A few years ago I received a small inheritance. We had been wanting to replace the ugly pink (!!) pavers in our backyard so I decided spending some of the money on that would be a good move. So I transferred enough to pay for that expense but left the rest of it sitting in the (mostly) inaccessible bank account while I decided what to do with the rest of it. I was certain if I transferred it into my main account it would inevitably get frittered away on a bill here, an expense there, with not really much to show for it at the end of the day. So the money sat and I pondered.
I have been an avid watcher of House Hunters International for a long time. I’m always particularly interested when they’re moving to Europe somewhere. Although I rarely agree with their choice — no don’t choose #2 you big twit! — I always sigh longingly at the strolls through parks and down cobblestone lanes. And, as a side note, I also never cease to be amused by one person wanting local charm and the other wanting modern. I think they must eliminate any couples that have the same aesthetic desires, or any house hunters that have a clue how large a fridge in Paris should be. But, I digress…
One evening, after a glass (or three) of a particularly delicious Barolo I started googling property listings in Italy. As my lovely husband speaks French I also started looking at listings in France. We were quite amazed at some of the remarkable properties that were available that I could actually afford to purchase. I signed up for weekly listings from Gate-Away for Italy, and FrenchEntrée Property for France. Once a week my inbox would have a delightful list of charming properties, and I would daydream of living in them. Once in a while there would be a listing so intriguing that I would click on it to get all the particulars, and would inevitably end up down the rabbit hole spending the next three straight hours looking at apartments in Verona, or wee houses in Aix. Sigh…not a bad way to spend a few hours, I say!
For 18 months this pattern continued: email, happy sigh, click, rabbit hole. Wash, rinse, repeat. I would find some affordable little place, then research its location, investigate if it was near amenities, look on a map to see how close it is to places I know or people I’d want to visit, do image searches, look at Google street view, and contemplate how the pugs would enjoy this particular locale.
Then my father died. My dad — Daddio as I called him — was my favourite human. We were very close. We spoke every day and he spent almost half of the year living with us. He was an avid traveller having visited more than 100 countries — and was very supportive of my adventures. I was completely blindsided by his passing — but it was like a switch was flipped and I looked at my husband and declared that I want to buy a place now, not later. Although I had always been leaning more towards Italy, I assumed my husband would be happier with France (due to language) but it turns out he was in camp Italy also. So the property search was on, in earnest.
My criteria sadly eliminated the possibility of going after one of the €1 houses we’d seen all those stories about. I wanted a place that was walkable to all the necessary amenities — so nothing out in the middle of nowhere, (and not even in the suburbs — if that’s an actual thing in Italy), was reasonably accessible to a big city, and had some outside space (garden, terrace, even a balcony would do!).
My prime target was Verona. I don’t know exactly what it is about Verona but I fell in love with it the minute I first went there. The beautiful river running through the centre, the oh-so-delightful pink marble sidewalks in the centro storico, the arena and amphitheatre (I’ve been fortunate enough to see an opera at the arena and a jazz performance at the amphitheatre), great restaurants, and for some reason, lots of pugs. But, after 18 months, not a single listing in my price range appeared so I abandoned that idea. There were many locations I had been investigating, and I included all the cities and towns that we had visited at some point, as well as a few I was certain I would like, even if I’d never been.
I started combing through property listings every day. What about this one? Ooooh, this one’s pretty! Oh look, just look at the frescoes! In general I wanted a bit of outside space, but particularly in the throes of the pandemic and lockdown I figured it would be a must. I found a listing for an apartment in a 500 year old palazzo in Orvieto. It said in the listing that one of the rooms could be converted to a loggia (there’s my outside space) and it had the former chapel for the residence. As it had three glorious — if dilapidated — frescoes, was located in the heart of Orvieto — which we found to be absolutely magical, and I had always had a dream of living in a converted church (close enough!), I decided I had found the one.
I sent an email to the listing agent for more information and started researching how one goes about buying a property in Italy from afar. I found an Italian agent living in California who has a business both here and in Italy — this solved many of the issues (language, lawyers, paperwork, etc.). I made an offer on the apartment and my husband and I both immediately began efforts to learn Italian. We both already had a Duolingo account so that was the first port of call. I also love to research the hell out of absolutely everything so I investigated good online, work at your own pace, apps and programs knowing the listening/comprehension piece would be the most difficult for me.
My first offer was rejected and I upped it a little bit more than I was entirely comfortable with, but I already felt very invested in those faded frescoes so I agreed to his counter offer and the process of buying an Italian property commenced. It became known between my husband and I as our “piccolo palazzo” and we were both very excited.
We proceeded to watch EVERY SINGLE YouTube video about Orvieto: the good, the glorious, and the grainy. And although we always drank a lot of Italian wine I started buying Umbrian wine specifically — so we could feel like we’re supporting our “local” economy.
There was much paperwork to be signed — I became a regular at the local DHL outlet, and Codice Fiscale numbers to be attained — I attempted this through the consulate in San Francisco but they never replied (not even now 16 months later), many visits to the Notary for various reasons, and a geometra to be hired (a geometra is a cross between a surveyor and jr. architect and essential to any home purchase in Italy). It took a few months — but we’re officially the owners of an apartment in Orvieto. Now to relocate the pigeons that have taken up residence in the chapel…Prosecco anyone?