Last night, we (that is V & I) were invited for dinner at FfI’s. When we reached Isola, V went ahead to her place and I went to get her some cigarettes from a place that she had told me about. It’s a slightly strange thing here because cigarettes are sold only at tabaccherias (tobacconist shops). You cannot buy them at supermarkets nor off-licences but only where they have the ‘T’ sign outside.
V’s being very nice at the moment. In fact, this has been so since last weekend. I’m not sure why.
The week before, I would be lucky to get a reply to my “Hi” when he walked through the door of an evening. I made coffee every morning; washed up every night – until Thursday night when, because it had been a hard week at work, I just couldn’t be bothered. The following morning, I made tea, for myself only as V doesn’t really like tea.
On the Saturday morning, he didn’t make coffee when he got up, as he usually did. I asked “Are you angry with me or something?”. Apparently not.
But then, from Sunday onwards, it has been a completely different story. If I haven’t had time to do the washing up in the evening I find, later, it’s been done and coffee has been sorted, ready for the morning.
Just today, after he had been out getting some sort of shopping, he came back and we had a conversation just like nothing had been happening for the last couple of months! It was nice. It’s how I hope it will always be, although I guess there will be times where it will be like it was last week.
It’s not all done and dusted yet but it’s getting there.
Last night it was the revisit to the flat-with-the-terrace with FfI. She had already decided that this was the flat I should have
First, we met in our mutual friend’s shop. She’s from London and has a clothes shop – but not just any old clothes, specific designer clothes from the UK and Japan She is lovely and beautiful – tall, black and just stunning. Her shop is in Isola.
We walked to the flat-with-the-terrace. On the way, FfI saw a couple of guys (who looked a little like Beppe Grillo) and we spoke to them for a bit. They are jazz musicians who live in Isola and play, regularly, at the Blue Note Café which is also there. Nice guys. When FfI explained what we were doing one of them said we should go to his friends agency round the corner – but the problem is agencies. They always want between 10-20% commission (based on the annual rent). This equates to thousands of Euro which, given that I have to put down a deposit, pay three months rent in advance AND move furniture, etc. is just money down the drain, as far as I am concerned.
Obviously, when we first came here, we had no choice as we didn’t know the “rules” of renting in Italy – but oh how I wish we had known. It would have meant a much nicer flat for less money than we actually got in the end. Still, as I say, we didn’t know squat then and had no one to help us with the translation or anything, so it had to be.
The guy was there to show us round. When my friend had phoned originally, she had asked if it was an agency and had been told that “no, it wasn’t really and there would only be a very small charge as he was doing this as a favour for someone”.
The flat was great. Empty, the balcony on the front, overlooking the church was big enough for a small table and several chairs; the terrace at the back was, really, another room, only overlooked by the flats above. The kitchen seemed bigger than I remembered. Nearly all our furniture would fit if V chose not to take anything.
It was going to be such a difficult decision.
Then my friend asked about the rent (which was very reasonable) and the “spese” (this is the annual charge for the upkeep of the building, the cost of the doorman/woman, etc. She was shocked at how much it was. But again, the guy said that we could make an offer and he was sure that the total payable per month would fit my budget. It was looking good. The owner wanted the 3 months deposit and 3 months rent in advance, of course. This was going to make things a bit tight but it was do-able.
But then, my friend asked about the fee. It was to be 20% of the annual rent! It now became impossible. My friend suggested that, maybe, it could be paid over a period of time. “Oh yes”, he replied, “it wouldn’t have to be paid until the contracts were signed”! As my friend said – that means a couple of weeks from now!
Well, on the plus side, it took away the need for choice. It was now down to the perfect-flat-on-the-perfect-street.
Off we trundled into the centre of Milan to meet with the owner of the perfect-flat-on-the-perfect-street, as had been planned.
We arrived at a fabulous old building, just off Via Torino, one of the main shopping streets of Milan. The offices were on the first floor. We went up to see a typical Milanese older lady (probably in her 60s), smartly dressed, with money, jewellery, style, etc. She seemed nice.
On the internet, whilst searching for a flat, you can, usually, select those flats that are being offered privately (rather than through an agency). For this one it was in the private section and the woman living in the flat explained that she had put it on because otherwise she would lose 6 months rent. There was no agency involved.
However, whilst, maybe, not saying that we would have to speak to the owner (although I’m sure she did), she certainly implied it. In fact, this woman we were in front of was the Administrator of the building and not the owner (apparently the owner is 99 and I would get first dibs on the flat, to buy, when she dies!).
Now, here’s the thing, if you get a flat through the Administrator, it is similar to the agency thing. They want their “cut” She wanted 1 months rent as her fee! This was considerably less than the agency fee but, still, with 3 months deposit and 3 months rent in advance it was extra expense that I could do without.
So, I started to get my coat, explaining that the woman in the flat had said/implied that this was with the owner directly and a private deal not through someone wanting their cut.
The Administrator reduced her fee and then reduced it some more. My friend suggested that I pay the three months in advance and one months deposit, over time, building that up to three months deposit.
The woman asked someone else who said absolutely not but – I could pay three months deposit and then pay the rent monthly!
Perfect!
I filled in some details and paid her the ‘fee’. Of course, as it was so much less, although I had a receipt for the fee, once the contract was signed we would tear up the receipt so that the fee would be ‘in nero’ (in the black/under the table). Anyway, the result is that I pay less than I thought in advance even with her fee!
So, it was done! Obviously the contracts have to be drawn up and signed and the woman will try to get the current tenant out by the beginning of April. As soon as she’s out I can move in – and, as a bonus, the contract will start from 1st May so whatever I get, in terms of time in the flat, in April, will be free!
I was very, very happy.
As we were close to Peck and, as I have never been, FfI took me in. It is wonderful. Similar, for those of you who have been, to Harrod’s Food Hall. The displays of food were amazing. And, for future reference – they have Stilton. Immediately, I thought of Stilton and a good glass of Port. The Stilton looked wonderful. I’m sure that heaven, should I get there, is one big food hall, just like Peck!
In celebration we called in at Princi which is really a chain of bakeries – that do apero as well – the food, freshly baked on the premises is great and the cost of the apero, including a plate of food was only €5. For those of you coming to Milan it is one of the best places to go.
Then we made our way back to Isola as our friend-with-the-shop would be closing up and we could go for a drink. We had a lovely time and several drinks.
I still can’t quite believe it and have to keep saying to myself “I’m going to live on the perfect street” just to make it true!
Last night, one of my friends picked me up and we went to Blender Bar. On the way we passed the perfect-flat-on-the-perfect-street. I described that flat and also the flat-with-the-terrace. My friend lives closer to my current flat and so it will come as no surprise that he prefers the perfect-flat-on-the-perfect-street, since it means we can still go for a drink from time to time as he is on his way back from work..
This afternoon, whilst it is still light, I go with FfI to see the flat-with-the-terrace before, supposedly, going to see the owner of the perfect-flat-on-the-perfect-street. Unsurprisingly, she (my friend from Isola) would prefer me to take the flat-with-the-terrace. Especially since said terrace will allow for bbqs and sunbathing – she likes to be tanned in the summer. After all, it looks much better with white clothes, doesn’t it?.
So, now, the choice is much easier, isn’t it? Or perhaps not.
So my friend, last night, was saying that as the flat-with-the-terrace didn’t have a kitchen, it would be too expensive to fit one. My Isola-friend says, of course, it will not be expensive and it will be quite easy to do. She said, this morning, after informing me of the appointment to see the flat-with-the-terrace that, after viewing, we should just cancel the appointment with the owner of the perfect-flat-on-the-perfect-street!
Still, it is nice to feel wanted, particularly right now.
Meanwhile, V & I have ‘made an appointment’ for Sunday to discuss the dividing of the ‘stuff’. We have to make the appointment because we have, more or less since the end of December, been leading entirely separate lives – sometimes, not even seeing each other for days at a time! It’s a strange period indeed.
Now things have become more difficult. I went to see a flat last night. It is, more or less, the same price as the perfect-flat-on-the-perfect-street (or can be, according to the guy showing me round). It has good and bad points. On the plus side is the following:
On the minus side are the following things:
All very difficult. Of course, FfI, who lives in Isola (hence FfI – Friend from Isola) is quite keen for me to live there and the terrace appeals to her (for sunbathing, bar-b-ques, etc.). She is going to see it today.
On the other hand, I go to see the woman who owns the perfect-flat-on-the-perfect-street on Friday evening, after I have seen the flat-with-the-terrace (so I can see it in the daylight). Decisions must be made.
I found three other possibles for a place to live, on the internet. One was an agency (sort of) as I phoned it myself.
FfI came round just after 6. She phoned the other two. One was an agency but would take no commission and the other was an agency. Also we phoned the flat-in-the-building-we-both-like but there was no answer as it must be an office or something.
I remember, when I was a buyer for an Engineering company in Dursley, There was a sales guy that, over the phone, I used to get on with really well. Over a period of a year or so, we built up quite a good relationship – more than just the work thing.
In my head he looked a certain way. He was tall, blond-haired, good looking, etc. His voice sounded that way.
After about 18 months, I left the company and, as I was leaving, we promised to meet up. A few weeks later, we did. He was short, fat, dark-haired and a bit goofy. And, face-to-face he did not have the same personality as on the phone. I guess he felt the same way as neither of us touched base after that. Face to face it was all wrong, somehow.
Then, there’re books versus films. I read Lord of the Rings, a long time before any of the films came out. I pictured the whole thing in my head. The characters had real faces, were dressed in certain ways. The film of course has now erased those characters as they were in my head. The only one I remember that was totally wrong was Gandalf – although I can’t remember why now. It still sort-of annoys me when I watch the film for, although I can’t remember my original, I know the film depiction isn’t quite right. However, Frodo was much better than I had pictured so it sort-of balances itself out, I guess.
And then there’re songs. Take ‘Puppy Love’ by Donny Osmond. When it was released I remember thinking it was a girl singing it. When I saw him on Top of the Pops – I still thought it was a girl. And the name ‘Donny’ was American and it was the first time I had heard it so I was still convinced it was a girl. Of course, when I found out it was a boy I kept it all to myself – after all, it was only my parents that couldn’t recognise the difference between boys and girls – all because of their long hair! How stupid were they!!!!
And then there’s Gail. Gail has been commenting on my blog for a while now and, recently, she pointed out that she had put a picture on her profile on her blog and that I should take a look.
Before you go and look, I should tell you that Gail, in my head, already looked a certain way. Even though we have not spoken (therefore, I could not be swayed by the sound of her voice) we have emailed and commented and, weirdly, I have to build up how she would look. So Gail was blond with shortish hair, slightly curly or permed or maybe wavy. She wasn’t tall and not skinny but neither short nor obese. She had a rather round face with a perfect nose and rather nice brown or hazel eyes. Even when she just got up in the morning, her hair and make-up would be done and be “just right”. She had a way of shaking her head so that the curls of her hair would bob up and down and she would do this for effect.
She was a grandmother but quite a grand grandmother, with a style that was all her own.
To be honest, she is, probably, all these things. However, when I saw the picture the hair was so different I was shocked. Now, isn’t that really stupid! If I had met her before the online relationship she would just be Gail. But now she is a different Gail! That’s not to say that she is not attractive or fun or any of the things that I pictured but it’s the hair! It just doesn’t fit.
Gail, I’m sorry but you need to have a haircut, a wave put in and go blond! 
“He’s going to live there on his own?”
The old man was incredulous. You could see him thinking how strange these foreigners are.
“Yes”, FfI replied. “He needs a studio”.
Obviously, this exchange was in Italian. I could do this but it would take me much longer and things do get lost in translation (especially when I try Italian).
He seemed unsure. We walked in to the flat. Built around 1920 or 1930, it had not really been updated much since then. The ‘cucina abitale’ (living kitchen) did have a table in it. At a squeeze you could fit four people round it, as long as the oven wasn’t still on, otherwise the person sitting with their back to it would be in hospital with 2nd degree burns.
The hallway was pokey. The bathroom had a half-bath with an (old) shower fitment over it. There was no room for a full size bath in any event.
“Why don’t Italians like baths?” FfI asked to me.
Room 1 was a bedroom. 2 single beds and a mismatch of furniture (wardrobes, chest of drawers). Some of the furniture was newish. But none of it was bought at the same time or bought from the same store. Room 2 was another bedroom with one single bed and a wall unit that would not look out of place on a bonfire. In fact, that is where it should be.
All the furniture would be staying. He was adamant. The girl living there obviously was not trying to sell the place. The washed clothes were drying on a rack in the hallway.
The girl explained that she didn’t live there on her own. In fact, as FfI put it (she is American but has, obviously, lived here too long) – they are in three – a literal translation of the Italian “sono in tre” – properly translated as “there are three of us”.
That’s how they could afford the rent. Which went up €100 Euro when my friend asked how much the rent was – at least compared to the internet price.
We didn’t ask about the dogs. And neither of us bothered to question the other about it. This was, excepting for the furniture, only marginally more salubrious than the “crack den” down on the Navigli.
As FfI put it later, you wouldn’t want to go home to that. I could only whole heartedly agree
We discussed the fact that, only as a student could one live in one bedroom. Later, over lunch and coffee, we discussed the fact that, given the cramped conditions in which Italians live, it is no surprise that they spend most of their spare time out, walking, eating, meeting friends, etc. And, why they never really seem to do dinner parties – at least, not like we do.
I’m an internet person. Italy is not, really, an internet country. I like a lot of what Italy has to offer but there are some things that Italy does not do so well, such as getting things done without a ton of paperwork; roast beef; lamb; sticking to the rules; not sticking to the rules; personal space; etc.
FfI is being so kind and helping me a lot.
She arrives at my home and we look on the internet. We make calls. We call the nice flat and the flat-on-the-perfect-street and some others.
We go for something to eat. We visit flats. We visit the nice flat. There is someone else interested. What seemed quite a big flat is suddenly quite a small flat but I don’t want to lose out and my friend really likes it (she hasn’t seen the flat-on-the-perfect-street yet).
We (I) agree to take it. I have to meet the woman on Monday night to start the contract thing. I suddenly don’t want it at all. It’s too small; it’s too far out of town; it has no character; I can’t picture my furniture in it. In fact, it’s only really redeeming feature is that it is available now (almost) and every fitting is new. But, I question, what if the flat-on-the-perfect-street (which is a bit smaller) is actually not good when I next see it? FfI and I are going on Monday night, just before I meet this woman.
After: FfI thinks it was much smaller and devoid of character as well.
We go to see another flat. In an area I don’t really know so well. The pictures make it look like some sort of penthouse. And, it has a terrace!
It’s tiny and wood everywhere. Although it has large windows the wood everywhere makes it seem dark. It’s awkwardly laid out. The terrace is huge but, obviously not used by the current tenant. There is no oven but he’s going to get a combi-oven. Hmm. I don’t really like him.
The clincher is the dogs. In answer to the question there is no doubt. No. My mind has already removed it from my list, in spite of the terrace, but now it is erased completely.
We decide to go for a pizza but end up at the Mexican. We like the Mexican. The food is superb. It’s Piedra del Sol, near Repubblica. They do great tequila cocktails. Without V being there and wanting more than 1 (or 4 or 5) the meal turned out to be so reasonably priced! We did share a main course as, normally, it is far too much for one and most of it taken home in a doggy bag. It was just right.
Today we went to a very nice flat just off Corso Buenos Aries. Like the one I had agreed to take but much more central and for the same price, more or less. Then to another near to the one I had agreed to take. It’s a definite. It’s too far out. I will call her tomorrow to say I’ve changed my mind.
So now CBA has taken over as the one that is up against the flat-on-the-perfect-street. Tomorrow night we go to see (together) flat-on-the-perfect-street and then another which is on three floors. Personally, I think it’s either CBA or flat-on-the-perfect-street.
Decisions have to be made.
Then, as we’re walking back from the other too-far-out-flat to the American Donut Café (we planned brunch) we pass a block that we both said that we would like to live in, very close to where I live now. There was one for rent. More or less the size of the one I live in now but one less bedroom. So FfI suggested living together >I’m not sure that would be perfect. I think she would get fed up with the dust from the dogs pretty damn quick. Plus she has some habits that, as a lover, I could probably cope with – as just a friend would probably have me killing her within a couple of weeks (or, even, days), even if I do love her to bits!
If it was the right price, it would be nice but…..
We shall see. Enough of looking at flats. I just want to be in somewhere and start getting back to normal even if it is the new normal (whatever that may be).
We’re deciding where to go for a pizza. We will be driving.
He said, ‘I know a great pizza place in a flower shop’.
I say, incredulously, ‘in a flower shop?’
‘Well,’ he responds, ‘it’s a very big flower shop’.
‘So, more like a garden centre?’ I ask.