The noble sport of hunting - 23 Sep 2010

Moving to a different country is always some kind of a culture shock, even if it's a reasonably nearby and by all means European country like Italy. And I apologise to my dear Italian friends, but there is one aspect where Italy still hasn't made it to the civilised world... and that is hunting.
In Italy, a hunter is almost omnipotent. He doesn't need to undergo any psychological or technical exam prior to being given a license. He's merely "supposed" to know the rules. And there are very few rules. In fact, as far as Italy is concerned, the situation is not far off of being a Far West. Not suprisingly, in this country there's an average of over 50 mortal incidents each hunting season. The number of injuries is of course much higher. Hunters can happily enter private land and shoot as they like. They only have to maintain a distance of 100m to houses. But what is 100m of course. If you want to keep hunters away from your property, you need to close it off by a fence of at least 1,20m high and put visible "private property" signs on regular intervals. Meaning, to close let's say a 100m perimeter you're easily in for a 300-400€ expense without the poles. If, like in our situation, you have to enclose 2 hectares, this is as good as impossible. Just putting signs or putting a plastic rope or chain isn't good enough. Obviously the Italian legislator has made it so difficult for private house owners that they'll usually give up and let the hunters have their way.

Last Sunday the hunting season started. Christine and I were still in bed when we heard a shotgun fire really close by. A bit later when we were outside, in front of our house, we suddenly saw a hunter fire at a partridge in the middle of our field. Roughly 60m away from us! He came barging into our field and I went to meet him because I wouldn't have that. I was still only 20m away from him when he suddenly raised his gun and fired in the air at another partridge. The argument that followed wasn't pleasant at all. Especially when his dogs suddenly entered our garden and started chasing our hens. Christine and I chased them away of course. But this made the hunter even more furious. Up to the point that he started making hidden threats. He went back uphill, to his mate who was standing there, laughing. And then they just stood there, observing us. Every now and then they took their binoculars to look at Christine and I and when they noticed we were still there, they made angry gestures. Fortunately, after half an hour or so, they went away.

In the mean time I've already put "no hunting" signs everywhere. And I've dug a little deeper into the Italian hunting law. In fact, it seems to make a difference between a private garden and private land for agricultural purposes. Because under no circumstances a hunter is allowed to enter a garden. It's the "private agricultural land" that has to be closed off by a fence. And there is more. A hunter also has to remain at least 100m away from domestic animals. Which includes the normal cats and dogs but also horses, cows and... hens! :-) So I've put the new henhouse at such a distance from our house that basically no hunter can still come into our field. I've also been thinking to put our old, plastic garden furniture towards the far end, to really make it look like a "garden".

I can understand that the hunters must really be frustrated. Our field is the perfect hunting ground because from the field above you can take a very nice pop shot into ours. Our house has been abandoned for forty years so there has never been anything in their way. But as from now, they're technically no longer allowed to come, let alone hunt, in our field. And on top of that also a large portion of the field above has become off limits due to its less than 100m distance to our house.

Christine and I don't care in the least. On the other hand, we're very much afraid because it's clear that there are a lot of cowboys among these hunters who don't give a toss about the rules. A good advice a friend gave us is to keep a camera nearby. So whenever a demented hunter tries something illegal, we'll have a picture as proof to the authorities. And hopefully they'll listen...

Moving in at last!!! - 23 Sep 2010

Sorry... this post is a bit late; my apologies. But since Tuesday of the previous week we're living in our own house!!! This is actually one of the reasons why I couldn't write any earlier. Moving in is one thing. Creating some sort of order is another... :-)



But slowly we're getting there. The house already looks a whole lot tidier now. Even though we're still more or less camping. There is no running water on the ground floor, simply because we haven't got any sink there yet. This is mainly Dopey Dwarf's fault because he put the taps too low and had to send one of his assistants, an even more stupid dwarf, to mend it. The even more stupid dwarf came, put the taps where they should be but left a big mess. "You can repair it any way you like", he said. And left in a big hurry. Well, we're not going to let it ruin our good spirit, are we? The cooker... was supposedly sent but then again not. A simple inquiry with the courier confirmed that there's nothing being sent to us. This means that we have no other option than to inform the "Postal Police" which is responsible for internet fraud. Hopefully they can eventually talk some sense into that ghastly woman. Fortunately there's a very friendly English family nearby who were happy to lend us their camping cooker. It does its job more than well.

On the other hand, we do have a toilet at last. You may remember that the one we got turned out to be broken underneath and had to be replaced. It took some time and a week's survival on a camping toilet (again many thanks to our English friends) but now we can at least go to the loo properly.

So this is more or less where we are at the moment. One thing's for sure: the cats love it here! We were so confident that we left our two oldest ones, Canelle and Blu already outside after two days. And without any problem. They simply ador these surroundings full of bushes, trees and a view you only get in travel magazines. Thomas and Flora will still have to wait a bit. They're less experienced and more likely to get into trouble. Perhaps we'll try a guided walk this afternoon. After all, the weather's just superb today...

The Pradarena adventure - 13 Sep 2010

One thing I try to escape from the ghosts in my head, is taking my Vespa for a spin. For me there's no better way to get rid of all the worries (for a few minutes) than to ride along the winding mountain roads and enjoy the magnificent landscapes that await you behind every bend.

The day before yesterday I was feeling so down that I definitely needed a slightly bigger adventure to get my mind off things. It was around four 'o clock in the afternoon and the weather was just perfect. So I decided to make one of my dreams come true, which is riding my Vespa all the way up the Pradarena pass (1575m). It's only about 20km away from our house, so there I went.

Initially the road takes you along the valleys towards the town of Ligonchio. No problem there whatsoever. But then the climb gets steeper. Much steeper. Over 10% steep. Not the sort of thing my Vespa was keen on. After all, it was designed as a city vehicle; certainly not well-adapted for mountain-goat adventures. At times its maximum speed dropped below 20kph and I almost felt like getting off and give it a push. Very embarassing, you know, when motorbikes are zooming past; the riders of which obviously thinking that I must be bonking mad. But I let them mock me. My brave companion eventually made it to the top!!! Here's the living proof: the sign which told me that I was leaving the province of Reggio Emilia and entering the province of Lucca, in Tuscany:

Obviously I wanted to enjoy this moment a bit. It's a pity that at the top of the pass the view isn't all that superb. It's closed in by mountainsides and forests. And I hadn't had enough at all. I wanted more... and higher. Much higher. So I continued on foot, through the forest leading to the nearest mountaintop.

Hey! Look at these big mushrooms! But you better no eat those...

The forest got thinner and thinner. Eventually I arrived at the tree limit and to my great joy I could see the mountaintop. Well, at least I thought I could see it...

Much to my disappointment, the mountaintop was a lot higher still. Oh... my poor old legs... :-) But I would not give in! I would make it to the top, even if I'd collapse. Then I saw this weird pile of stones. Would that perhaps be the top?

No! Not in the least! I had to climb about another 50m still. But then... tadaaaa... the big moment...

WOOOOOOWWW!!! Just look at that!!! The following picture was taken in northeasterly direction. You can see the Bismantova rock in the far distance, with to its left the town of Castelnovo ne' Monti. And all the way against the horizon (not very clear on the picture) I could make out the outskirts of the city of Reggio Emilia, which must be about 60km away!

To the east, the majestic mount Cusna, the highest mountain in the Reggian Appenines...

And then... hold your breath for this panorama which ranges from south to northwest.

On the left (south) you can see the sharp outlines of the Alpi Apuane in Tuscany. Then the panorama goes through the southwest (sun), past the Alpe di Succiso (also over 2000m), then nearby Mount Cavalbianco (+/-1850m) and to the northwest Mount Ventasso (on the last picture). I absolutely haven't got the faintest idea how the mountain that I was standing on is called (couldn't find it on any map) but it must not be much lower than Mount Cavalbianco as you can see for yourself. Unfortunately the mountain I stood on just wasn't high enough to be able to see the Tyrrhanean Sea. But it was a spectacular view nonetheless.

After half an hour or so I climbed down again. Here's a picture of me and my loyal ride on the top of the pass, with Mount Cavalbianco on the background...

One last glance at Tuscany before I'd drive back...

Look, mama, that's how high I've been!!!...

Almost home. The Bismantova Rock in the evening light. Just a few more bends and I'd be home...

Sundown over the Alpe di Succiso...


The end. :-)

I wish I could fly - 13 Sep 2010

Being autistic means i.a. that I'm much more sensible to emotions. Good ones, but also bad ones. How hard I try to keep on smiling and to laugh at the problems we're still facing, I can't hide my innermost feelings any longer. Tears are rolling off my cheeks nearly every day now. In spite of the good news I received about my book and our house being habitable now.

Financially we're still in a lot of trouble and also Danilo decided he'd be his old stupid self and went to court to ask another €13.000,- from us. Even though he messed up completely, "forgot" to order the seismic study and to ask for a building permit and last but not least forged Christine's signature on an official document to make it seem like he did his job. So that's courtcase number two.

Courtcase number three is also well on its way. We bought a beautiful cooker through eBay and at a very sharp price too. Unfortunately, the lady of the eBay shop also messed up and had the cooker sent to my address of residence (still in Belgium at the time) in stead of my primary shipping address (in Italy of course). The discussion is already going on for over a month because she doesn't want to admit that she made a mistake. "I sent it to the address as mentioned in eBay", by which she means "residence" in stead of "shipping". And then she says it's all my fault and that I have to sort things out myself. Three courtcases in three months... I had imagined things a bit differently...

I also fell out with a hunter who came barging through our land with his dogs, regardless if it is a private property or not. I've put "no entry" signs everywhere but that didn't seem to bother him. He even warned me that if I tried to stop his dogs one more time... I asked: "Is that a threat?" "No", he replied "but I'd see what would happen otherwise".

Then, last week there was a terrible tragedy in the family about which I will not elaborate here.

And so on and so on...

I'm feeling empty... chased by dark shadows which have come to haunt me. I can't find any peace anywhere because they always know where I'm hiding. At times I take a seat on our terrace and try to enjoy the warm sunshine. To no avail. My heart keeps beating restlessly. The pain is throbbing in my chest. The slightests of sounds blasts through my ears even harder than usual. Do you remember when you were really startled once? That's how I'm feeling all of the time now. As if my poor old heart could give up any minute. No... please... leave me alone!!! All I want is just sit here quietly on my terrace and be left in peace. Why is that so difficult?

Italian light - 08 Sep 2010

Did I already mention that the light in Italy is just fabulous? Every day the shades are different. Every day the picture changes. Remember the story I told you about that man who believed he was the richest man in the world because he lived in a castle with an ever-changing mosaic ceiling (which turned out to be the clouds)? Well, that's exactly how we feel. Very very rich and fortunate indeed. Here are a couple of pictures I took over the last couple of days. According to me they're not the best ever and they don't even come close to really being there. But I still hope you enjoy them...


This is the valley of the river Secchia, just a couple of miles away from our house and taken from the road that leads to Castelnovo ne' Monti, the main town in the area...





The following picture was taken yesterday morning. The town of Sologno was still covered by the clouds, but from our driveway the view was just spectacular. Being at an altitude of nearly 800m means that at once you can be "overwhelmed" by clouds. When I was having breakfast outdoors in Sologno, all of a sudden the clouds invaded the town and took away all sunshine. It was as if someone blew them in with an enormous smoke-machine. A bit scary, actually... just like in these horror-movies :-)




The following picture was taken from our bedroom window, yesterday evening. Just stunning colours...



And now for something completely different... How do you like our new dining room? :-) I hope that Christine will be pleased with my cleaning job when she gets back from Flanders... You can see the space where later on there will be a built-in cupboard. It's one of the few pieces of furniture that we'll recover from the original house. Obvioulsy the woodwork still needs a serious polish and a couple of layers of protective paint so we can't install it yet. But the old windows are just lovely. It will make a beautiful display for our finest crystal glasses.

Dopey Dwarf - 05 Sep 2010

The plan was to move into our new home last Wednesday. But this plan was thwarted by Dopey Dwarf - who happens to be a plumber and loyal servant of the Big Bad Wolf. He was already supposed to install the heater in July. In August he happened to be on holiday. And last week he finally returned to... start installing the water taps. Something which we could've easily done ourselves. The heater, you might ask? Or what about the pump for the rainwater container? No!!! Not important at all! And now he told us that the heater is out of stock until the beginning of October... WHAT??? Oh yes, he's going to help us out for the time being by installing a temporary, second-hand heater. Guess who'll have to pay for that! Oh no!!! Then he doesn't know us yet! I've contacted the supplier of our new heater to inquire how long it would take to order one. And apparently most of these suppliers have their own people who can install one if you like. Dopey Dwarf better weren't lying or he'll end up the same way as the Big Bad Wolf and the Nasty Little Man!

So here we are. In a house that's as good as finished. Apart from having water running out of our taps; not to mention hot water and central heating. Well, that last bit isn't all that urgent. It's still summer over here (although there were a couple of thunderstorms this evening) and the temperature is just perfect... What a life... Pity that my skin burns so easily because otherwise I could stay in the gentle sunshine forever.

Today Christine returned to Belgium. She has an appointment at the Chronic Fatigue Centre, at the Leuven University. And most important of all, she has to collect our hens and a whole trailer full of plants which didn't make it with the movers due to not enough room in the lorry. When I write this, she's already arrived at her mother's. Tired, but happy. Very happy, in fact. Why, you might ask? Well... she has a little surprise in store for her mother. Last week, she heard that there was a competition going on on the Flemish radio. The person having the best arguments would win a private living-room concert of one of Flanders' most famous artists (Paul Michiels, for the connoisseurs...). Under the pretext of not having to lose anything she participated and wrote about our Italian adventure and that she therefore had to leave her mother behind; all alone. Guess what? The day before yesterday she received a phonecall from the radio, with the message that... SHE HAD WON!!! Next Saturday Paul Michiels will visit her mother for the private concert. This evening the winner will be announced on the radio. Christine made her mother believe that they're going to play a special request record on the radio, just to make sure that she's going to turn it on. I wish I could be there to see her face... :-)

My book's going to be published!!! - 30 Aug 2010

I've just received the most wonderful news! One of Flanders' biggest publishing companies is going to publish my book!!! I can hardly believe it... It's like a distant dream come true... Next week they're going to offer me a contract. Then, the text is going to be revised by a language expert and the publishing date is set for May 2011. Yes... It sounds so long and I'm so thrilled that I can hardly wait. But it will be here sooner than I think. It's like when Christine and I said goodbye to eachother exactly one year ago. She was going to remain in Italy while I had to return to Belgium. Eventually those 10 months went by in a flash. Oh... I'm having tears in my eyes of pure joy... Sorry, folks, but I have to stop writing...

10 Do's and Don'ts when moving to Italy - 27 Aug 2010

1. Never ever buy (Italian) real-estate through a real-estate agent. And especially not through these websites designed for foreigners looking for property. The prices on these websites are 30% to 50% (!) higher than the seller's asking price. Ideally, you should try to find out who are the owners yourself or via a local friend. Most sellers would be happy to bypass the agency (if at all possible) and sell to you directly. After all, they have to pay the commission.

2. Often, with the purchase of a house comes a local geometer. A man (or woman) who turns up unexpectedly when the sollicitor's act is signed and who promises he'll arrange everything for you. In 99% of the cases, this geometer is an imposter whose only concern is to try to gain your confidence and then to rip you off. Christine and I got rid of our geometer just in time. An English family who moved here a couple of years ago wasn't so lucky. Our advice: After you've purchased your property and you want to restore it, look for your own geometer or architect. Compare prices and never trust anyone who doesn't want to put a price on paper. In Italy there are official fees which every geometer should adhere to. If not... he or she's no good.

3. Study the geometer's estimate for the restoration carefully. It is almost a given that it will be far from complete. What about sewers? What about the seismic study? What about the "law 10" concerning insulation standards?

4. Be aware of builders or any other workers presented to you by your geometer. It is likely that they have to pay the geometer a commission for having received the job through him. In some cases (like ours), this may go up to 20%! In the end, YOU will have to pay this commission. Ask around. Find your own contractor, plumber etc., preferably in another town (the further the better - hence there is a smaller risk that this person is connected to your geometer) and compare prices with the contractor presented to you by the geometer. This will most probably make your geometer very upset. Not surprisingly because you're about to sink his plans for a new and fancy car. Tough luck for him.

5. Be aware of supplements. Many workers will only present an "estimate" of the work to be done. Often they will claim that more work or material was needed to do a certain job and they'll happily charge you for it. No matter what price was agreed in the "estimate". Don't agree on a job to be done unless you have the final price black and white on paper. This will avoid unnecessary discussion afterwards.

6. This is very important: No matter how difficult this must be, please please make sure that you (or a friend you trust) is always present at the building site when work is carried out. And make sure that the site is closed when no work is being done. The house of the English family I just told you about was literally STRIPPED by the builder. Wooden floors were removed ("they were rotten anyway") etc etc. This family lost in total about 100.000€!!! With "total" I mean being overcharged by geometer, overcharged by the builder, materials gone etc etc. In any case, being present will also prevent you from finding some nasty surprises when you come to visit your newly finished dreamhouse. Hey... where's the water tap I needed here? And look at the floor! It's laid upside down! And who decided on these tiles?...

7. Budget. When you've received the geometer's estimate about all the works to be done etc. and you've made all the financial calculations about your project: DOUBLE IT! You can rest assured that you'll run into "unexpected expenses". Either they'll discover that the foundations are in a worse state than expected, they'll tell you that the house needs an additional supporting wall, they'll inform you that certain works were not included in the contract, and so on and so on... Believe me: DOUBLE IT! Of course, this only refers to the works to be done and excludes the purchase price.

8. Administration. Italy is a country keen on its paper tradition. Be prepared to have to drive to the capital of your province at least a couple of times (driver's license, car license plate,...), to the main town nearby ("tessera sanitaria"; the social security card, and so on) and to your local commune administration.

9. Continuing on the paper tradition, make sure that - if there's any doubt - you have the person in question write it down on paper. For example: If your geometer tells you: "The law 10 doesn't apply here so you don't need a thermal study", you reply: "Allright. Put it in writing for me then". Or: If your builder tells you: "Just a bit of extra concrete and this crack in the wall will not get any bigger", you reply: "Really? In that case you wouldn't mind writing that down for me?"...
10. And finally: expect the unexpected. :-)

I know, all of this sounds a bit negative. I should indeed mention that there are lots of honest and hard-working people in Italy. And that it is a fantastic place to live in. But I thought I could better warn you in case you were starting to have similar plans after reading my blog. It's better to be prepared. This will make it much more likely that your venture will eventually succeed. Because on the telly they'll only show you success stories. Not the stories of people who lost everything because of their dream.

The final straight line to the finish - 23 Aug 2010

At last, you might say, the latest pictures of our house. And the good news is: it's nearly finished! We've even already moved some large pieces of furniture. This is very encouraging because especially Christine is having a hard time to keep motivated. The poor girl is really holding on by the fingernails. I'm very much afraid that her chronic fatigue will take the better of her the minute we've moved in. But that's allright. From then onwards she'll have a lifetime to recover.


Look, here's the kitchen. The floor's been cleaned and we already installed a big cupboard and the fridge. The carpenter's taken the measurements for the rest of the kitchen furniture last week and hopefully this will be delivered in September. In the mean time, we'll have to do the dishes in the laundry room. It's just like going camping! :-)

This is the living room. As you can see, it's not what you could call a ballroom. But it's cosy and that's all that matters. I can already imagine our piano standing against the far wall...

This is the main bathroom with its floor-level shower. Joints still to be done; sink and taps still to be installed. The plumber promised he would pay us a visit tomorrow morning. We'll keep him to his word!

Main bathroom, other angle...

The front part of the house. Do you like the colour of the windows?

And finally the house as seen from the entry lane. As you can see, we're already quite busy moving stuff...

The customer is always right - 18 Aug 2010

Do you still remember the days when the customer was king? In those days, when you entered a shop, a most friendly man or woman wearing a very tidy apron kindly hailed you with: "Goodmorning sir. Welcome to our shop. How may I be of service?" After which the man or woman did everything in his or her power to answer to every single one of your requests. After all, you were the highly valued customer; the bread and butter of the vendor in question.

Sadly, in these days of internet merchants, who only open a shop because they believe it will make them rich in a very short period without having to work very hard, these values of servitude and responsibility seem to be lost forever.

A month ago, Christine and I bought a new cooker for our house. We got a very good deal on one of these eBay shops and were very happy with our purchase. I made it clear to the seller that the cooker should be sent to our Italian address and not to the Belgian address which was still showing in eBay. The seller wasn't very happy about that and asked me to change the address in eBay in order to avoid confusion. Which I immediately did of course. After all, she was the highly valued seller. I changed the primary shipping address and sent another e-mail confirming the Italian address. Just to be sure.

Weeks went by and all of a sudden I got a rather distressing message from the people who'd bought our Belgian house. It said that someone wanted to deliver a large package with our name on it and originating from Italy. But since we didn't live there anymore, they had told the man to take it back to Italy.

So I sent the seller another e-mail, playing dumb and asking if our cooker was well on its way. To which I got the stunning reply: "Check your local UPS office, thanks."

Obviously, I foregave the most venerable seller this not so friendly answer. I understood that she was on a holiday and I felt very humble that I had to disturb her while she was having a juicy cocktail on the beach. I begged her pardon and asked how it was possible that the cooker had been sent to Belgium. After all, I had confirmed the Italian address many times. This is what she replied:

"We, as a rule imposed by eBay, can only send to the address registered in eBay. For you it only takes two minutes to change it, even after the purchase. I told you numerous times to change it if you wanted me to ship to another address. We open the eBay page and send to the registered address, also because you can imagine that if we have to look at all the e-mails for every shipment, and we can not change addresses on eBay ourselves. Up to you what to do next and by the way we're closed for holidays. Thanks."

This made my blood boil. Yes, I know. I'm a very bad customer. I'm simply incapable of keeping my calm when I'd rather should. I know I should've bowed at the seller and apologised for my incompetence. Of course it was all my fault. How is it possible that I didn't want to admit that? Because of my stupidity, the seller had totally confused between "address of residence" and "primary shipping address". I could use as an excuse that at the time of purchase we were still having a very shaky internet connection and only changing the shipping address had taken me over half an hour. After all, eBay is not what you could call a very light website to download. But that would be a very poor excuse indeed.

If you now click on the cooker we bought, it says that the seller has put it back up for sale. What a pity. And of course we'll never see our money back either. Tough luck. It's yet another lesson learnt.

NOT!!! :-)

Life is like... - 14 Aug 2010

My apologies that I haven't posted any new messages for a while. This has three causes:

1. A lot of progress has been made to our house. The terracotta pavement has been laid and the tiles in the bathroom are almost finished. And after more than six months, we finally have windows that can actually open and close. I had to chop off most of the plasterwork on top of four of these windows in order to achieve this, but at least we can open them now. So why keep going on about such a minor detail like a bit of plastering?

2. My mother in law's visit. She's had a relaxing holiday of almost a week over here. Err... well... relaxing... :-) And she'll be going home again later this afternoon.

3. What is life like? I could quote Doulas Adams here and argue that life is like a grapefruit. But I don't entirely agree with that. I'd rather say that life is like a watermelon because mine's got a lot more pips in it than the average grapefruit. And I've got the impression that after breakfast there definitely doesn't remain half a one anymore. I'd rather say that all that's left is the peel. On the other hand, it feels a lot more squidgy too. For example, when we drove back from Parma yesterday and Christine had spotted a nice plant by the side of the road from which she absolutely wanted to take a shoot to put in our garden. She said:

- "If I were to turn 'round and drive back to take a shoot from that plant, would you kill me?"

Isn't that a squidgy moment? And when she looks at you with those eyes burning with desire. The desire for a plant, that is. Isn't that simply an offer you can't refuse? Well, at least I couldn't.
If I were to say that life is like a jellyfish? It's very squidgy and it's got poisonous needles in stead of pips. Yes... that's much more like it.

Nah... Just kidding! ;-)

What is life really like, then? I'd say... life is like... a baby's bottom. It's so soft that it makes your fingers tingle. It's so smooth that even if you'd polish pure marble for decades it wouldn't nearly be as perfect. And at times, it can be quite smelly too! :-)

Someone else's fault - 03 Aug 2010

Today I'd like to elaborate on the Builders' Disease. This is a cerebral malfunction of unknown origin that affects roughly 90% of all people in some way employed in the building industry.

The Builders' Disease reveals itself in two forms which are quickly interchangeable:

1. The "The next guy will fix it" Syndrome

For example; imagine a building structure with a concrete foundation. On this concrete foundation, someone will put an insulation paste consisting of cement and polysterene grains. This person will put a layer that is way too thick. When confronted with the error, the person will answer: "The guys from the floor heating will scrape it off".

When the guys from the floor heating come, they'll draw your attention to the fact that the insulation has been laid too thickly. But in stead of fixing the problem, they'll tell you: "The guys from the sub-floor will fix it".

When the guys from the sub-floor come, they'll again explain that the insulation plus floor heating have been laid too high. These guys are a bit more advanced. Meaning that they'll try to negotiate first. In a sense like... "Now if you put your floor tiles a bit higher... Allright, you'd have an edge at the doors... But then everything would be straight and level..." When you then point out that you will not have an edge at the doors and that all of the outside doors have already been made at the appropriate hight, waiting to be installed, they'll reply: "We'll see what we can do". Meaning that they lay'll the sub-floor level and leave you with a sub-floor depth at the doors of... only 5mm. Upon which they'll say: "The guy who'll lay the tiles will fix it".

But when the guy from the tiles eventually arrives, he's facing an impossible job. The tiles are 20mm thick (real, hand-made terracotta). Plus at least 2mm of glue. You're getting the picture? If nothing's done, the tiles will stick out so much at the doorstep that someone may easily trip over them.

Solution: We can scrape off 17mm of the sub-floor with a grinding disc.

Result: Buckets full of dust. And my lungs full with dust too. But at least the door opens. Barely.


2. The "Someone else's fault" Syndrome

For example; imagine you want to order new windows. You have to do it well in advance because obviously all the firms are very busy. In January they're coming to measure the window frames, between the external window sills and the concrete beam above the window. They're professionals who are obviously aware that there's something called "plastering", allright? So far so good.

Oh, did I tell you that they're very busy? Only 7 months later they finally come to place the windows. Hurray! But... Uh oh... There's been a slight misunderstanding. The windows won't fit. In most of the rooms they manage to cut off just enough from the upper and lower edge so the windows barely fit. But in our bathroom and bedroom... they won't. The window is simply too large. Then you'll invariably get the following statement: "This is not my fault but it's the builder who went in the wrong. He must have lowered the upper beam. And look! The carpenter didn't do a very good job at installing the inner sills either because they're sticking out at least 5mm! (editor's note: it's only 2mm...)". If you then ask what they're going to do about it, they'll tell you: "You have to get in touch with your builder and he'll have to chop off the plastering and some of the concrete on top. When that's done, we'll come back to install these last 4 windows." At this point there is no more arguing because they'll deny every responsibility.

Fortunately, they still had to come back the next day to finish some of the other work. So I started chopping off the plastering on the upper part of the bathroom window. It broke my heart because I had to destroy a work that was so beautifully done. But... o surprise... Christine immediately recognised the original concrete beam sitting right under 15mm of plasterwork. This beam was already there from the moment the house was built more than 60 years ago. And we showed it to the windows man. When he saw it, he became all red and his lower jaw nearly hit the ground. But he quickly composed himself. At this point, it depends how far the Builders' Disease has already developed. In this case, it had reached the terminal stage.

- "See!?", he exclaimed, "Didn't I tell you?"
- "Tell us what?", we replied.
- "I did measure it correctly! Look, I even have 5mm of headroom!"
- "Hold it... hold it... And what about the plastering? You didn't think we were going to let that ugly concrete beam exposed, did you?"
- "But look, even with a normal layer of plastering, I still have enough room. They've just laid it too thickly!"

And so on and so forth. Even if you point out that the windows have a cuttable edge of at least 3cm both on top and below, the man will still state that this edge has to be cut off anyway (it only serves if you place the windows on the outside so it will cover the hole on the sides) and that he only has 5mm he can play with. 5mm he already lost because of the carpenter...

Solution: We can chop off the beautiful plastering on the upper part of the window opening and try to put a new (and thinner) layer of plastering ourselves after the window's in place.

Result: Buckets full of plaster and dust, an ugly concrete beam exposed and serious doubt whether any plaster can still be put up there with the windows still opening.

Well, in the mean time we were up for a surprise. I had already chopped off all of the plaster in the bathroom. And when we came back to our house this morning, the window was in place! Not only that, when I opened it, I noticed that I had 30mm (!) of space between the window and the concrete beam. In one word, I had chopped off the plastering for nothing! So for the other 3 windows I merely copped off a slit in which he can slide the window edge. And if he still dares to make one single complaint... Grrrr!!!

Harry's visit - 02 Aug 2010

Saturday evening. It has been a long and very hard day for Christine and I. Tired but happy we're overlooking our garden from the first floor of our house. I give her a big hug because she's earned it. After all, if it wasn't for her we wouldn't be standing here now.


The shadows grow taller. The sky's slowly preparing for the night. The gentle afternoon breeze has gone and everything's silent, apart from the singing cicadas . Even the birds seem to have temporarily stopped quarreling. Probably for them it's already bedtime by now.


Suddenly Christine tells me to be quiet and she points at the far end of our field in utter excitement. And then I see it as well. A family of wild boars is having an evening out to our garden! There's mum and dad... and three little piglets too! It's just amazing. Even though they must have spotted us, they don't seem to be alarmed at all and quietly, apart from the odd grunt every now and then, they head for the pool of mud next to the well near the top of the field. They're no more than 30 metres away from our house! Pity we don't have the camera. And by the time I'm getting it from the car, something startled them and they run off into the bushes on the other side. Christine and I are speechless. And happy... very happy indeed because we've been so fortunate to see these shy animals in the wild... correction... in our garden!


Sunday evening. It sounds too incredible to be true, but dad decided to come back on his own. He goes to the pool of mud, makes a bit of noise in a large bush next to it and then goes all the way behind our house and back. Not more than 15 metres away! This time I have the camera, although unfortunately it's already quite dark under the trees and at 8x zoom it was impossible to make a decent picture. Well, at least they're clear enough.


I decided to call him Harry, after a very close friend of mine who I'm sure will appreciate the compliment. :-)


And off he went, back into the forest. Goodbye, Harry. See you again soon!

The Nasty Little Man - 31 Jul 2010

Once upon a time, Little Red Riding Hood walked to the vast Forest of No Return. She wanted to buy some real estate there because she had enough of the big, wide world. She leapt and jumped along the path through the forest, looking for the palace of her dreams. Then, she heard a rustling sound in the bushes. Carefully she stepped a little closer to see what was hiding there. All of a sudden the Big Bad Wolf jumped at her from behind a tree.

- “Hahaaa”, the Big Bad Wolf roared, “What’s up, Little Red Riding Hood?”

Little Red Riding Hood wasn’t impressed at all by this sudden appearance. In fact, she thought the Big Bad Wolf looked pretty cool with one part of his shirt dangling out of his shorts.

- “I’m looking for a new home because I’ve had enough of the big, wide world ”, Little Red Riding Hood replied, “can you please help me out?

- “Sure I can, sure I can…”, the Big Bad Wolf said, “I know just the place for you!”

So he took her to a very very remote spot, well hidden on a crest within the forest. The place was absolutely fabulous and Little Red Riding Hood immediately fell in love with it. Yes, here she could be truly happy. There was just one little problem, though: she was looking at a ruin, not the palace she’d been dreaming of.

- “What do you think of that, ‘ey? Isn’t it a dream?”, the Big Bad Wolf said.

- “I don’t know... Just look at it… It’s completely derelict! It’ll need a lot of work before I can finally come and live here.”

- “Don’t you trust me then? Truly, I swear to you… I know just the right man to do it and it’ll cost you close to nothing.”

- “Allright then, it’s a deal. Take me to this man of yours.”

So the Big Bad Wolf took Little Red Riding Hood to the Nasty Little Man. He and his seven dwarfs would turn Little Red Riding Hood’s newly acquired ruin into a palace. And so the works started. In the beginning all went well. But then Little Red Riding Hood discovered a couple of flaws in the contract with the Big Bad Wolf.

- “Where’s the sewer?”, she suddenly asked.

- “A sewer? Well… there isn’t any of course!”, the Big Bad Wolf replied.

- “Then how am I supposed to go to the ladies’?”

- “Err… You could always go behind a tree?”, he uttered.

- “And what about insulation? I don’t want to be cold during the long and harsh winters.”

- “Insulation??? Are you joking? You don’t need any insulation over here!”, the Big Bad Wolf laughed at her.

Little Red Riding Hood found this a bit suspicious so she called Mr. Owl, just to be on the safe side. And Mr. Owl told Little Red Riding Hood that she did need the insulation. And that she did need an extra support in concrete in case the Big Bad Wolf’s brother (the Wolf of the Three Piglets) would come to blow her house down. And that she did need protection against the snowy mountain behind the house so it wouldn’t fall down on her. And he also informed her that the Big Bad Wolf had never asked him the official permission to start working. After all, Mr. Owl was in charge around these premises.

Little Red Riding Hood became angry. Very angry!

- “You’re fired!”, she shouted at the Big Bad Wolf.

The little eyes of the Big Bad Wolf narrowed. He started grinding his long teeth. His stinking breath blew mercilessly in Little Red Riding Hood’s face.

- “Oh really?”, he growled, “I warn you, girlie… don’t you mess with me! We had a contract, remember? And if you don’t obey me I’ll have you for supper!”

But then something happened which the Big Bad Wolf hadn’t anticipated. Little Red Riding Hood suddenly became taller… and taller… Her whole appearance changed. Her face became purple. Her eyes turned from bright blue into flaming red; casting little bolts of lightning at him. Before the Big Bad Wolf realised what was going on, Little Red Riding Hood had changed into the Evil Witch. She pointed her bony finger at him and hissed:

- “You were going to warn me about… what exactly?”

- “Rrrrribbit!... Rrrrribbit!...”, was all the Big Bad Wolf could utter when he discovered to his astonishment that the Evil Witch had turned him into a fat frog. “Rrrribbit!...”

The Evil Witch now looked at the Nasty Little Man, who was about to hand over his final bill to Little Red Riding Hood. Timing had never been one of his strong points. The piece of paper fluttered in his greasy hand as all of his body started shaking of fear. He was into great difficulties. Not only because he didn’t fancy being turned into a frog as well, but also because he still had to pay a twenty-percent under-the-table commission to the Big Bad Wolf. Or rather make that, to the fat frog. As harmless a creature the Big Bad Wolf may have become, he could still sing to Mr. Owl about some illegal practices the Nasty Little Man had carried out.

- “Rrrribbit!...”

Sweat dripped in big pearls from the forehead of the Nasty Little Man. His piggy eyes stood open wide. How could he possibly escape unharmed from this terrible position he found himself in?

- “Let me see that bill”, the Evil Witch said with a tone that was halfway between frozen nitrogen and sugar floss. For heaven’s sake, she even smiled at him! A smile like a kiss of death. Trembling he handed over the piece of paper to the Evil Witch.

- “Err… you’ll see… it’s all there…”, he stuttered.

- “I can see that”, the Evil Witch said, “you'd have me pay twice the price for a layer of concrete.”

- “Honestely… err… Ma’am, that’s the price the vendor’s charging me.”

- “Is it really? Then the vendor mustn’t like your ugly face very much because he said that for me the price would only be half of what you wrote here!”

- “Oh, but in that case, we could fix that, couldn’t we?” The Nasty Little Man was fighting for his life. He quickly scrapped the original figure and changed it into a more decent one.

- “And what do we have here?”, the Evil With continued, “Three goldpieces for installing a scaffolding? You cheeky bastard! It was I who put that scaffolding there!”

- “Yes indeed you did Ma’am, but… err… I still have to charge you for it, don’t I?”

- “Charge me for it???”

- “After all, it is my scaffolding and I had to pay for it, didn’t I?” The Nasty Little Man had never been any good at improvising, but what else could he do?

- “So you’re charging me three goldpieces for having installed your scaffolding? For that price I could've bloody bought myself a brand new one!”

- “It’s only a minor detail, now if…”

- “No! I’m not paying that! Next item…”

- “Allright.”

- “Pouring concrete on my terrace… two goldpieces…”

- “Yes? Is there anything wrong with that, Ma’am?”

- “Yes there is.”

- “Oh? And what may that be, Ma’am?”

- “You didn’t pour any concrete on my terrace. I had someone else do it.”

- “I see… Yes!!! Now I remember! What are two goldpieces anyway? Let’s just scrap that, shall we?… There you go…”

- “And now the final bit!”

- “Yes?”

- “The discount for all the work I did.”

- “Discount, Ma’am? For… your work???”

- “Yes. Three months working for you and I’ll only count eight hours per day (in stead of the ten or twelve I did) and I’ll also forget about all of those Sundays, allright? And to do you an even bigger favour, after all I’m a poor little lady and I’m not as strong as your seven dwarfs, I’ll only count half of the price you pay your dwarfs per hour of labour. So we arrive at… The round sum of…”

- “Yes???”

- “Four goldpieces!!!”, the Evil Witch exclaimed.

- “What??? Fff… Fff… Fffour ggg… gggoldpieces???”

- “Didn’t I just do you a big favour here?”, the Evil Witch said with the most soothing voice imaginable.

- “Four goldpieces??? For you watching me do all of the work???”

A sudden silence fell over the forest. The Nasty Little Man could not believe that he had just said that. Was it because his dream of a new Audi Q8 was evaporating in front of his eyes? Or was it because a warty, fat frog was biting in his buttocks?

- “Rrribbit!”

The Evil Witch was stunned by so much arrogance. She pointed her finger also at him. The Nasty Little Man stiffened of fear. But yet his pride did not allow him to apologise for the foul thing he had just said. His pride also made him fail to notice that his legs started shrinking. More and more until his feet were touching his fat belly.

But to his great relief, the magic had drained all of the Evil Witch’s powers. Also she started shrinking and eventually she became Little Red Riding Hood again. Tired but very much relieved that it was over, she turned her back at the Nasty Even More Little Man and started walking away. In the mean time, the Nasty Even More Little Man had regained his confidence because the Evil Witch had gone and only a frail little girl remained. He started shouting at her. Albeit not with his usual grumbling voice. Together with his legs, his voice had shrunk as if it had been puffed up by an amount of helium sufficient to blow up three medium-sized blimps.

- “And what about my money? I want to see my money now! Hey!!! Don’t you dare walking away from me! When will you give me my money??? I also have to pay a twenty-percent comm… Auch!!! You stinking frog!!! Get off me!!!”

- “Rrribbit!!!”

- “Hey!!! Where are you going??? You’ll hear from me in September! Do you hear? You’ll hear from me in September!!!...”

The Nasty Even More Little Man’s voice faded in the mist that began to cover the trees. Little Red Riding Hood was glad that it was over. A smile returned to her face and the roses started growing on her cheeks again.

- “Yes… come back in September”, she laughed… “If you still dare…”

Please don't forget about us!!! - 25 Jul 2010

When reading my previous message, you might forget that we have three other "babies" running around too. And "babies" is indeed the correct word because all of our cats need a lot of care and attention. Take Canelle, for example...


She's already quite a lady with her eight years of age. But nonetheless she's very shy. Which is quite obvious after all that she must have been through. Christine used to be a member of the Belgian Animal Protection Organisation and every now and then she received a magazine, packed with one sad story after the other. And there she was. The note next to her picture said: "thrown out when the baby arrived". We were absolutely gutted when we saw her lying there in the asylum, on the top shelf, far away from the other cats. So for two years and a half already she's part of the family. She's still a loner and hisses and claws at the others when they're getting too close. But on the other hand she's so very affectionate. Drooling by the gallon every time she's caressed. We often wonder what kind of a monster someone must be to have left her behind just like that.

Next is Blu. She was the "replacement" we received from the breeders of our beloved Ciuffa, a 9-month old kitten that died of the dreaded Feline Immunodeficiency Virus over a year ago...


Just like Ciuffa, she's not just "a" cat. Oh no! She's 100% genuine nobility with her Norwegian Forest Cat pedigree. There you go! Why pay so much money for a "cat", just to have a pedigree, you might ask? Well, at first we were also wondering. But now we're absolutely convinced that there is much more to the true Norwegian Forest pedigree than their enormous size, their lovely, long fur and the big, fat tail. These cats have - in four words - the most adorable character. They're so kind, loving and have no aggression in them whatsoever. Even though Blu likes to hiss at Flora every once and a while; just to enforce her "elderly" status. But for the rest, there's no cat in the world who'd give so much true love. Apart from little Flora perhaps. She does't speak very much, apart from a faint squeek every now and then. But her green, almondy eyes tell you more than a thousand words. Predominantly: "I love you". And what about Thomas, you might say?...


Well... Thomas is just... Thomas. Named after the youngest son of a close friend of ours, he's the coolest and most relaxed tomcat around. Hardly a year old but already the leader of the pack. We got him so Blu wouldn't be lonely anymore. After all, Canelle tends to avoid the company of the others and Norwegians are by exception very sociable cats. It worked out just fine. Even if it meant that we had to drive all the way up to one of the most remote places in Holland. It was more than worth it. He has a quality you may not immediately expect from a tomcat, but he's a keen... talker! He constantly goes about, babbling and purring to everything and everyone. Soooo cute! He's very fashionable too. Every day he finds something different to decorate his black and grey fur with. Yesterday it was a long, bright-yellow leaf with a piece of twig that he had stuck behind his left ear. Today, it was a big ball of hair and dust that he had attached to his big tail. Waving it about and shouting "Cooie!!! Look at me now! Don't you think I'm the prettiest boy on the planet?" It took some time to convince Flora of that fact. In the beginning she found him a bit too posh and pushy; always babbling at her and declaring his love and devotion... But now they've become inseparable. If you see one, you're likely to find the other one too.

Truly... one, big, happy family...

Flora's poem - 21 Jul 2010

I was born in Hungary. I didn't ask to be born. But you absolutely wanted me to, although I don't understand why. You didn't play with me, even though I like to play so very much. I came to sit on your lap and rolled over and back to show you my appreciation because you had decided to let me live. I meowed and gently tapped with my little paw on your face. I jumped with joy all across the room. But you didn't take any notice. I'm supposed to be a Maine Coon kitten and therefore my long fur needs a brush every once and a while. Something you never cared to do. Until my fur was full of knots and I shivered because I had nothing to protect me against the harsh winter cold. I cried, but you never listened. I was hungry, but all I got were a few leftovers. And still, I loved you. And I remained eternally grateful because you had decided to let me live.

And then one day, you sold me to a ruthless man for a fistful of money. You put me in a cage, together with all of my little brothers and sisters and let that man throw us in a lorry. A lorry full of little, hungry and thirsty kittens like me. I begged you not to let him do this. I begged you to let me stay. I'd be a nice girl and I wouldn't complain about anything. But you didn't listen. You were counting the few Florints in your hand and didn't look back at me anymore. The big door of the lorry closed and everything became dark. A darkness filled with the incessant cries of dozens of little kittens. I was so scared. I wished so hard that this was only a bad dream and that I would wake up in your arms again. But every time I opened my eyes I could only see the many cages filled with other kittens who shared my fate.

The journey was long. Very long. The air was filled with the stench of our poo and pee because noone brought us a box with cat litter so we could do our thing. We didn't get any food or water either. For some of my unfortunate brothers and sisters, the suffering had been too much and they gave up. Soon, a different and much more horrible smell mingled with the foul air in the back of the lorry. And everything remained dark. The lamenting faded away. As did the life in my veins.

When I was about take my last breath, the lorry was opened. The light was blinding and I opened my eyes in spite of them being nearly glued shut with pus. I didn't have the strength anymore to resist but nevertheless the man dragged me out of my cage by the skin of my neck. Even though that hurts so badly. For a glimpse I saw the devastation in the back of that lorry. I wish I hadn't looked. The man put a cold hose on me to wash most of the dirt off. My whole body trembled. I barely weighed 60% of what a kitten of my age and race should. Could you, a man of 80kg, imagine that you'd suddenly weigh 48kg anymore? Even worse, since I'm a kitten, I desperately needed food for my development because that's something I would have lost forever. And yes, you did give me food. A few scraps and some kind of stinking jelly that you wouldn't even feed to the rats. But again, I didn't complain. I even pointed my paw at you because I believed that also you are good and that you'd want me to be your friend. But you ignored me and left me in a small cage in a strange building. Yet, I was grateful. Grateful because the cage you had put me in was bigger than the one in the lorry and at least the air wasn't as foul. Yes, I was most grateful to you.

The night was long and cold. To my surprise, after this one night you already came for me to bring me to yet another destination. I wanted to see a vet because I didn't feel very well. I was so hungry. But all you did was printing a self-made note saying that a vet had declared me as healthy as a horse and signing it under the pretext that you're a vet. You shoved me in a small bag and threw me in a van.

The journey was again long. But fortunately not as long as the one you had made me undergo when you had come to drag me away from my mother. I shivered of fear and exhaustion. I made myself as tiny as possible in a corner of this bag, hoping that noone would notice me anymore.

You stopped the van and waited. Waited for over an hour. You were tired of driving and even though you had been paid to deliver me at my new destnation, you prefered that my new owner would drive through the snow in order to collect me. My new owner was called Christine. How could I ever imagine that fortune would turn so dramatically in my favour. Christine was nice to me. She smiled at me when my frightened eyes looked at her from the corner in my bag. She said gentle words to me and even caressed me on my little head. When we arrived at her house, she immediately saw in what state I was in and she did everything in her power to make me feel better. She called me "Flora", a name which I liked a lot. At least once every week she drove with me to the vet for a check up. She did make me swallow these nasty little pills. But I realised it was for my own good. I also got to know her husband Peter. Yes, I had found a new mum and dad. I even received two sisters, Canelle and Blu, and one brother, Thomas! Sisters and brothers with whom I could play the whole day long. I had finally found a place full of love. A place where I could be happy. And I showed them my appreciation in abundance. I started playing again; something I hadn't done in a long while. I started feeling better and gained a lot of weight in just a couple of weeks. I happily chased my little, green ball and made surprise attacks on the "mice" that were hidden under the large piece of cloth that Christine had given me as a present. Peter was so furious about what you had done to me, that he immediately claimed the small fortune back that you had made him pay for me. And even your bank agreed that you had committed fraud and immediately withdrew the small fortune from your account again to return it to Peter.

This made you mad. You wouldn't listen to reason. Your ego was so large that you believed that you had done nothing wrong at all. You were so mad that you went to court to complain about how unreasonable Peter had been with you. A courtcase that is still pending, but for which Christine and Peter are no longer afraid.

In your rage, have you ever thought about me? Have you ever wondered how things are going for me right now? Have you ever considered that the suffering you caused will have its effect throughout my entire life? Last week, my nose started leaking again and my breathing became once more difficult. So Christine and Peter took me to another vet yesterday in order to have a second opinion. On the x-rays you could clearly see that the infection on my lungs for which you are responsible has grown dramatically. The antibiotics with which I was treated last month, had only had a very limited effect and now the infection has developed into a full-size pneumonia. Soon, Christine and Peter will bring me to a specialist who'll have to take a sample from my lungs in order to determine whether it's a virus, resistant bacteria or fungus causing the disease.

But one thing's for sure. I'll keep on fighting. See... I'm still running about as if nothing's wrong with me. I'm still hissing at Blu and clawing playfully at Thomas' fat, black tail. Christine and Peter have lost three cats in less than a year. But they're not going to lose me. I truly realise now how beautiful life can be. I enjoy it way too much in order to let go. I've forgiven you for everything you've done to me. I consider it as the necessary pain someone has to undergo in order to find true happiness. Why can't you just be happy for me then?

The strole around our garden - 18 Jul 2010

Welcome to the guided tour along the Peter & Christine estate. Please follow the guide and do not step outside of the dedicated path. Thank you. Here you can see our house. It's nearing completion and when the windows will be in place next week, it will most certainly already look a whole lot different, wont' it? But Christine... where are you going? You're not going inside now are you? You're supposed to show mama Cosetta and friend Fiorella all corners of our estate! So put yourself together! I know that it's hot out there but come on... here in the mountains it's not nearly as hot as in the cities below! It's a mild 32° and a gentle breeze makes it more than bearable, even under the merciless midday sun.

Ah... ok... off we go into the large field in front of the house. We turn back one last time and please hold your cameras at the ready... there's a splendid view of the house coming up...

We continue west along the edge of the field. Can you see the woodlands in front of you? They're ours. To be precise, just the front part that is, which is bordering our field and going downhill in southerly direction. Not the forest on the hill just behind it (left on the picture)...

Here you can see it a bit more clearly. The woods on the foreground are ours, the ones on the hills in the distance are not...

We now take a small path on our right, in between the trees, and arrive at another, smaller field. This field isn't ours but the woods to your left are. They extend as far as the trees you can see about 50 yards further. In these woods there's not only a large variety of trees, plants and wildlife. You can find tasty mushrooms there (given that you know which ones to pick... :-) ), berries, beautiful flowers, wild little strawberries which are just packed with flavour and... if you know how to find them... delicious truffles!

Allright allright... We know that you're just tourists and that obviously you hadn't thought of wearing a pair of decent walking shoes when you came to visit our estate. So we'll skip the trail through the woods and head back for the main field. East, in the far distance, you can spot Mount Valestra, which is quite near to where mama Cosetta has her B&B... the place where we got to know this magnificent part of Italy...

Mind where you're going!!! I warned you that you were not to walk outside of the dedicated path! You nearly stepped on this beautiful flower which grows so lonely in this vast meadow...

South it goes... downhill. At the southwesterly edge of the field there is yet another path in between the trees which leads to another field...

Just look at that! The three mountains which dominate the area: (from left to right) Mount Prampa (1698m), Mount Cisa (1698m) and last but not least Mount Cusna, with its 2120m the second-highest peak in the entire Appennines. Do you see that large bush on the foreground, straight in the middle of the picture? That's more or less the border of our estate. It cuts the field in two from roughly east to west...

We're now going back to the house. By the way, all of the woods you can see on your right (east, southeast and south) plus the woods on the hill behind our house (north) are ours too. But they're not easily accessible and on top of that they're going rather steeply downhill on the south side. So we won't bother you tourists with a slightly adventurous journey through the wild and rough. I'm sure that you've seen enough as it is for the moment.

Oh... and please don't forget the guide! :-)

The land of fairytales - 16 Jul 2010

Today, I'd like to take you to the land of fairytales. The land where every new day brings about a new set of shades. Where every day the light is different and the distant mountains appear in a way like you've never seen them before. Where behind every corner nature has yet another surprise in store for you and you're obliged to halt your journey in utter astonishment. "Look at that!!!...", I said to myself when I turned my Vespa into one of these little, winding roads along the green Emilian slopes...

The sun was setting. It's evening dress painted the scenery in a flaming sort of orange. Dark smoke blew forth as it fell closer and closer to the horizon.

Eventually, it couldn't resist gravity any longer. One last ray shone across the mountaintop before it disappeared into the night.

The night which totally erases the beautiful painting, after which the master artist begins totally anew. With a new set of colours and brushes...

It's in this land that Christine and I now live...

Tribute to genuine craftsmen - 14 Jul 2010

Yes, they do exist: people who still take their work seriously and try their utmost to deliver a job well done. And we've found them! Take our new contractor for example. The electrician. Or better still... the people who've done the internal plastering and the sub-floor. We wanted to use as many natural and authentic materials as possible. And these guys have really amazed us. The plasterworks are truly a masterpiece and it would be a pity to put paint on them. Within the plaster there a millions of tiny pieces of local stone ("sasso") which give a beautiful effect. Just like it was done centuries ago. All people who've already visited our house agreed that it's a wonderful sight and our new geometer absolutely wanted their contact number.


Not surprisingly we wanted to hire the same guys to lay the sub-floor upon which the pavement will be put later on. Like I already mentioned, this particular firm uses a terracotta based substance, rather than the concrete sub-floor that is usually used. Yes... it's twice as expensive... Not really the sort of thing you'd normally choose when your financial situation isn't all that brilliant. But this terracotta mixture is in fact the same as the one the Romans already used for their floor heating 2000 years ago. After all, terracotta conducts heat many times better than concrete. This means that for starters we'll not nearly have to spend as much on central heating and that we'll have a return on investment in perhaps a couple of years already. But it also means that the central heating will have an even more pleasant feel than with normal floor heating.

But two weeks ago... disaster struck. Christine had already been pushing them to come as quickly as possible since they had been deferring their work for already quite some time. We were actually heading towards a tough choice. Either waiting even longer or hiring someone else and settling for the "normal" concrete. Unfortunately in our region noone else offers the same terracotta sub-floor. Christine tried to call them one last time and to our horror they had very bad news for us. They were already involved in a very big building project and they were under a lot of pressure to finish that before a tight deadline. It had become impossible to fit us in before September. Christine and I were devastated. Our wallet perhaps a bit less so. But we had such high esteem of these particular workers and their products that it would really be a pity having to revert to "normal" materials and - who knows - people who didn't take their work as seriously.

And then... the phone rang. It was the foreman again. And this time he had just wonderful news! The sort of news which would actually make one believe in divine intervention (although almost but not quite to me... hehehe...). A serious problem had occured at the big building project and the works had to be stopped for four days. Just enough time to do the job at our house!!! Hurray!!!

These guys actually come from the city of Modena, which is almost an hour's drive away. When they had come to do the plasterworks, they had rented a small cottage in our village for the period of the works. After all, this would save them a lot of time and in the current summer heat it's much more pleasant over here in the mountains. Can you believe that they worked from early morning until 9 'o clock in the evening? When they returned, Christine treated them on her famous pasta with broccoli and Gorgonzola cheese. In order to give you an idea about how close friends they've become in the mean time, the foreman confided that when he had to tell Christine that they weren't able to make it, he had burst out in tears. Where do you still find this kind of commitment? We feel so very fortunate!


The process of laying this terracotta sub-floor is quite similar than that of a normal concrete floor. First some patches are put all across the room to establish the exact hight. (You can also see the tubes of the floor heating on the picture...)



Then the terracotta mixture is sprayed through a hose and levelled by hand.

And here's a picture of the result. It's so beautiful that it's almost a pity that it still has to be covered with a pavement. By the way, the pavement will also be made of real terracotta.

It doesn't just look nice, there isn't any odour from solvents or other nasty products that are used in the "normal" concrete mixture. This is a 100% natural product and you can feel that right away. Now... the pavement...