Hello, everyone! Oh yes, I know, I disappeared for a while, but I have a good excuse: the move! We packed our beautiful suitcases and moved to Ferrara after almost 4 years in Germany. A quite radical change given the completely different rhythms here. A few days ago I finally opened the last box and now we have some sort of organization in our new apartment. That was hard work! Houses in Germany are huge, really, and the rents are low, at least where we lived, so we had a semi-detached house with a very big garden (a pond with small fish included, I’m not kidding!), whereas here we live in a 70 m² flat (we’re three: me, my husband Andrea and our little girl, Carlotta Anna, 4 and a half years old). It is obvious that in the house in Gangelt (the little town where we lived) we comfortably used all the extra space there (although at the beginning we promised not to do so; sailor's promise) and here it hasn’t been easy at all to find the place for all our things, having available about half of what we used to have. Needless to say, our garage is full of stuff up to the ceiling and not even a pin could fit in there, even if we had Harry Potter’s magic wand...Never mind. We managed to squeeze our bikes in there, fortunately. We need them, come on, we're in the city of bikes, we have to fit in, don’t we?
I was also surprised to have managed to stay calm despite several very annoying issues such as: a broken fridge. Tatan! The flat was empty, the landlord only left the kitchen unit and the day we were supposed to sleep there for the first time we realized that the fridge did not cool down, although it had been switched on for so many hours. And of course the milk has gone bad too! Okay, what should we have done? We stayed three days without a refrigerator (an immense nuisance: you do not notice how much you need something until it doesn’t work) and then the owner brought in a new one that has found its place in the middle of the room behind the sofa. It makes me laugh every time I sit and watch TV with the noise of the fridge behind my head. It tumbles like a belly in the grip of a colitis attack. And I wish this was it! But it isn't. Our washing machine did not want to start again after the move. It didn’t like Ferrara’s air, too humid. And there you go! After many days spent in a B & B we had the laundry basket so full that even moving it half a centimeter could cause a back strain. So, we rushed to buy a new washing machine, of course ... And then, last but not least, the boiler did not work. If I didn’t swear during the move, I definately did during my first shower. The water came out boiling (I could have cooked pasta inside the tub, seriously) icy cold, boiling again and then even colder, just to allow me to cool off a little, I supose, on and off. A real joy! And there are those who pay to do it at the spa, and I who had it for free at home. I did this Kneipp path at the Chianciano spa once before and they heard me screaming from the pools. No, thanks. This Kneipp guy probably had a wet suit instead of a layer of skin, but I do not and for me it was torture. And after these nice adventures I continued to remain imperturbable, with a little effort, clearly.
But, let's be honest... There were moments when I would have thrown the boxes, still full, out the window to avoid tiding up. I threw away so many things! What they say is a bit true: moving somewhere else is like having to endure a fire. But I personally went through a fire when I lived in a rented room in London and I assure you that there is a huge difference. Seeing your belongings and the souvenirs of a lifetime crumbling between your hands and discovering that everything you've managed to save will smell like smoke for years to come is not exactly the same as choosing consciously and calmly what to keep and what not to. So this "urban legend" is only half correct. And anyway, the fact remains that I am a serial accumulator. I admit it. And I have gone worse since I had enough space to allow that. For 7 years I lived in tiny bedrooms in England and moved from one house to another with only a couple of suitcases, so I was forced to carry with me only the bare minimum. This need has created a monster! I do not throw anything away ... or at least until the move.
I donated clothes that I did not even remember having. Some I kept in the hope of being able to dispose of the bacon (not the one from pork, I speak about the one that is fondly attached to my waistline since my pregnancy) and to be able to wear them again. Yes, no, bye! And I stop talking about this now, tI'd have too much to say about this…
Anyway, I cut to the chase: at the moment everything we need fits inside our flat and now I can use my time to do what I love! Finally...
Lately I also managed to publish my book on Kobo and I'm proud of this because, despite being very clumsy and technologically impeded, I managed to create an epub file (miracles happen sometimes!) and to follow the whole process to make it available. Now I just have to translate “I Destinatari” into English (which I should not do, you must always translate into your mother tongue, but seeking the help of a professional would cost me a little fortune – about € 3000!) and write the next book! I cannot wait to start, I miss my characters!
I say goodbye for today. A big hug to everyone.
P.S. With Google Analytics I see that my articles are read (yes, I can see you!) and I have a large number of visitors, so why doesn’t anybody leave me a comment? Come on! Do not make me feel like a mad woman that talks by herself ... (actually, I do it all the time so I'm already a mad woman, it's not all your fault).
P.S.S. How did your moving go? Did it go like mine? I hope not…