We have had something in the works behind the scenes for a few months, but we can finally let others into the loop: we've bought a house here! There is a lot to report, since there has been a lot going on in various directions. There has been a lot of bureaucracy and some differences that you might find interesting (or frustrating at second hand!).
To give an overview of how we found the house: since we were in the process of selling the Atlanta house, and our remaining personal effects were being shipped over to the tiny space we are now occupying, space was a consideration. Combine that with:
1. Our desire to have a home rather than a vanilla rental with low-quality furnishings;
2. A slightly better euro-dollar exchange rate compared to when we arrived;
3. A greatly depressed real-estate market here in Todi;
4. A greatly inflated real-estate market in Atlanta;
5. A minimum of 2 more years here living actively;
6. Low real-estate carrying costs here
and you have the formula for Househunters International, Hook Version. We traipsed around with various real-estate agents who showed us their offerings.
A note about the real estate market here. While some houses have been renovated and are photo-shoot-ready, many of the houses appear to have been left as they were the day Granny moved to the old folks' home, complete with items in the fridge, in one place used Q-tips on the edge of the tub, and so on. Curb appeal isn't something that really comes into things here, somehow.
We'd seen a lot of houses, and I tracked down the owner of my dream house (one I've loved since the first time we came to Todi; it sold in December 2012, and had had some work done on it. Subsequently, there hadn't been any more progress or action visible for years) using a combination of local intel and (incredibly) a paid private eye. He was mildly interested in receiving an offer, but upon learning exactly how bad an investment he'd made (it was an investment house, not one he wanted to live in), he expressed dismay and a desire to have time to consider the situation.
We were in agonies, because this house has everything you can imagine in a charming Italian house! However, we had received a call from an agent for an appointment on a Friday afternoon; prior to going to look at his property, Michael and I discussed what it would take to increase our offer for the dream house. We both stated that we were open to seeing this newly-listed property, and we would then make a decision on our offer.
As we walked through this new property, we just couldn't even look at each other. While it's not my dream house by a long chalk, the price was a THIRD of what the other fellow really wanted to get; in so many ways, it is absolutely perfect! Part of a larger palazzo, this property is what's called a cielo-terra (sky-ground), meaning (roughly) similar to a townhouse. Except, of course, that these are buildings dating to the 1400s and earlier in some cases, and they have been subdivided over the years in very peculiar ways. An American townhouse would be a uniform column; Italian cielo-terras, on the other hand, are more like a Jenga structure: some floors are larger than others, and share a roof with someone else's apartment or possibly may host someone else's apartment under the roof profile.
In general, a cielo-terra is the most valuable type or property because you're not walking over people's heads, nor are they walking on yours. You also have more possibilities for renovation, since the plumbing and wiring access are available to you between floors.
Apart from the fact that it's a cielo-terra, it offers a large-enough entry hall, a first-floor that is great for "day use" (living room/dining room/kitchen plus powder room and guest suite possibilities), and an amazing "night zone" (three bedrooms, two of which are enormous, one bathroom, a kitchen that can be converted to a bathroom, and then a walk-through study/library). There is a terrace off the master bedroom, and an exterior stairway to the attic, which is large enough to offer considerable storage and the possibility of conversion to an office.
After having inquired three times about the price, we left the agent just in front of our current front door (about 100 m from the palazzo we'd just left). We looked at each other, and were of one mind: make an offer before someone else snapped it up. Next step: find the real estate agent again! He was lurking in his little kiosk, and looked mildly surprised, but happily took down our details. We were perfectly prepared to offer the asking price, but he suggested we knock a bit off; we took all of his suggestions and crossed our fingers!
The next morning, it was under contract to us! However, before it was really under contract, we had to transfer the earnest money (a full third of the contract price, by the way) from the US. That was an adventure to be described in a different blog.
And now began the waiting period: there were currently renters in the space, so we would have to wait to close until they departed September 30. Because of the long wait (this was in July!), our agent recommended that we file the purchase agreement in the Comune. This meant meeting the sellers for contemporaneous signatures of an official, customized document rather than just having signed copies of the preprinted-and-hand-filled-in forms that can serve as an official offer when closing is imminent.
The owners were representatives of a family trust, and seemed really kind. They have a great reputation in town, and they were very patient as we went through the stipulations and made sure we understood everything. As you'd expect, the exact sections of the exact structure of the exact plat were delineated. We signed, put on the "marche da bollo" (remember stamp taxes you learned about in history classes? These are alive and well here. To get a "marca da bollo" you go to your local tobacconist's and get one. These were 16 euros for every 100 lines of writing on the contract plus 2 euros for every addendum page (the plat drawings). This is also the origin of the expression "papal bull"), and shared smiles all around.
And that's when it came out. One of the owners casually said, "Oh, and there's a basement room that can't be separated or sold separately from the property, so you can have it for free as part of the purchase if you want it. Only thing is, there's a heating oil tank in it that you'll have to remove. It will probably have to be specially treated to be removed in pieces, because it was built in that room. It's too large to go through the doors." With my background in property condition surveys, I of course go into a panic and think, "Abort, abort, abort!" but I try to stay calm and cool and find out more information.
That's a story for another blog post. But the short answer is, I know the person who put in the oil tank in 1993; methane arrived into centro in 1995, so the tank was in use for only two years. I've looked at it, and there is no apparent leaking (nor would we expect there to be, knowing the person who built it), and they can pull it out without too much disruption to our lives.
In the meantime, we also discovered that in fact, it's not the space the owners thought it was...and they COULD sell it separately. So we've been trying to find out whether they'll honor the offer of the space, given that the classification is not what they thought it was.
And there you have it! Phase One of the Hook Househunting Huzzah.
Love,
Alexandra
To give an overview of how we found the house: since we were in the process of selling the Atlanta house, and our remaining personal effects were being shipped over to the tiny space we are now occupying, space was a consideration. Combine that with:
1. Our desire to have a home rather than a vanilla rental with low-quality furnishings;
2. A slightly better euro-dollar exchange rate compared to when we arrived;
3. A greatly depressed real-estate market here in Todi;
4. A greatly inflated real-estate market in Atlanta;
5. A minimum of 2 more years here living actively;
6. Low real-estate carrying costs here
and you have the formula for Househunters International, Hook Version. We traipsed around with various real-estate agents who showed us their offerings.
A note about the real estate market here. While some houses have been renovated and are photo-shoot-ready, many of the houses appear to have been left as they were the day Granny moved to the old folks' home, complete with items in the fridge, in one place used Q-tips on the edge of the tub, and so on. Curb appeal isn't something that really comes into things here, somehow.
We'd seen a lot of houses, and I tracked down the owner of my dream house (one I've loved since the first time we came to Todi; it sold in December 2012, and had had some work done on it. Subsequently, there hadn't been any more progress or action visible for years) using a combination of local intel and (incredibly) a paid private eye. He was mildly interested in receiving an offer, but upon learning exactly how bad an investment he'd made (it was an investment house, not one he wanted to live in), he expressed dismay and a desire to have time to consider the situation.
We were in agonies, because this house has everything you can imagine in a charming Italian house! However, we had received a call from an agent for an appointment on a Friday afternoon; prior to going to look at his property, Michael and I discussed what it would take to increase our offer for the dream house. We both stated that we were open to seeing this newly-listed property, and we would then make a decision on our offer.
As we walked through this new property, we just couldn't even look at each other. While it's not my dream house by a long chalk, the price was a THIRD of what the other fellow really wanted to get; in so many ways, it is absolutely perfect! Part of a larger palazzo, this property is what's called a cielo-terra (sky-ground), meaning (roughly) similar to a townhouse. Except, of course, that these are buildings dating to the 1400s and earlier in some cases, and they have been subdivided over the years in very peculiar ways. An American townhouse would be a uniform column; Italian cielo-terras, on the other hand, are more like a Jenga structure: some floors are larger than others, and share a roof with someone else's apartment or possibly may host someone else's apartment under the roof profile.
In general, a cielo-terra is the most valuable type or property because you're not walking over people's heads, nor are they walking on yours. You also have more possibilities for renovation, since the plumbing and wiring access are available to you between floors.
Apart from the fact that it's a cielo-terra, it offers a large-enough entry hall, a first-floor that is great for "day use" (living room/dining room/kitchen plus powder room and guest suite possibilities), and an amazing "night zone" (three bedrooms, two of which are enormous, one bathroom, a kitchen that can be converted to a bathroom, and then a walk-through study/library). There is a terrace off the master bedroom, and an exterior stairway to the attic, which is large enough to offer considerable storage and the possibility of conversion to an office.
After having inquired three times about the price, we left the agent just in front of our current front door (about 100 m from the palazzo we'd just left). We looked at each other, and were of one mind: make an offer before someone else snapped it up. Next step: find the real estate agent again! He was lurking in his little kiosk, and looked mildly surprised, but happily took down our details. We were perfectly prepared to offer the asking price, but he suggested we knock a bit off; we took all of his suggestions and crossed our fingers!
The next morning, it was under contract to us! However, before it was really under contract, we had to transfer the earnest money (a full third of the contract price, by the way) from the US. That was an adventure to be described in a different blog.
And now began the waiting period: there were currently renters in the space, so we would have to wait to close until they departed September 30. Because of the long wait (this was in July!), our agent recommended that we file the purchase agreement in the Comune. This meant meeting the sellers for contemporaneous signatures of an official, customized document rather than just having signed copies of the preprinted-and-hand-filled-in forms that can serve as an official offer when closing is imminent.
The owners were representatives of a family trust, and seemed really kind. They have a great reputation in town, and they were very patient as we went through the stipulations and made sure we understood everything. As you'd expect, the exact sections of the exact structure of the exact plat were delineated. We signed, put on the "marche da bollo" (remember stamp taxes you learned about in history classes? These are alive and well here. To get a "marca da bollo" you go to your local tobacconist's and get one. These were 16 euros for every 100 lines of writing on the contract plus 2 euros for every addendum page (the plat drawings). This is also the origin of the expression "papal bull"), and shared smiles all around.
And that's when it came out. One of the owners casually said, "Oh, and there's a basement room that can't be separated or sold separately from the property, so you can have it for free as part of the purchase if you want it. Only thing is, there's a heating oil tank in it that you'll have to remove. It will probably have to be specially treated to be removed in pieces, because it was built in that room. It's too large to go through the doors." With my background in property condition surveys, I of course go into a panic and think, "Abort, abort, abort!" but I try to stay calm and cool and find out more information.
That's a story for another blog post. But the short answer is, I know the person who put in the oil tank in 1993; methane arrived into centro in 1995, so the tank was in use for only two years. I've looked at it, and there is no apparent leaking (nor would we expect there to be, knowing the person who built it), and they can pull it out without too much disruption to our lives.
In the meantime, we also discovered that in fact, it's not the space the owners thought it was...and they COULD sell it separately. So we've been trying to find out whether they'll honor the offer of the space, given that the classification is not what they thought it was.
And there you have it! Phase One of the Hook Househunting Huzzah.
Love,
Alexandra
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