Caroline Peet
We have now been living in our new place for exactly a month. Finally, that little house in the countryside in the south with a large plot of land. That is what we came to Italy for 4,5 years ago! Back then, however, we made the wrong choice by buying a house in a village.
We went for convenience at the time because we were worn down by the house search, a stay in a holiday home, and the nasty aftermath of selling our house in the Netherlands.
Our first house in Italy was a choice for convenience. We could move right in, and it was connected to all utilities. We only had to apply a lick of paint to the walls and window frames here and there, and it was finished.
Besides, we had a huge garden for the dogs, so what more could we want? I still remember that I didn't have a good feeling about the house from the very first moment. But you think: once my furniture is in place and the candles are lit, it will be cozy.
Well, not really. In the years that followed, I tried everything. From new sofas to overhauling the kitchen, nothing helped. It didn't feel like home, and I noticed that I was running away more and more.
I kept walking around with that knot in my stomach and felt utterly miserable when I drove back into the street. My husband didn't have that at first, so I thought it was just me.
I struggled with the emigration and the fact that I no longer had a working life. So you try everything about it—meditation, seeking distraction—but no, it didn't make me feel happy.
Moreover, I felt that I was changing as a person and that the zest for life was draining away a bit. Until one day we had to deal with a back neighbor who wanted to file a lawsuit regarding a wall we had lowered.
That became the turning point for my husband, and overnight we decided to put the house up for sale. We couldn't go on like this anymore; it was stressful every day and neither of us was cheerful anymore.
Our house was sold within 3 weeks. Fortunately, we had negotiated that we would have 6 months to look for another house. This was partly prompted by our first search, now almost 5 years ago.
But imagine our surprise! Within a month, we had found an old cottage in the countryside that needed renovating. I remember walking around that house from day one and immediately feeling happy.
A lot still needed to be done to it, because it hadn't been looked after for the last few years. We could live in it already, but it certainly wasn't perfect. No kitchen, just a countertop with a sink.
Not connected to the gas, and the water had to come from the ground. There was an electricity connection, but we weren't sure if it worked. And let's not even talk about the shower, the toilet, and other facilities.
But still, none of that bothered us, because the location and the house felt right. We had the money to renovate, so we made the decision quickly. We were subsequently disappointed that we had to wait another 5 months, but that did give us the time to make plans and research how we wanted to shape the renovation.
You soon find out that quite a bit more needed to be done than expected and that permits had to be applied for everywhere. But neither of us had any idea how to go about it.
We also got a bit stuck on how we wanted to design the layout of our new house, because in its original form, the layout wasn't very practical. Fortunately, our kitchen specialist put us in touch with a engineers, a kind of architect.
The moment she walked into our new house and immediately started rearranging the layout, a weight was lifted off our shoulders. She was going to draw up a plan and arrange everything from A to Z, including permits. The plans are now in place, and several meetings have already taken place.
The renovation is going to start in March and will last 6 months. During those 6 months, we will be camping out in the garage, but somehow that doesn't bother me. This is the place.
And the fact that I can't flush the toilet properly at the moment, have no heating or kitchen, and geckos are crawling on the walls—I absolutely cannot let any of that bother me.
Living in the new house is incomparable to the place where we lived before. I get up cheerfully again in the morning, walk the dogs across the land, and—if it has rained—sink into the mud with my boots.
No more knot in my stomach when I drive into the street. No more social control, and we can finally experience the feeling of freedom. And yes, there is still a lot to be done, but I already feel rich and proud of us for taking this step.
We have moved from a very large, comfortable house to a much smaller house in the countryside, without any comforts. Many of the things we have collected over the past few years are heading back to the thrift store. In terms of clothing, we are now walking around in thick sweaters, sweatpants, and rubber boots.
I’m not going to the nail stylist anymore; the hairdresser remains the only luxury on my agenda. And the coming months are going to be quite a struggle and require a lot of patience from me. My husband is already taking this into account because I am quite impatient and a perfectionist.
But then hopefully we finally have the house we had in mind when we emigrated. And flushing the toilet with the bucket every now and then already feels more like home than the previous residence, where I was actually quite unhappy. I hadn't expected (though secretly hoped) that a new place would make such a difference.
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