In the small Tuscan village of Bagnone, I found my way to someone who could show me available properties. His name was Maurizio, and he was lovely. Tall, dark and handsome Italian man. Married (of course…but more later on his charming wife). And three adorable kids whom I have come to love.
After looking at some properties inside the village (condos and the like), we drove up to the front of a freestanding home and parked. I looked at the house and then looked at him. He managed a weak smile. The house had been vacant for years. It was dirty and dilapidated. He opened the front door, and I stepped inside. It was dark and cold. It sounds like Under the Tuscan Sun but, while I was standing in the entryway, a bat (apparently a resident) nearly sideswiped my head. For real!
I immediately turned around and ran back out the front door and into the street, screeching and flailing my hands in my hair. Maurizio thought it was hilarious. Silly American woman!
But after the shock wore off, I felt like something was calling me back inside. Maybe it was the feeling that this house was quietly asking for some attention. To be revived and restored. And loved again. Whatever it was, it drew me back in. And, for as disastrous as it was on the inside (oh just you wait and see), as soon as he threw open the huge windows & shutters and sunlight came pouring in, I was tempted to make it mine.
