Now that we had more or less decided to buy a property rather than rent, we began in earnest to see what was available. Terry, in particular, spent hours looking at real estate sites, especially Romolini where we had made a connection, but a few others as well just to cast a broader net. In Italy, as I believe in most of Europe, each agency represents only the properties they have listed. That contrasts with standard practice in the U S where agents show, and can earn commissions for, real estate offered by a variety of realty companies.
I remember vividly the day Terry called me into our office to show me a house he had found. A stone tower dating from the thirteenth century, it had beamed ceilings, terracotta floors, and exposed stone in some of the walls. Perched on the exterior was a tiny terrace that overlooked the street and the view beyond. With each photo, my interest built and at the end of the slideshow we faced each other in a silent but powerful communication that had me rising from my chair to say, “I’m calling a realtor to list our house.” You can see what we saw that day by going to: http://www.Romolini.co.uk/en/town_house_panoramic_view_for_sale_anghiari_1570\
With a For Sale sign soon to be planted in our yard, we were now on the edge of having to reveal our plans to children and friends. As the 2019 holiday season approaches, my mind returns to the first time we announced “We’re moving to Italy”. On Thanksgiving day a year ago, we joined our hosts, a few lively members of their family, and a number of good friends for dinner. Terry, by now bursting with the need to share the news, let everyone know what was afoot. Surprise all around, including my own since I was not expecting to make our plans known quite yet. But the response was positive and encouraging, the only question being what had made us decide to do it. Easy enough to answer: As we age, we become aware of the need to make the most of every day and what we were seeking was one last, great adventure before health or other matters made that impossible.
While that first announcement to friends was easy and well received, our children were a bit greater challenge. Between us, Terry and I have four adult children who are scattered across the United States, from Long Island, NY to Brea, CA and two living in Houston. That means that communication with them is not about driving across town to say hello or ask a favor, but instead relies on long distance phone calls, text messages, and when we’re lucky, the occasional visit. From our point of view, living in Italy wouldn’t greatly change our ability to keep in touch with them. So we were quite surprised by their responses, which ranged from tears, to silence, to “OK, I get it (but I hope it doesn’t really happen”) to “Terrific, when can I come to see you?” Inevitably, though, all became accustomed to the idea and it was, after all, still in the temporal distance.
As word of our plans spread to other friends, most of them responded, “You are going to rent, aren’t you? That’s what I would do.” Well….no we aren’t. For one thing, dipping a toe into the water of uncertainty was not our style. Moreover, as we explained each time, renting was more difficult than it appeared and would deplete funds needed for a presumed eventual purchase. Underlying that explanation was the experience Terry and I both had living abroad. Terry had spent a decade in Italy pursuing his medical degree and would liked to have stayed on as an American doctor in Florence. In the end he didn’t because he was encouraged to return to the states to join his in-laws’ practice. For my part, I had lived in England for a year, owned an apartment in Paris for five years, and spent a couple of seasons working on archaeological sites in Italy and Serbia. Beyond that, both Terry and I had traveled extensively. Both of us knew that moving to another country was well within our comfort zone.
Lurching towards Italy 