakes but these snaky protuberances have nothing, not even stabilisers and I can assure you that a couple of hand held sticks are not going to save your bacon. In fact, your first instinct as you are racing towards a calamity is to jettison the sticks.

If only it were as easy to jettison the skis. Anyway, all the excitement was a bit 'Bum Clenching'. The thing is, when you know how all of this can be avoided, with a simple spazzaneve (snowplough) it starts to become a bit more fun. Am I going back for more? You betchya.

The SHIZNIT

My kid is the ‘SHIZNIT’. The word in this context connotes something outstanding surely. I found this wonderful little gem in a Snoop Dog ad on SKY TV. I’m a bit of a word junkie and the ‘SHIZNIT’ does it for me. So, I promptly bestowed it on our little granddaughter, Molly who is 4 years old and who has survived the ravages of chemotherapy and a host of other treatments for a neuroblastoma, emerging weakened but by no means dispirited. She doesn’t see what all the fuss is about but for me, Molly is the SHIZNIT. And just so that she understood this, we reminded her of it at least a dozen times a day. “Molly is the SHIZNIT” became our breakfast reveille, in-car chant and bedtime loony-tune. Then someone queried its meaning and although curious myself, I felt that somehow the SHIZNIT wasn’t quite going to be the SHIZNIT we all hoped it would be. We had to ‘Google’ it of course and it seems that the word is a contraction of part of the phrase:~ That’s the “S**t isn’t it” which contrary to the dictionary definition of S**t implying well.. you know what, is actually the bees bloody knees!! However, the discovery of the definition of the word rather dampened our ardour towards the use of it, (at least towards or in front of the children). Our big, beautiful Maremmano pups, who know nothing about word derivation have become the recipients of the accolade, that is when they’re not being castigated for their misdemeanours. They love being the SHIZNIT since they understand the word ‘sausage’ and think it’s related!! That’s the SHIZNIT.

Next month ~ back to work on the bunker, specifications for the garage conversion (our new home) and finding the right builders.

Onwards and upwards, sideways and some times even backwards

2007-12-29T09:22:00.000-08:00

Casa Antonio

The Bunker (underground garage)

There’s a quirky little law in Italy about underground buildings insofar as you are almost certainly likely to getting planning permission for one, on the premise, I suppose that if the building doesn’t occupy visual space, in other words if you can’t see it then who’s going to mind or even know. It makes me think that there might be some leverage in buying up a hillocky patch and applying to build ultra modern underground pods, bit like ‘Teletubbies’ houses with porthole doors and light tubes to provide natural light. Now, there’s an opportunity for somebody, to develop the ‘CASAPOD’. Anyway, I digress. The garden at the back of Casa Antonio runs away from the house for about 50 feet and then the land slopes down into a field. This change in level offers prime ‘underground build’ space. You can sink something into the bank and disguise it as a bank and hey presto you got yourself a bunker. Which is exactly where we are ~ mid-build with the ‘bunker’ our underground garage, which strictly speaking isn’t fully, since only the roof and three sides will be buried in the ground, the front, for obvious reasons of access, won’t. Or will it?

The plans show two garage doors, set at either side of the front elevation leaving a wide stretch of wall in the centre which has to be disguised as a flower bed. There was I thinking what a perfect backdrop for my lemon tree. But no, it seems the prerequisite is to deposit a mound of earth from the floor to roof height up this centre wall so that where it meets the roof it forms a hump with a discreet opening either side. Are you starting to recognise any similarities ~ YES! It’s a Teletubbies house. We had hoped to get the roof on and the sectional doors installed by Christmas but snow has stopped work. Yippee! Well, it drove us indoors, different conditions, different tools, still work.

Casa Antonio
Just to bring you up to date a bit with the main house, Casa Antonio. ‘Casa Antonio’ encompasses two buildings, the main house, which is where we now live on one floor which is fairly habitable, and the old garage built from ‘tufi’ (volcanic rock) blocks with a flat concrete roof. It is intended to transform the main house into a six bedroom, five bathroom luxury house with a huge kitchen and dining/living room at ground floor level. A bedroom and shower room for the disabled will also be incorporated at ground floor level. It’s a great shame that the house, considered by most to be ‘una casa brutta’ (an ugly house) has been faced up with cheap, shiny-faced bricks because beneath the bricks there is a heart of stone. The walls throughout have been constructed from local stone, from wonderful great chunks of it to exciting little nuggets from the palest colour of honey to burnished indigo punctuated here and there with a dash of terracotta and ..um just a smidgeon of concrete. An irregular and deliciously lumpy work of marchigiana art. Since money doesn’t allow us to hack the brickwork off the exterior walls and return them to their natural state, the best we can do is expose some of the interior stonework and render the exterior “villa style” with a few mouldings and travertine stone around the windows to add a dash of sophistication.

During the last three years we were able to get some of the major works to the main house out of the way, new roof and windows, well, as much as the budget would allow, bearing in mind that we were having to shell out huge tranches of dosh to pay the builders at Casa Renzo, since work on both houses were running concurrent, with my husband doing the work at Casa Antonio. Having a husband who is a builder in these circumstances is a big cost saver but materials are still expensive and he doesn’t make windows and doors.

Casa Antonio price guide for windows so far: 15 new windows with outside shutters (louvred) in pine @ 850 euros per set = 12,750 euros. 9 doors and a further 7 windows all with shutters, are required to complete the main house. That’s the way the money goes, pop goes the weasel for those of you who remember the song. Sadly we don't have a weasel to pop.

The roof is as pretty

as a picture;

a pity we can’t see it

from the ground.

Casa Antonio ~ The old garage
Well, a lot needs to happen to this building; so this is a major project on its own. We will live here eventually. The plans have been drawn up, but between the plans and completion there will be any number of aggravations waiting to happen! I’ll come back to this when things get underway.

Going Backwards ~ Just one of those days!!

We all have them; a day when we would have achieved more if we hadn’t got out of bed. How the day started. My husband had to pay a visit to the house in Montegiorgio which is 35 minutes away by car to attend to a minor repair. When he arrived he realised he did not have the key. Not a disaster, just time consuming and a nuisance having to do the trip there and back again. Then at Casa Antonio we laid out the travertine stone mouldings for the respective window surrounds in preparation for fixing and discovered that quite a lot of them had been cut short. This prompted one of my growling, stomping routines accentuated by some choice expletives. I didn’t know that I knew so many. (Thankfully, we don’t live close to anyone). However the stone for the upper windows were OK so we decided to push on with the upper floor and at least have something to show for the day. The scaffolding was in place so access wasn’t difficult and we had an electrically powered scaffold hoist with a bucket attachment to get materials up to the top. But the bucket tipped as it reached the top and all the mouldings crashed to the ground; sadly they didn’t survive the fall. They lay broken and crossed like sticks on a boyscouts fire. Angry? Way, way beyond that; anger just peters out to disbelief at times like this. How the day ended. Watching the sun go down from the top of the scaffold with a good bottle of Prosecco and only the sound of bees for company. Ah me! How lucky are we?

To Begin at the Beginning

2007-11-30T03:38:00.000-08:00

My husband spent many long summers in Italy as a boy. Although he wasn't born with a silver olive oil drizzler in his mouth or even an olive complexion, (I think it was more than a mosquito that got under his skin during those idyllic holidays in Rimini), Italy became a passion for him and after a visit to Venice and Tuscany so it was for me.

So, growing ever greyer (complexion and hair, the weather goes without saying) in England, it's not surprising that we dreamed about a life less fraught, of long, warm summers and a more docile lifestyle in Italy. OK, that's enough of the flowery stuff, as I said 'we dreamed'. Cutting to the chase, here we are living in Le Marche, Italy. It will be four years in May 2008 since we relocated here and to say that we have never looked back doesn't necessarily mean that we don't miss certain aspects of our 'past' life in East Sussex, it just means that we haven't had much time to reflect ~ or to feel sorry for ourselves!

Impetuosity, they say, comes with youth, so there was none of that. It was a fairly meticulously (is fairly meticulous do-able?) planned relocation. Armed with the necessary tools to 'make it work' ~ enough money (a vast amount is better and then you don't need to work), a moderate knowledge of the language, a builder (my husband) and a TEFL certificate (mine), we felt that we were prepared to face the challenges of making a living in a foreign country.

I ought to have mentioned that we had already purchased two properties, both relatively cheaply and very run down. Having the necessary building expertise, the idea was to 'turn around' the smaller of the properties within a year or at most eighteen months and sell it on, thus making a profit to plough into the larger property, which is where we would live in the meantime and which would become a holiday-let eventually. Careful planning may be the best way forward so long as it includes more than a little something for contingency, no, make that 'disaster recovery'. Best laid plans etc. and really, if it were that simple then I wouldn't be writing this blog!!!

A Geometra is like a cross between a surveyor, an architect and a bandit. You have to employ one to manage any major renovation works on a property, primarily because someone has to sign off any electrical, plumbing and construction works as conforming to standard. What you are not familiar with at this stage is how sadly their standards fall behind British standards. Our bandit, for the smaller house, told us that my husband would not be allowed to do the renovation work himself because he was not registered for work in Italy and would not be allowed to register since he is not Italian. Baloney, we discovered later but too late to rescue our over spent budget. Not all was lost however, my husband took over after the Italian builders had done their worst. It took us seven months to repair and finish the works at the house which included addressing some major damp issues. The house is delightful now. (see it 'Casa Renzo' under Properties for Rent on our http://www.dreamitalia.co.uk/ site) We sold it in September this year but it has taken four years from the date of purchase to renovate and sell it.

And so we move on to another chapter, our main house 'Casa Antonio'. My husband is now registered for work and we have a new bandit, er Geometra. Nearly four years experience behind us and things are following a more controlled course. Casa Antonio when it is finished will consist of two houses, the main house which will be available for rent, a converted garage which will be our home, a pool house, swimming pool, terraces and landscaped gardens.

Our first blog is a potted history covering three and a half years of our life in Le Marche which brings us to where we are now. Follow us through the renovation of our next major project, Casa Antonio.

Contact us if you have any questions or advice about living in Italy.

December blog ~ Casa Antonio and progress to date and the new underground garage. The Commercialista (business accountant) what he can do for you.