Sleeping till 9:30 has a lot to recommend it, but by the time all our teeth are brushed and breakfast eaten and cleaned up, it is almost time for the mid-day jaunt into town. Sleeping late interferes with enjoying a long day- there just isn’t enough left of it to make anything happen! But we try.
The plan for today was simple. I made a call to set up a visit to the house I wanted to view with the thought of purchasing a fixer-upper. We would both work through the midday then first go to the fabric store to pick up my lovely fabric ( I couldn’t wait to see it, and touch it, admire the detail of the weave,) and figure out how to best finish them off for my two front room windows. In Colorado, son Tim had measured, I had spoken with Georgio, the man in the wonderful shop with all the amazing bolts of beautiful cloth, explaining the size of the window, and how I needed extra so that they wouldn’t be just fitted panels, but a bit wider. He agreed, and said- no problem, they would make sure that was done, they knew how to do it, leave it all in their hands. I was a little unsure about the height.
You know where this is going, don’t you?
Fabric order took 5 or 6 days, and today, my brothers birthday was the day’s celebration. You go Bill! Here in Chiavari my fabric was in today and now I can begin to think about how I was going to get it all home. Drapes, and some linens I had found at the street market — a few, not too many, all hand-worked- oh so nice. Actually, quite a bit.
When I got home, having my first eager look at them, I found that the fabric I had lots of options with were now hemmed, sewn, and finished completely. That’s a good thing, maybe, a lovely unexpected completion. Unfortunately, I had been vague about my measurements, thinking I can work with it all when I get home, and can then decide how I want to use these panels/hanging//sliding/floating, etc. The options were numerous, before they were hemmed and finished. Now — well, it is anyone’s fairly expensive guess.
Translation – the lesson is — once more, I remain unclear and lost in translation.
Then, Happy Birthday brother Bill Lavezzi- you are such a fine person, and I am privileged to be your sister.
The fixer-upper saga: Up in the hills above Chiavari lies a white house that is called the Raggio House by some. It is weathered, old, shabby, and in need of love, and a lot of work, ($$$) but it calls to me in some primitive way. I knew that it was for sale, for quite a long time now, and I wanted to see it inside. We were supposed to view it on the 6th, my birthday, and a friend, Tom, who lives in California, but who speaks Italian because he is first-generation American from this very village, he helped with making calls and finding someone with a key to show us this house.
Excitedly, after picking up my fabric-dare I call my purchase fabric? when I suppose it is now curtains. We drove up to the house. From below, at street level, it looks rather looming, and the little rocky steps up are overgrown and nearly invisible. Me and my sandals-bad choice. So, walking around to the other side, we walked up a road that goes behind the house. As we walked up to the 2nd floor of the house, a couple came storming like disturbed wasps out of a rather newish, terracotta-colored place on the opposite side of the road. Apparently, this was their road, and we weren’t to step our dainty feet upon it. No Never. PUGH! They yelled at the young man only trying to help us out as a favor, and we walked back down the road, so close, but…
Lew and Andrea, properly shod, walked up the treacherous path, and found that the keys didn’t work for the first floor. They never got in. They did get into the more accessible 2nd floor, and it has an open basement probably used for oil or wine making. And I have yet to see the photos Lew took. Sigh.
How lovely Andrea was, and he was quietly appalled at the couple’s attitude. Since he spoke Italian, he knew what they said. I didn’t, but one knows without words. I had never yet run into this kind of thing- except for the grocer – maybe it’s me? I hadn’t touched any part of the house yet, and now we leave in three days without seeing whether we could make it work or not. Oh Crumb. Some things are just not to be, and I get it that my wanting something a certain way does not mean much in the greater scope of things, right? It’s a hilly beautiful-view house, with two apartments, and I have such good plans for it too. I will stop whining now, and wish you a good night/day.
On another, higher note: This is the month celebrating Dante’s language effect in the world- the revered poet who wrote the divine Comedy, in 1311, and inspired Bruce Springsteen as well as Shakespeare, also created the unifying language called Italian, although he probably didn’t know it, then. Vive Dante!
Frustrated in Chiavari