Letting Go

When Saturday finally arrived, it was time to meet Ms. M., the owner of the historic old farm near the B&B we'd stayed at during my first visit to Slovenia. The photos Running Man (RM) had taken showed a lovely old property with possibility. Ms. M. still wasn't even sure she wanted to sell the place, but I was thrilled she was willing consider the possibility.

Our drive took us from the asphalt road that runs through Podsabotin, up a narrow gravel road, past the Stanjel B&B, high above the vineyards of Goriska Brda. RM turned the car onto a gravel road that was in rough condition but passable. There it was, to the right and slightly below the drive. I recognized it from RM's photos. Ms. M. was already there and after introductions, she started to walk us around the place.

With the exception of part of the house in the compound, the large, old, two-story stone barns were in ruins. As we looked into each one, we could see that the walls were still sound but the timber beams would need to be replaced, along with all of the tile roofs. Basically, the shells could remain and all else would need to be rebuilt. But the space was enormous. Where Trebusa could offer only three guestrooms and two bathrooms, this place could easily house six guestrooms, each with a private bathroom in two of the three attached barns. The third barn, attached directly to the house, could be opened into the house to create an expansive kitchen and dining area. The separate little house, which had served as an Italian general's headquarters during World War I, could offer a seventh guestroom.

We could not go inside the house itself because Ms. M., didn't want to violate the privacy of the woman living there. But she told us there were only two finished rooms inside and little else. Although the day was sunny and warm, where the farm sat was cool and lush. The courtyard in the center was charming and overgrown, but I could see guests entering under the stone archway to sit in the courtyard or to go back to their rooms. 

Ms. M. had inherited the property from her grandparents and had a lot of fond memories of times spent there. A cousin came from time to time to help her with upkeep which basically involved mowing the main areas. Still, I could see what had been there before, including two vegetable gardens, hayfields, an orchard and acres of timber. I certainly understood how difficult it would be for Ms. M. to let go of this place. It wasn't just beautiful. It felt special. I knew too well how hard it is to let go of something so personal and meaningful.

She asked RM what we would do with the property and was pleased that I wanted to maintain the historic sense of it, restoring it to a new purpose without compromising its integrity. I also assured her that I was quite willing to work around the tenant, a refugee from the war that dissolved the Yugoslav Republic. Ms. M. was encouraging the tenant to move to town where she could access things more easily, but it might take time before she would actually relocate. 

Just past the cluster of buildings, someone had built a rather modern weekend home. It was precisely the kind of thing that Ms. M. didn't want to see happen to her property. The house was a blemish to the otherwise old, tranquil and secluded farm. It was odd that in such a large space of open terrain, people had placed this house so near the original. But I would have only one part-time neighbor to deal with if I were to buy this place.

There were other issues with the farm, including its lack of a septic system and reliance upon a cistern for its water supply, which often had to be trucked in during dry periods. Ms. M. said there might be a possibility of running the water and sewage lines up from Podsabotin but that would be done at my expense. The road needed work as well and she was doubtful the neighbor would help. 

While I could envision what this place could look like, I could also envision what it would cost. But Ms. M. was a wild card. She said that money from the sale of the farm wasn't important to her. If she sold it, she was more interested in who would buy it and what they would do with it.

There are castles in Slovenia that one can purchase for a symbolic single Euro; however, the purchaser has to be able to put the millions into it required to restore it with a nod to history. Would Ms. M. consider selling her property for a song to a buyer who would restore it appropriately? Even so, what would it all cost to do?

RM and I left, agreeing that we would talk again soon with Ms. M. She said she had a lot to think about, and I had a lot more properties to see.