Twenty years ago, I discovered the Tuscan hill town I now call home. I first posed for a photo in the town’s iconic logia in September 1999. I returned again and again during the following twenty years, each time capturing a photo, which over the years would include my son.
My photo journey under its picturesque arches captured my life: joys, sorrows, quests, and achievements. Little did I know, when I wrote in my 1999 travel journal: “We discovered this little medieval town, it is so magical. I hope I come back here someday”….that my future self would have a son; lose my husband, my job, and my house in the same week; become diagnosed with MS, move 12 times in 10 years, land and ultimately voluntarily leave my best and final job as General Counsel, buy an apartment and move to this town! What I did know for sure, back in 1999, was that someday, somehow, I would live in Italy.
How that would happen, I hadn’t a clue, at that point, it was more like a wistful daydream and the aforementioned life events posed a bit of a distraction to actually getting specific plans underway for a while.
During the turns and twists of the ensuing two decades, it became increasingly clear that through all the good and bad, the one place that soothed my health, inspired my mind, and opened my heart, was Italy.
The same became true for my son. The first real steps toward our Italian journey took root when an old Italian auntie we were visiting promised Julian he could come back and live with her for a year when he got into high school.
This fanciful invitation was made on a visit when my son was about 8 and was surely an expression of momentary love and affection, not an actual invitation to serve as a future camp counselor to a teenager. Nonetheless, we have auntie to thank for planting a seed that would take root and become the genesis for our move to Italy.
Years later, in 2015, enrollment in a soccer program in Umbria which boasted a strong academic program in a public Italian school was substituted for the Auntie’s loving but illusory invitation. .. Julian was entering 10 grade. He was a year ahead in school at the time, and we acknowledged the potential loss of an academic year due to language and transition.
The national Italian public school was ranked as one of the best in the country and offered a “convitto”(dormitory) for the several foreign students who attended the school in partnered programs in the area, including a culinary school, language institutes, and other soccer training programs. While soccer training was not something Julian intended to pursue after the first year, he really loved the academic school, he learned Italian, made friends and was becoming thoroughly Italian. He asked to continue the following year.
Although I was heartbroken to have my only child so far away, I felt Julian deserved the opportunity to continue to thrive in this global environment (many of the students were not only Italian but other countries like Mexico, Sweden, Russia, Kenya, and Croatia).
At that point we made an application for our dual Italian citizenship, which I felt would provide us with future options for living, working, and schooling in the EU as well as Italy. We received our citizenship recognition in 2016, and it really changed our lives.
I reconciled myself to Julian’s life abroad by scheduling numerous (albeit short) trips to Italy to see him and visit with his teachers. I tried to schedule these during work or school breaks so that we would have time to visit together and sometimes squeeze in a visit with our Italian family and friends.
It was around this time that I realized that not only Italy was where I thrived, but it was where my son wanted to be as well.
This started THE PLAN for My New Italian Life. I approached the goal strategically, practically, spiritually, and doggedly. Notebooks were created, lists were made, calendars were established. My goal was to buy a place in Italy by March of 2018 and move permanently by 2023.
I spent my time reading everything I could about Italian real estate purchases. Scrolling endlessly on the various real estate sites (there is no MLS system in Italy, so you have to do a lot of leg work to find properties using multiple websites, most of which are out of date).
I began setting up trips, not only to see Julian but to find real estate and to stay in towns with the idea of “trying out” and imagining how it would be to live.
With only 10 to 21 days at a time and sometimes much less, these “discovery trips” were often frustrating and always disappointing.
Especially since my “to-do list” had “buy an apartment in Italy” glaring at me Every. Single. Day.
On one of my trips in 2017, I decided I would begin staying in Castiglion Fiorentino. (the aforementioned town I discovered in 1999). I stayed for five to ten days each time and although it was sometimes rainy or a bit cold, I fell in LOVE with the town.
I have very close friends in the surrounding countryside, as well as nearby towns. I was also very fortunate to have become acquainted with an American who owned a second home and was very involved in the town.
She introduced me to many locals, and once they knew I wa interested in purchasing a home, seemed to make it a town project!
During my trip in March 2017, I put a contract together for the purchase of THE perfect place!!! It had a view of the valley, it had an outside terrace overlooking the valley, and I was imagining all the dinner parties alfresco I would have there! (a great view and terrace was a must on my list)
I could not wait to get the keys! After I left town and returned to the states I got a call from my Italian lawyer. I picked up the phone and heard his soul searing words “Game over”.
I was stunned, heartbroken, and angry. How could this be?? This was my perfect home!! And my calendar said BUY HOME IN ITALY BY MARCH 2018, move stuff in Summer.
After picking myself up, and pulling myself together, I booked another trip for the end of May 2017, with the fierce determination that I WOULD FIND MY PLACE!
I scoped out dozens of properties, even conceding that perhaps I would have to be willing to look in surrounding towns. The prospects were slim and the willingness for realtors to schedule appointments in advance was a real struggle. I commandeered the help of my friends, my son, and the local townspeople who we befriended. The May trip was a whirlwind of Real estate visits with owners, multiple realtors, friends, and local acquaintances.
Anyone who knew of a place for sale was on notice and engaged in the game. The last weekend of my trip arrived without even a viable prospect. I was once again downtrodden.
I said a prayer to San Michele, the patron saint of the town as well as my adopted patron saint. I said, “if it is meant to be that I live here in this town, then show me the home. Otherwise, I will go home and rethink the plan”. I left my air bnb for an aperitivo with my American friend.
She had let the bar owner (who has since become a good friend) know about my quest. To my surprise, upon my arrival, he handed me a frosty glass of prosecco and offered to call a friend who had a property he thought she might be willing to sell. Do you want to see it? YES!!
We arranged to see it the next morning, through the owner’s housecleaner, as she no longer resided in the property. As soon as I walked in I knew this was it!!!
This property was amazing, with three big bedrooms, two lofts, a large kitchen, and not one but two fabulous terraces with views of the entire valley!
I called the owner, we made a lease contract over the phone, reduced it to writing in the months to come, and I arrived in late august to move a few things in.
We agreed to discuss purchasing the property in December. At this point, Julian was about to turn 18, the apartment was within walking distance of a really great (and much smaller)public Italian secondary school. We agreed that a transfer to the town school made sense, with the help and support of neighbors and friends nearby and my frequent trips (I now increased the frequency to every two to three months) this would support Julian living in the apartment alone.
Julian became in charge of the household, responsible for handling its day-to-day operation. Since we were leasing the utilities were NOT transferred to our name, so the owner paid these, and I paid her upon receipt. Mamma Mia! The first winter gas bills were so high!! We faced these and other surprises in the first year.
By December, I was certain I wanted the house. The owner and I met on my December trip and put a plan together for purchase. We had NO realtor, the seller’s brother was an attorney and they picked a well-regarded notaio in a neighboring province to handle the transaction.
It felt like it took an eternity to confirm a closing date, and the transaction was ultimately scheduled for March 2018 (ACCORDING TO MY PLAN!!)
After a few rescheduled meetings during the week I was in Italy, the avalanche of paperwork, and the almost endless smoke filled meeting with the notai, the seller, her brother, my son, and a “translator” who really didn’t know much English himself) we finally closed the deal in March of 2018!!! When the notaio finally asked his assistant for “the special pen”(which apparently he used only to sign the final documents) I was ready to jump up on the highly polished grand inlaid wood table and do the happy dance. I resisted.
The transaction was smooth, and it was a good deal for both the seller and me. I then returned to the states, keys in hand, ready to reassess my strategic plan for moving to Italy.
All kinds of steps, considerations, now getting down to the “nitty gritty”. How long to stay at my job, when can I move, what are my financial options? Due to the aforementioned ‘Life events in 2009, I had really only started over financially as of 2014. I was also supporting my mother, and my son(so that makes three households). I had a picture with lots of outgoing costs, coupled with the numerous trips to Italy, it was looking pretty unrealistic to move permanently for many more years.
Some unexpected funds came through, not much, (I mean really, not much) but enough to create a shoestring plan to Italy within the next 5 years. Yet, a nagging message kept coming to me as I mapped out my plans and calendar of tasks, “Be ready by fall of 2020, something unexpected, bad, and really big is going to happen”. With that in mind, I had a parallel track of timelines created. I had a strategic notebook and calendar, which had tabs for each step needed to move. It included moving my stuff(and all the iterations), financial stuff, change of address, canceling my apartment lease, dealing with my car, my mom, everything. I had basically two lists and target dates.
And then COVID hit in February 2020! I was to see my son in March, then moved to April, then May, then July. By May it was clear that travel would be iffy for the foreseeable future.
The travel ban hit me like a brick. I realized for the first time that my son was 5 thousand miles away, alone, isolated, and even friends and neighbors would be hard pressed to help him due to the total lockdown Italy was experiencing.
I basically redlined the 2023 plan and fiercely zoned in on the fall of the 2020 deadline. In the late spring-early summer of 2020, I was able to put an exit plan together with my employer, and sadly, reluctantly, and grievingly resigned from my position. It was a very very difficult decision, yet one I knew I had to make if I were to be able to support my son emotionally and physically in the now uncertain future brought on by this pandemic.
From June until Mid September I super tasked my task list. Everything that had been “penciled in” had to be put into action, and fast.
My last day of work was Sept 18, and my flight (ONE WAY) to Italy on September 20. I packed up the entire contents (ok I culled out a few things here and there) of three storage units plus my studio apartment, sold my car, canceled my apartment, changed my address, and organized travel for both me and my dog during a time when flights were being canceled on a whim, travel rules changed daily, and scant exceptions for nonresidents traveling to Italy existed.
With a lot of attention to detail, and help from my assistant, my Italian town Mayor and the commune, the shipping agent, and my citizenship processor who came to the rescue with documents at the last minute, I got it all together. I boarded an Alitalia flight from Fort Lauderdale to JFK and on to Rome where I was picked up by my son. I embarked on the requisite 14-day quarantine, thus missing the last fun and carefree days of the Italian Summer of 2020 (fleeting as it was for everyone).
Before Italys’ invocation of the Covid restrictions for the Second Wave, I was able to see a few friends and get household improvements underway. The shipment arrived, and I used the quarantine period to begin unpacking and scheduling painters, plumbers, electricians, etc. to get the house settled for the long term.
On my frequent but short trips, I had not noticed the need for storage solutions, the functionality of the kitchen and bathrooms, and how totally WHITE everything was. So, two months of workers coming and going.
Showing up and not, and me pushing them as I did myself (yes, I made a new notebook with the tasks lists and deadlines) yet here in Italy, it proved difficult to get the tradesmen to stick to my script!
Here we are, with the start of 2021, and I am still adjusting to My New Italian Life.