We met in the notary's office to sign the final documents. The notary serves in an official capacity as a neutral party to facilitate the transaction. She ensures that all parties understand and accept the transaction's terms, certifies the transaction's legitimacy, completes the required documentation and, very importantly, makes sure that all parties pay the various taxes.
With my bank drafts in hand, I arrived at the notary's office where a secretary ushered me into a conference room to meet my translator. We were soon joined by the 95-year-old owner's daughter and son-in-law, who represented her with a power of attorney, along with the estate agent, the architect serving as “technical advisor” to certify the official title and registration documents, and the notary herself.
We had assembled to sign two main documents: the deed of sale itself and the mortgage deed. The process requires that the notary read the ten page deed of sale in its entirety out loud to us. The translator had prepared an English translation for me, and we followed along as the notary read in Italian. As the reading progressed, we stopped periodically to discuss certain points (apparently it was important that the document correctly identify the vendor as a housewife rather than a pensioner) and the notary modified the document in real-time on her computer.
The section that outlined the specific property included in the sale generated the most discussion (and confusion). This purchase does not include simply a house on one a single plot of land; rather the property consists of about four small parcels of land linked together, the house itself and a garage that is part of another house altogether.
As the notary read out each numbered parcel and the technical advisor verified it on the official documentation, we found inconsistencies in the documentation. We spent about twenty minutes clarifying what exactly we were buying and after much discussion, gesticulating and paper shuffling (see previous post) we finally achieved clarity, or at least an acceptable level of ambiguity, and we moved on.
Finally, after an hour of reading, discussing and modifying, the notary pronounced the document complete, printed out a clean, fresh copy that the vendor signed on each page. Now it was my turn, and at this point I committed a major blunder.
When told where to sign, I did – using a blue-ink pen. Horror or horrors. The notary chastised me immediately as my pen slid across the paper leaving the offensive blue markings. Apparently, everyone knows that one can only sign documents with black ink. Duly chastened, I signed the remaining pages in black, and apparently my transgression could be overlooked if it was contained to one page – it was never mentioned again.
I thought that we had finished at that point, but we still had to go through the same process for the twenty-four page mortgage deed. This document required less discussion, but it was the notary's responsibility to ensure that I had a full understanding the mortgage contract. This process took another 45 minutes
Finally, in a flurry of activity, everyone stood up, checks changed hands and we finished. All of a sudden, it was done.
I left, dazed, confused and with a significantly lighter wallet. But we now own the house!
Friday 29 February 2008
Wednesday 27 February 2008
Closing the Deal, Part 2
Before signing the papers to close on the property, I visited the local bank to finalise the opening of my account and get the numerous bank drafts that I would need to hand over at the signing.
The process for setting up an account in Italy is not greatly different from doing so in the US or the UK, with one notable exception: Italian bankers possess an impressive array of rubber stamps, which they use with great enthusiasm at various points on dozens of documents.
An interesting dynamic, however, emerges in the process, one that often appears during complex (and often not-so-complex) interactions with Italians. I am not yet fluent in Italian (in fact, sometimes I can barely understand the language at all), but despite the language barrier, I have noticed a particular ritual occur in Italian transactions, even when there is no actual negotiation involved (like opening a bank account, for example).
The first person will make a request or a statement. In response, the counterparty will frown, perhaps make a "hmmmm" sound, and then launch into a sometimes impassioned, but often measured explanation of how difficult this will be, that it most likely cannot be done (impossible!) and certainly not within the time frame suggested.
An intense, but cordial, exchange follows for a few minutes, usually rich with repetition and gesticulation. Finally, as if they have reached an unspoken time limit, the parties miraculously agree. "OK, va bene," and it's done. Problem solved. On to the next item, where the process repeats itself.
You need to access the account this morning, today? I don't think we can do that. Four bank drafts by this afternoon? Impossible! Your address is in London? Hmmmm. You need internet access? We will need the special documents to be signed by the dirigente, and he is only here for one hour.
Watch carefully, and you will see this interaction play itself out repeatedly in Italy: in restaurants, at shops, at airports, and especially in banks and government offices. Nothing is simple or easy, but eventually, everything gets done.
In the end, we accomplished my banking tasks in about an hour. With the invaluable help of a translator to smooth the process, I signed a flurry of documents (stamp, stamp, stamp. . ), met the dirigente, got my bank card and secured the drafts to pay for the house.
So armed with my freshly minted drafts, I left the bank for the Notario's office to close the deal.
The process for setting up an account in Italy is not greatly different from doing so in the US or the UK, with one notable exception: Italian bankers possess an impressive array of rubber stamps, which they use with great enthusiasm at various points on dozens of documents.
An interesting dynamic, however, emerges in the process, one that often appears during complex (and often not-so-complex) interactions with Italians. I am not yet fluent in Italian (in fact, sometimes I can barely understand the language at all), but despite the language barrier, I have noticed a particular ritual occur in Italian transactions, even when there is no actual negotiation involved (like opening a bank account, for example).
The first person will make a request or a statement. In response, the counterparty will frown, perhaps make a "hmmmm" sound, and then launch into a sometimes impassioned, but often measured explanation of how difficult this will be, that it most likely cannot be done (impossible!) and certainly not within the time frame suggested.
An intense, but cordial, exchange follows for a few minutes, usually rich with repetition and gesticulation. Finally, as if they have reached an unspoken time limit, the parties miraculously agree. "OK, va bene," and it's done. Problem solved. On to the next item, where the process repeats itself.
You need to access the account this morning, today? I don't think we can do that. Four bank drafts by this afternoon? Impossible! Your address is in London? Hmmmm. You need internet access? We will need the special documents to be signed by the dirigente, and he is only here for one hour.
Watch carefully, and you will see this interaction play itself out repeatedly in Italy: in restaurants, at shops, at airports, and especially in banks and government offices. Nothing is simple or easy, but eventually, everything gets done.
In the end, we accomplished my banking tasks in about an hour. With the invaluable help of a translator to smooth the process, I signed a flurry of documents (stamp, stamp, stamp. . ), met the dirigente, got my bank card and secured the drafts to pay for the house.
So armed with my freshly minted drafts, I left the bank for the Notario's office to close the deal.
Thursday 21 February 2008
Closing is Complete
All did not go according to plan on Monday. I left for Stansted airport before dawn at 5:00 AM so that I would arrive in Bagni di Lucca in time to visit the bank to sign papers and get the bank drafts required for the closing scheduled for 4:30 that afternoon. I also planned to visit the house to review the renovation work we may want done with the woman who will manage the work locally for us. Ah, the best laid plans. . .
I arrived at the airport to find it shrouded in fog – not a good sign, and after an hour's delay, they finally cancelled the flight. A mad dash back to the terminal followed, where a mob, formed from the diaspora of multiple cancelled flights, milled impatiently waiting to re-book. A quick survey of the situation told me that my best options lay elsewhere.
I caught the express train back to London, hoping to reach Gatwick airport in time to catch a later flight, and also hoping that my travel agent could find one, which she promptly did. Two trains and two tube rides later, I was on a plane to Pisa, but not in time to make the closing. Luckily, the estate agent had rearranged everything for Tuesday (thankfully everyone was available) and equally fortunately, my schedule allowed me to stay another day to get it done.
So, after twelve hours of travelling, I arrived at Roberto's hotel in time for a good night's rest before the activities now planned for Tuesday. In the end, everything on Tuesday went smoothly, although the process proved convoluted, long, sometimes amusing and always uniquely Italian. I will save that story for the next post, but for now, the villa is officially ours!
I arrived at the airport to find it shrouded in fog – not a good sign, and after an hour's delay, they finally cancelled the flight. A mad dash back to the terminal followed, where a mob, formed from the diaspora of multiple cancelled flights, milled impatiently waiting to re-book. A quick survey of the situation told me that my best options lay elsewhere.
I caught the express train back to London, hoping to reach Gatwick airport in time to catch a later flight, and also hoping that my travel agent could find one, which she promptly did. Two trains and two tube rides later, I was on a plane to Pisa, but not in time to make the closing. Luckily, the estate agent had rearranged everything for Tuesday (thankfully everyone was available) and equally fortunately, my schedule allowed me to stay another day to get it done.
So, after twelve hours of travelling, I arrived at Roberto's hotel in time for a good night's rest before the activities now planned for Tuesday. In the end, everything on Tuesday went smoothly, although the process proved convoluted, long, sometimes amusing and always uniquely Italian. I will save that story for the next post, but for now, the villa is officially ours!
Saturday 16 February 2008
Ready to Go
Monday is the big day. We have solved the problems, although I think we compromised a bit too much (caved, actually), and completed the paperwork. I am flying to Italy Monday morning to sign the papers and hand over a boatload of money. Then the house will be ours (well, and mostly the bank's)!
As I said before, now the fun part starts, although I guess we should do something about that roof first.
As I said before, now the fun part starts, although I guess we should do something about that roof first.
Saturday 9 February 2008
A Bump in the Road
Things had been progressing smoothly until a couple of days ago. We have sorted out all of the paperwork set a date to sign the final contracts. Unfortunately, the survey of the property has uncovered some previously unkown problems with the roof: it's not actually waterproof! Nothing that cannot be fixed, but a costly problem that changes our perspective on the financial aspect of the transaction.
We have now resumed negotiations with the vendor to solve this problem and reach an agreement that satisfies everyone. I am confident that we can resolve this, and while I knew we would experience complications along the way, this development is still disappointing. We would hate to be forced to walk away now.
We have now resumed negotiations with the vendor to solve this problem and reach an agreement that satisfies everyone. I am confident that we can resolve this, and while I knew we would experience complications along the way, this development is still disappointing. We would hate to be forced to walk away now.
Saturday 2 February 2008
The Devil's Bridge
I remember unexpectedly seeing the famous Ponte della Maddalena, also known as the Ponte del Diavolo (the Devil's Bridge), the first time we drove from Pisa to Bagni di Lucca. We immediately recognised this unique and beautiful landmark, originally built around 1100, from its appearance on a British TV property show about the area, but we had not known exactly where it was.
The bridge, notable for its unusual asymmetric arches, spans the river Serchio only a few kilometres from Bagni di Lucca in Borgo a Mozzano.
The bridge, notable for its unusual asymmetric arches, spans the river Serchio only a few kilometres from Bagni di Lucca in Borgo a Mozzano.
Legend has it that when the master mason building the bridge fell behind schedule, he made a pact with the Devil to finish the bridge in one night in exchange for the soul of whomever crossed it first. After the builder finished the bridge, he outsmarted the Devil by sending a pig across the bridge first, thus defeating the Devil and sending him back into the depths of the river.
The Devil has not been seen in the area since.
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