Today was subcontractor day. The parade started at 9 with one Signor Berri, the apologetic painter who looked a bit like Eddie Garcia. I told him I wanted the entire inside painted and he walked around with a pained expression complaining how much it would cost me. He has a great sense of humor and really tried to help me out by throwing in the occasional German word – unfortunately they were generally words I knew in Italian. He did help me, however, to understand that the words for “roof” and “breasts” were very similar. Now only if I could remember which was which when I need the roof fixed.
Pretty soon thereafter, Signor Spinella appeared. Well, actually, he drove by the house about 4 times. I don’t know if he was looking for parking or what. Most people simply park in front of the garage – but who am I to advise a Ticinese on Ticinese customs? By the fifth pass I was waiting for him from the balcony and yelled out “Halto, sono qui!” I have no idea what I’m saying about 75% of the time but since their responses seem to match what I say I guess I’m close to right or we’re all deluded in the same direction – and isn’t that what language is anyway? First off, Spinella doesn’t do hardwood floors or tiles – I need other folks for that. But he had numbers. So I told him about how we wanted to take down the wall between the kitchen and living room and put in a counter and bar. He’d done the work chez Imbaumgarten so we understood what we wanted to do. Once we were talking about reinforcing the ceiling (I have, again, no idea how I am talking to people about “reinforcing the ceiling” in Italian), I thought about the doors to the balcony. Here we have this lovely view of the lake and both the living rooms and master bedrooms have relatively small swinging glass doors. I mean the doors are normal sized, but they make up a small fraction of the big wall, behind which is the view. When we first saw La Perla, Vikas and I discussed widening these doors – and potentially the windows in the 2nd bedrooms. I had it on my list under the two year timeline. But, like everything else, it’s become rather topsy turvy. I’m looking at all the big structural expensive stuff first and the relatively little stuff like furniture later. The middle apartment is currently such a beautiful blank slate. Once I fill it with crazy furniture and such, it’ll be so much harder to work in. Anyway, Spinella will come by on Saturday with his sons to measure things and write up an offer. He looked at his watch and excused himself, shyly saying that his wife was expecting him for lunch. These Europeans! Do they practice this cute stuff or does it come naturally?
For example, as soon as someone enters an apartment they say “con permesso?” If I don’t say “prego,” they wait there. When you have a main house and three apartments, that’s a lot of pregos! In fact, one contractor went to the top unit when I was downstairs because he had to get a tool and I heard him mutter “con permesso” even though no one was there! Where do they come up with these things? Is it all part of the same impulse to paint cherubs in churches and put up ballustrada for no reason other than that they look nice?
I called the people Spinella (not to be confused with Spinderella of Salt n’ Pepa fame – because I think a lot of people do, and, frankly, it seems to weigh heavily on Signor Spinella who is not black, female, nor a rapper or spinner). I also called someone Sylvia had recommended. I asked him if he could help with the awning and installing the shower curtain since she had described him as a type of handyman. I’m not sure exactly what he said, but I don’t think he was interested. But he did recommend a Mauro Gaggetta for the tenda de sole (awning), whom I called. I didn’t really understand him either but that he would come by tomorrow.
Around 16.00, Signor Landoni appeared. I’m not sure whether Berri or Spinella sent him since both of them had recommended him. Nevertheless, there he was and I had to memorize the word “piastrelle” in a hurry because it means tiles. He measured the kitchens, bathrooms, and balconies in order to make his offer. He figured out how make the water on the balcony go into a drainpipe. The tiles in the bathroom and kitchen confuse me a bit, however. They should probably match the tiles currently on the walls but I’m not too sold on those tiles and I can’t replace them now not yet having decided what appliances to get. In fact, I had decided to hold off on the appliances. The other solution, of course, is to extend the wood floor into the kitchen and bathroom, but I’m not sure that’s good for floors. I’ll probably get some fairly neutral whitish tiles for the floors and it’ll be neutral enough to blend with the existing tiles.
Finally it seemed I’d have some peace so I set about clearing up the dead tree from the lawn. The phone rang and it was Signor P, my absent neighbor. Long time fans of the La Perla process might remember him as the man who owns the land on three sides of La Perla, who was born in the house next door, who was excited I was from California like James Dean and who cried at how I manage without hands. I’d been calling him for a number of days with no success and here he was calling back. He said he still had interest in the old house (La Mossana), but I had noticed the Se Vendere sign was down. He mentioned still having problems within the family about the house and land (as before) and that he still sought to sell the house and land together. I think I can still make a good argument that La Perla needs that bit of land between La Perla and Via Vairano more than the future owner of La Mossana would. But today wasn’t the time for that argument as he seemed to have forgotten that I don’t speak Italian and our whole conversation was in Italian. It’s amazing how much more direct, specific, and assertive I can get when I can switch to German or English. We set up an appointment to meet next Tuesday. I also mentioned cutting the tree and he remembered having granted me permission in writing to do so – good that he remembered!
After tackling the tree a bit more, I was pooped and could only make dinner and stare at the TV wondering how German TV could be worse than American. I’m convinced that someone will soon come along and Jerry Springerize German TV and make a fortune. It’s bad but not crass and sensationalistic. I’ve seen shows about a rich family having a new house built, a bit about a boy who dives in ponds for golf balls, and a program about a zoo. I think any of these shows would definitely stand improvement if a drunk college girl took off her top or if a lesbian transvestite beat up a black football player while sleeping with his mother.
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