Destiny

The minute I walked in, I knew I wanted it.  I had to have it.  It was just like being in a Tuscan villa, and the courtyard reminded me of Valencia, Spain.  This jewel in the middle of a busy street in Buenos Aires had to be mine to live in for two months.  I wanted it, I needed it, it was mine, I stamped it with my heart within the first five minutes.  That day I found out that the owner’s father is from Milan, while his friend who showed me the place, is the son of a man from Arezzo (Tuscany!).   We bonded.

Today I, along with a fellow blogger who has decided to stay a bit, moved in after a breakfast surrounded by our suitcases and a few strange looks in a cafe.  She and I will be the only people here, hopefully.

While drinking mate’ with the owner this afternoon, I mentioned how the house reminded me not only of Tuscany mixed with Spain, but also of my father.  The owner purchased this colonial home a month ago, and has been doing some work on it.  There is still some construction dust lying around, and outside is his ladder.  I told him that my father, grandfather and great-grandfather were all in construction, and that I grew up around hammers and nails and dust and plywood.  I like going into hardware stores because I like the way they smell.  It brings back good childhood memories.  I, a daughter of construction, enjoyed the old feel of this home combined with the sense of new life brought by the work he has been doing on it.

Well, not only does the owner’s family also hail from Italy, but he’s a carpenter and has been building his own house in Tigre.

There you go.

Pictures will follow once I have internet access at home.  (Writing from a locutorio).