#13 Ma che bella questa casa mia (English)

A little more than a week ago – on Saturday morning – something scared me properly. I woke up, prepared myself a nice breakfast and greeted Alessandro, my flatmate, with an enthusiastic Buongiorno! We had a little chat and he informed about my house search. Eh? Of course, I’d known since forever already that I have to leave this house around the first of March but in my mind that was still ages away. Five weeks actually, I realised when I hastily opened the calendar app on my phone. Pretty soon if you’ve not undertaken any action so far. The Queen of Last-Minute was striking again…

Plus, nowadays I sip my white wine from a classy, bell-shaped glass – but not before having sniffed it professionally of course – to then make a comment about the ‘dry but a sweet taste and a hint of almond blossom’. Una prima donna, right?

Of course, there was drama instantly (welcome to my life), because this was simply my house, and I actually didn’t want to leave at all. My own sweet place where I had come home again in Italy, and where my renewed Roman life had slowly evolved. In Monteverde Vecchio, southwest of the city center. A neighbourhood that almost couldn’t have been further away from the neighbourhood in which I lived four years ago: Trieste, northeast of the city center. And I actually liked that, as I didn’t want my second Roman adventure to be a copy of the first. Back then, I studied at University and my whole life was filled with lectures, by the international student association organised trips to Naples, Toscane and Venice, exam weeks, many parties (before a party we would always come together at Piazza Bologna bringing a bottle of white wine each, that we would sip straight from the bottle with a straw. Oh, those finest Italian pleasures), and drinking coffee in the sun at the university bar. Now, I’m independent and I completely schedule my own days, and the amount of times I’ve been in a club since October is close to zero (which I don’t seem to mind at all), but do I – thank God – not suffer from exam stress any longer. Plus, nowadays I sip my white wine from a classy, bell-shaped glass – but not before having sniffed it professionally of course – to then make a comment about the ‘dry but sweet taste and a hint of almond blossom’. Una prima donna, right? 

Purely panicking I called an Italian friend with a huge network “you hàve to help me out, soon I’ll be homeless!”

Anyway, I experienced some serious stress about my future living situation and purely panicking I called an Italian friend with a huge network “you hàve to help me out, soon I’ll be homeless!”, I opened Facebook and I started replying to every house-advertisement that seemed not too shabby. Half an hour later, I realised this was not the right approach at all. I was kind of dreading this search for a while already and had therefore been procrastinating it. Now, the moment had arrived I really had to face the search and with the thought in my head that ‘I HAVE TO find something’ I had started. If I’ve learned one lesson in life, it’s surely that this approach of trying to force things to work out for you, never works. Therefore, I shifted my approach rigorously. I created a new note on my phone titled: PROJECT Ma Che Bella Questa Casa Mia! (translated: But how beautiful this house of mine) and decided to turn it into one big adventure.

What I can reveal already is that house hunting in Rome can get you much more than just a house

And so far, an adventure is what you could call it! Thanks to my house hunting, I’ve been to very different places last week and – safe to say – I received some interesting offers. What I can reveal already is that house hunting in Rome can get you much more than just a house. A week has passed since the start of my search, so it’s time to make a first overview.

When I came walking towards the lady, she started cheering how happy she was that at least my bellezza (beauty) was at par with the beauty of the apartment that she had designed with an eye for the smallest details

On Saturday morning, I saw an advertisement on Facebook for a gorgeous studio – with a high, authentic ceiling, a brand new marble bathroom, gorgeous light and styled as if it would be published in an interior glossy this week – and I immediately responded. I was number 38 leaving a message in the first hour, but apparently my message caught her attention and the signora asked me to come by to see it that same afternoon. In Italy, your appearance is valued a lot when leaving a good first impression – it tells an Italian who and what you are – so I knew I had to think about it carefully. What impression did I want to make? Of course, very neat (read: I’ll treat the studio very neatly too), chique and classy (read: don’t worry about wild and boozy student parties) and yes – although I don’t like to admit it – not poor (read: I can pay my rent in time). Well, it seemed like I had to make that prima donna inside of me come out again. I opted for my brown (faux) leather jacket, with (faux) fur at the neckline and sleeves (bought that for a tenner back in my hometown), a classy pair of black pants and my new suede boots with heels. The perfect outfit for this occassion, I discovered soon. When I came walking towards the lady, she started cheering how happy she was that at least my bellezza (beauty) was at par with the beauty of the apartment that she had designed with an eye for the smallest details. And she didn’t say too much, in reality the apartment was even more beautiful than the photos could display. It only had one disadvantage: there was no balcony. And in a city as Rome, where the sun shines 10 months of the year, that was one of the few things on my wish list. We had a cup of tea together and she couldn’t stop talking about my classy look. She especially loved my coat, which I surely had bought in Milan, because coats like those you didn’t find easily anywhere else. Smiling modestly, I received her compliments while thinking about my hoody and yoga pants I wear nearly every night. She told me she restores ancient fresco’s as a profession – those stunning paintings covering walls and ceilings of nearly every classic Italian building – and to be completely into classical arts. When I told her I write for a living, her eyes lighted up. She had a website that could desperately use a make-over and she could use some help rewriting her texts. So it was settled quickly: even when I wouldn’t take the studio, we would remain in touch and see if we could start collaborating on her website project. Not bad, right? 

I had not properly entered the place where the drinks took place yet when I heard “Are you Ann, oh my God, you are gorgeous, we’re gonna be a house full of blonds, this is amazing!”

On Tuesday, I went to an event for expats. With a special reason this time, because an American-Italian lady – who had a room available in her house – had sent me a super enthusiastic message over Facebook that I would be her ‘perfect flatmate’. I had not properly entered the place where the drinks took place yet when I heard “Are you Ann, oh my God, you are gorgeous, we’re gonna be a house full of blonds, this is amazing!” and even before looking up who said that, I knew it had to be the American girl. She was lovely, I discovered soon enough. We chatted all night and had a good laugh about our dream (made up right at the spot there) to open a language school in Sicily so we could eat the best cannoli and arancini 365 days a year. I would take care of the marketing and she would do the lessons. And to establish a prestigious reputation we would not accept just anyone. Oh wait, the house! I still haven’t visit it but I do have added a new friend to my Roman friend circle. 

I had not recognized her from her profile photo, but the moment we met, we both had this huge ahaaa-moment. “Hey, but we know each other right?”

On Wednesday, my search continued: a room in a house in the same building as where I had lived four years ago. I texted the girl to arrange the viewing and we agreed on seven o’clock that night. I had not recognized her from her profile photo, but the moment we met, we both had this huge ahaaa-moment. “Hey, but we know each other right?”. Exactly. It happened to be the friend of a friend of mine and last summer we had seen each other at a party. It was fun catching up again and the room – oh my God – had so much light coming in because at one side it gave access to a huge rooftop. A big plus was that my friend lives in that same building too, a big min was that this place is located proper at the other side of the city and thus super far away from the places I have to go to. Because the Roman public transport? Let’s just say you need to have a lot, but I really mean a lòt, of patience. 

We could literally wave at each other from our bedroom windows, the Pope and I

On Thursday, I had a house viewing that a friend of mine had arranged. And, she added proudly, she had managed to negotiate the price down to only 350 euros a month. A spacious room in a gorgeous apartment, with private bathroom and private balcony, situated only meters away from the Vatican. We could literally wave at each other from our bedroom windows, the Pope and I. There was just one tiny detail: to rent out the room for this low price, the lady expected me to regularly look after her daughter of 2,5. I highly doubted if I was up for that, but I decided to go anyway. And I was happy I did, as I met another very nice woman. She appeared to be a plastic surgeon and after an hour drinking coffee, we were still chatting. I noticed she was positive about the idea of me moving in, so right before I left she got a little closer to me and said “Oh, and by the way, speaking about medical stuff like your insurance, don’t worry about that. I’ll take care of all your medical needs. Not to say you need any plastic surgery done, but you know, just in case. I’ll handle it”.

And again, it was nearly dark already when I got home

On Friday, I visited another place, the last place this week. Another friend of the friend who arranged the room close to the Vatican had something available too. This house was in the same street as where I live now, so that was the first big plus. And also this room had a nice balcony. However, pretty quickly I discovered a huge negative aspect: they couldn’t offer me a contract. Although this is a hard requirement for me, I still decided to sit down for a coffee with the guy – a freelance architect – who already lives in the place. I ended up staying for more than an hour. Like me, he had quitted his stable job to realise his dream to have an architect business of his own, so we had plenty of stuff to talk about. And again, it was nearly dark already when I got home. 

And while I was writing down the upsides and downsides of every place I visited, I received a text from the guy of the last house. He really enjoyed my company he said

After this exciting week, I have made an overview of my options so far this weekend. There’s the studio to which I luckily ‘live up’ in terms of my bellezza, but lacks the much-desired balcony. The house of my new American-Italian friend which I actually still have to visit but already seems so much fun. The room with a huge rooftop and a dear friend living in the same building, but which will leave me with lots of stress about the public transport. The room next to the Pope with the toddler to look after, but including free botox and fillers. And while I was writing down the upsides and downsides of every place I visited, I received a text from the guy of the last house. He really enjoyed my company he said, and he invited me to go for a pizza with him anytime soon. Although I was not interested in him in a special way, I guess going for a pizza won’t hurt. So while adding my findings to the note PROJECT Ma Che Bella Questa Casa Mia! on my phone, I wrote down about the last house: EXCLUDED: contract, INCLUDED: pizza date. I haven’t made up my mind so far which house it is going to be, so I guess there’s no better way to end this blog but to say: To Be Continued…