May 13, 2012
“It’s happened,” I emailed family and close friends when I finally bought my dream home in Sicily. “The deed is done!”
My euphoria was the kind of helium-filled joy that you recognize much later as one of those few moments in life when every star in the firmament aligns perfectly and glitters with a rare intensity.
A few days later, in response, an old friend forwarded an email from one of his buddies, a British diplomat in Milan. It read: Anyone buying property in Italy needs psychological counseling. I send my deepest sympathies to the lady. If it is not too late, she should withdraw and run—not walk—as far away as she can from this country.
Talk about bursting my balloon…