House #3: Graham's place

Before we left for the market today, we called "S" to express our concern that we haven't really been shown any properties. Two apartments in two weeks doesn't make us feel like we're getting anywhere. She told us to come into her office after we'd done our shopping.

But she had nothing to our taste in our price range. I think she's is starting to realize that we might be a hard sell, but it's not so complicated, really; we are very clear what we're looking for. We don't see anything like it on "S"'s computer, however. I know she can only show us what's on her books, but still: she's showing us properties she knows we won't want.

They smoked heavily around Kepler, not seeming to realize that that might be bad. But every cloud of smoke has a silver lining, I suppose...

Because then "S" pulled up a property which, while out of our stated price range at 196,000 euros, still looked quirky and interesting enough to get us at least a little interested. Our frustration with the slowness of the search so far made us consider stretching our budget a bit. We're getting a little antsy. "Sure," we said, "show us." She made an appointment with the owner, and we set off to see the place in person.

This house was was funny from the start. "S" had warned us that the owners, a British couple who'd lived for a very long time in the area, were complete flakes, and alcoholics. But it took a solid 10 minutes of banging on the gate and making phone calls to get Graham to come to the door. Whatever.

The scene that met us on the other side was beautiful. Green. Graham's property, including nearly a hectare of land, consisted almost entirely of vertically ranged terraces, wave upon wave of them with ancient retaining walls, up to the crest of the hill high above us, resulting in a series of switchback paths. Very explorable, very green.

And steep. We climbed the stairs to the house, perched on the hill and overlooking the river below. Walking around toward the back of the house, we were shown into a very cool dining room.

The wall/door through which we entered and the facing wall across from us were solid glass. Through the opposite side we could see a patio, extending the dining room outside in good weather. And the two longer walls were both solid stone, the exterior one being bedrock with an ancient cistern carved into it, and the other forming what was once the exterior wall of the original house. Thick, solid stone.

(The images are poor, I know. I have to rely on the website for images. Because we forgot to take any. Sorry. But it's the side of the house as viewed from the patio I just mentioned. See the glass wall to the dining room?)

Turning into the kitchen beyond, we found a very lived-in but very homey, if rather small, kitchen with two stoves, one gas and one wood-burning, which was hooked up to the original fireplace chimney of the house. the walls covered with very old-looking tiles. Needs work, but very cosy, and as you can see, very narrow:

Did I say narrow? Forget that. That kitchen is positively vast compared to the sitting-room we found through the next doorway. I couldn't believe it was a room, honestly. I know my last Chicago flat had a huge closet, but still: my closet was bigger than their living room. Yikes. Fortunately, this room and the kitchen shared what was the original house footprint, meaning that the wall between then could come out, joining them into a much nicer kitchen/living space with a river view. It would have to. The sitting room was so tiny, and was made even tinier by the wooden stairs up.

Upstairs I think I won't even show you pictures of. Partly because the images are so crappy, but also because there wasn't much to see. Mirroring the three narrow strips of room below, we found a narrow office space (yes with broadband), leading through to a narrow bedroom, leading through to another narrow bedroom. None of which to my taste. The final bedroom, which sits atop the glassed dining room, has a balcony looking at the hillside.

By the way, you may be wondering, "where's the bathroom?" Right. It's just outside on the ground floor. You go out the kitchen side door, and turn left. Easy access from the patio, less so from the bedrooms.

"But wait," I hear you cry, "there are three floors in the topmost image above." Relax, dear reader, I'm getting to it. For beyond the restroom and down some steps lies yet another outdoor patio, spilling out from a completely independent studio apartment on the bottom level, complete with tiny kitchen, tiny bedroom, and tiny bath.

This house is nothing if not interesting.

Next we went to check out the land. And it was great. The terraces lead one to the next, switching-back all the way up the hill, occasionally diverting into little nooks with benches or sitting areas. Some parts are flat, some are under cultivation, some are just grass. The views overlooked, from various angles, a vineyard, the river, a cemetery, and the highway in the distance. But panoramic no doubt.

Also down one terrace path and away from the house we found two structures. One was an old stone goat shed (did I mention they had goats?). We passed, and a huge head with horns poked out at us. Kepler loved it.

The other structure was larger, and would make a nice rehab. Once the stables and garbage and junk were removed. 22 feet square, ie 450 square feet, including a lofted sort of mezzanine hideaway atop the stable stalls. "Where I escape," said Graham. "But at least muck out the stables," I thought.

But then, to close out our visit, we went for a further walk around some of the terraces. Amazing land. Wild, savage, with not only space, but trails. And herbs and flowers and cacti.

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So why didn't we buy it? Primarily, it boils down to space. The entire footprint of the original house is 25 square meters. That's a nice sized room, which means that the house amounts to a kitchen, a bedroom, and, if we could get a stairway down to the bottom floor, a lounge.

One bedroom.

Then, outside the original stone perimeter, there's the dining room and second bedroom.

One and a half bedrooms.

The bathroom would need to be extended upward, which is real construction, but I'm not going downstairs and outside to pee in the middle of the night.

Then there's the remise, which could be a great guest house-slash-atelier, but again, with major construction.

And with a starting price of 196,000 euros (which "S" says we can maybe get down to 170,000), it's just too much. We're afraid the costs will spiral out of control.

And besides, we're just getting started. We're confident we'll find something a little bigger, and in budget. And so it goes.