Dashed hopes

The four things we wanted in an apartment were: a lot of light; three bedrooms (we want to have room for guests, especially our two children and their partners); two baths (for the same reason); and, because of our advanced age, an elevator. One listing seemed to have almost everything we wanted. The apartment was on the south side of Fidenza's Via Cavour, the wide main street that's a pedestrian mall most of the time.

Even on a rainy day, Via Cavour has plenty of charm, and light

The photos in the listing were dark and out of focus, but so were most of the apartment photos we were looking at. We knew if it faced Via Cavour it would get southern light all day long. How dark could it be?

Moreover, it had three bedrooms and an elevator, and while there wasn't a second bath, it did have a sort of powder room with plumbing for a toilet and sink, which could potentially be turned into a full bath. And it was just barely in our price range.

Pam and Romano went to see the place with the real estate agent, a dapper fellow named Massimo, and sent back slightly better pictures and enthusiastic reports. They looked at several other apartments on our behalf as well, and there were three others that we all liked. But the place on Via Cavour intrigued us the most.

Here's a shot Pam took of the kitchen, or what was left of it. (Italians often take everything with them, even the cabinets, when they move.)

And here to the right is the living room. With a balcony!





I think we may have been in a bit of a shopping frenzy. So much so that we decided to make an offer, even though we'd only seen the place virtually.

On our instructions, Pam called Massimo and left him a message saying that we wanted to buy the apartment, naming a price below asking but not, we thought, insultingly far below.

He never called her back. Either we'd badly misjudged Italian price sensitivities, or someone else had snapped the place up. We were very disappointed.

A week and a half later Pam happened to be walking by Massimo's office and stopped in. Whatever happened to the apartment on Via Cavour, she asked him.

"Oh," he said. "I've been meaning to get back to you on that. Yeah, the sellers are interested."

This was carrying Italian insouciance a bit far, we thought. And from there things kept going downhill. As negotiations proceeded Massimo couldn't seem to tell us what the monthly condo fee was, or how many square meters the apartment was, even after we'd all seemingly agreed on a price. The seller half of this deal showed no interest in selling. Finally we  withdrew the offer and gave up on trying to buy long distance.

That was in September. We decided to come over in November and do our house-hunting in person. The digital alternative had proved to be just too frustrating. We figured we'd look at Via Cavour, if it were still on the market. But there were several other apartments that looked possible--some with full working kitchens and motivated sellers--and we wanted to see them all.