Our Life in Italy: Scrap Metal, Cold Showers and New Plans
A scrap dealer, a surprise police visit and a bulldozer for our new olive grove: our plans for life in Italy are becoming reality.
9/27/20263 min read
What a fantastic day!
The mornings are getting a little cooler, but during the day the sun is still lovely and warm. With temperatures approaching 29°C, it’s time to get out and about. The beach is “just around the corner”. Well, an hour’s drive away. But once you’re there, you really do feel like you’ve escaped for a while. Lying on the beach in late September: one of those little moments of happiness to savour. Something we certainly didn’t do very often before.
We’re gradually beginning to realise that the plans we’ve been making are becoming reality. But making those plans happen also means doing some serious clearing out.
There are literally tonnes of scrap metal lying around the property. The previous owner was quite the collector. Me? Not so much. I have no ambition to become a welder, so to me, all those iron pipes are mostly rubbish. I can hear you thinking: surely scrap metal is worth something? Hmm, in the Netherlands, yes. Here, rather less.
When we bought a ride-on mower, the seller came over to check whether the machine could access the land. He spotted the scrap metal and knew someone who could collect it.
That “someone” has now turned up with a small truck about eight times, I think. On his first visit, he said, “Oh, I thought the village fuel station would be open, but it’s closed. Have you got any diesel?”
I had a jerrycan with about seven litres left in it and thought: oh well, I’m just glad to see the scrap go.
WRONG! COMPLETELY AND UTTERLY WRONG.
The man turns out to be a professional wheeler-dealer. Every time he visits, he has something else to sell. I’m not taking the bait: I’m trying to get rid of junk, not buy more of it. Or he casually asks whether I have any more diesel, because prices have gone up. Really? You don’t say.
It reminds me of our family holidays when I was younger. Whenever we visited a city, I saw homeless people. My mother saw people having a little rest. This time, I was the one looking at things through rose-tinted glasses…
After I said no again on his last visit, he never came back. Perhaps I made myself a little too clear…?
On the subject of plans becoming reality: we’ve registered with the local council. Here, too, you simply fill in a form and send it off. But unlike in the Netherlands, you then hear nothing. Until the police suddenly drive onto your property…
Why are the police coming up the drive? Back in the Netherlands, fair enough. But I have different colleagues here…
A rather imposing lady from the Polizia Municipale had come to check whether we were actually living in the house. Our names were formally read out and neatly ticked off. No further checks, but still. We’d heard that this step was part of the process. Now to see when we hear something.
And yes… we have hot water again! There was a bomb lurking in our cellar: some mysterious contraption that was supposed to produce heat. But it produced nothing. Well, nothing but trouble… So we’ve switched to a boiler running on plain old gas. And this week, it was finally connected.
I felt like some sort of Wim Hof standing under that cold shower. But honestly, I don’t want to be Wim Hof. I enjoy a lovely warm shower. It’s at moments like these that you learn to appreciate things again and realise that even hot water can be a cause for celebration.
Early this morning, I was sitting with my coffee, enjoying the peace across the fields. In the distance, the sound of a crawler tractor. A familiar sound around here. It seems to be getting closer. After a good ten minutes, I decide to investigate.
Up from the valley comes a proper vintage bulldozer. Across my neighbour’s land, I should add. As it gets closer, I spot someone waving from the cab… It’s Daniel, my adviser, agricultural contractor and the man I can always count on. He’s bringing the bulldozer so we can start work on the new olive grove.
Yes, taking the road would have taken longer, so they’ve come across a few fields instead. It’s Sunday, after all. In Italy, Sunday really is still a day of rest. Nobody expects a bulldozer to come quietly trundling past. Simple and effective.
Enjoy your Sunday. We certainly are!