At night there could be stars | above the square in Avrigue | to help you find the way | of your thoughts

Claudio Nobbio, the poet of Avrigue (Apricale)

A restoration. In Italian, meters and euros. And from a continent away. Recalling disastrous tales of expat real estate fiascos, we worried aloud that we might be bumbling toward a foolish decision.

Or was bella fortuna blowing us a kiss?

It was the eleventh hour of our initial stay in Apricale. We’d gorged on yet another food-as-love Italian dinner, tidied Casa degli Angeli, packed our checked bags and propped them by the door. Our morning departure would come early. We texted our appreciation to our hostess and, knowing she had personal experience with and connections for renovating in the village, expressed that we would like to learn of future available properties. 

Her reply was swift.

Arturo has a property he would like to show you. Can you meet in five minutes?

And what a property it was. Is. Will be.

Our heads were spinning slot machines with euro signs in the tumblers. We’d given a local realtor an uninformed budgetary number. Few showings in, we doubled that number. And this space indicated tripling. But the guy. Arturo, contractor and renovator extraordinaire, transcended currencies. We wondered if we’d struck gold in Arturo.

We flew home with our heads in the clouds.

By night we dreamt of Apricale.

And by day we flirted with a decision.

We reached out to a fellow American for whom Arturo had been concierge and contractor for a drop-dead stunner of a property. We simply haven’t done a lot of practical research. We’d like to think we’ve miraculously stumbled into what might suit us perfectly well—a relaxed, cost-effective fairytale spot from which we can enjoy the Italian and French coastlines, and venture about Europe. And perhaps we’ve found a trustworthy renovator who is equally artist and craftsman.

The reply was swift. Bottom line: YES, you have miraculously stumbled into something and someone truly special. I’ve had sufficient time to stress test all the assumptions I had going in; the open questions, hopes and fears and then some. I can tell you that everything holds up to scrutiny.

We scheduled our next trip.

Somewhere in Apricale, under its terracotta roof, a village house with terrace, tub and tranquility awaits. A fairytale place to depart from and return to as we linger about Liguria, Italy…just the two of us.

Mary Tennant, September 2017

Those anticipatory words prophesied far more than we knew. 

Robert and I were flying into Nice, France with our exploratory sights set on the Nervia Valley in Liguria, Italy. We’d selected the medieval village of Apricale as our home base for forays about the Italian Riviera and hinterland simply because online holiday rental Casa degli Angeli stood out from so many others; beautiful and very well-appointed. I was already dreaming of a candlelit arrival soak in its clawfoot tub, set in the master bedroom against an ancient stone wall that whispered of former lives well-lived. Of generational bella vita.

We’d embarked like naïve and crushing teenagers on a mid-life adventure to explore the possibility of owning a home in beloved Italy. We’d booked with a local realtor. We’d armed ourselves with a note-taking journal. Each day we followed the sun-dappled coast or verdant valleys, guided by roads that drizzled the mountainsides, linking perilously-perched medieval villages with souls dating back centuries. I begged a terrified “toot-toot” at single-lane blind hairpins, reminding Robert to signal our approach to Italians careening fearlessly toward places-to-be.

We crossed off possible home-buying locations on the torn-off portion of a cheesy tourist’s map with bold, decisive X’s.

Ventimiglia

Bordighera

Ospedaletti

San Remo

The coast

The villages had captured our imaginations and promised enough square meters within budget to generously accommodate family and friends.

Perinaldo

Castel Vittorio

Pigna

Rochetta Nervina

Isolabona

Dolceacqua

Apricale

Apricale. From Apricus. Meaning exposed to the sun. And that other tantalizing village house I’d unknowingly prophesied. South-facing, easy-to-access, near piazza and parking, with a cellar, chapel and attic that teased possibilities. A specific address. Awaiting complete restoration.

Find Casa degli Angeli at http://www.apricuslocanda.com.