At the End of the Road

In front of me was a panoramic view of pasture, vineyard-covered hillsides and forests. I had stepped out of a house in a village where every house was connected to another and into a place where I felt like there were no neighbors at all.

We were standing on a small gravel road that ran parallel to the house and barn, disappearing around the curve at the end of the house.

I turned right to follow the road and as I reached the curve at the end, the ground fell away to a view down into the flatland of the Vipava Valley with the foothills of the Julian Alps behind it. I was awestruck.

Running Man (RM) looked at me, his mouth and eyes gaping as wide as I'm sure mine were. Neither of us could believe what we were seeing. The real estate agent, Zvonka, just looked at us wearing a huge smile.

I stood silently, taking in the incredible views all around me. I continued to follow the little road that ended soon, behind the vineyard adjacent to the house and near some small fenced-in garden plots. I finally turned around to survey the house and courtyard wall from this side. I was struck by its ancient, simplistic beauty in the midst of such lovely surroundings. I could just imagine what the view must be like from the attic window overlooking the valley. We hadn't been able to see out when we walked through that part of the house because the window was frosted and textured, obscuring any view. That's why seeing the valley now was such a phenomenal surprise to me.

I knew this was the house I had to own. It wasn't the house I'd been dreaming about. It was much, much more. The architecture, the space, the secret garden, the ancient wine cellar, the views, the price, the location of the village -- everything was perfect. And although the interior was dated and needed a total overhaul, it was habitable which meant I could move in right away and not spend money renting something elsewhere while trying to make it livable. 

The three of us walked back through the cellar and up into the courtyard where Zvonka had left her purse. She had another appointment and we needed to get her back to her office. As she checked to make sure everything was locked up, she told RM that this property would sell quickly. She would come back with us tomorrow morning so we could take another look.

I was so excited as we drove back to Lokve but I tried to calm myself. I have this crazy superstition that any time I've ever wanted something too much, I haven't gotten it. After that happened to me a few times in my life, I started taking the opposite approach. I would think the worst so that whatever happened would be better than I had expected. Silly, perhaps. But it kept me from experiencing a lot of disappointment. I subscribe to the saying that if something looks too good to be true, it probably is. This place certainly looked too good to be true.

My challenge was going to be coming up with the down payment, although I didn't know how much or under what terms. I decided to sleep on it but spent a fairly restless night, my mind far too full of dreams and nightmares, hopes and worries to slumber.

We arrived the next morning at Zvonka's office to pick her up. I couldn't wait to return to Goce. Her assistant, Jana, was flustered. Zvonka's boss, she said, had showed up unexpectedly and it had something to do with the property in Goce. My heart sank. As RM and I waited for Zvonka to return, I felt my excitement slowly draining from my soul. RM held my hand while the distracted Jana continued to make small talk in Slovene with him.

Zvonka flew through the glass office door and I could tell by the look on her normally smiling face that she wasn't happy. She nipped off some orders to Jana, made an abrupt statement to RM, then picked up her keys and left as quickly and as violently as she had entered. 

"We're supposed to meet her there," RM said. "Zvonka's riding with her boss."

"What's happening?" I asked, confused by all of the sharp speech I couldn't understand and the universal body language I could.

"I'm not sure, except that her corporate boss wants to see the property."

My legs were wobbly as we climbed into the car and drove to Goce. I found myself feeling like I wanted to cry. I had raised my hopes too high and now, I was going to fall hard.

It was even worse when we arrived because not only was Zvonka there with her boss, but another couple was there with their camera. It was one thing if the boss thought the asking price was too low. I couldn't afford to get into a bidding war with other potential buyers. I would lose. That was the only thing I was absolutely sure of.

The four of us walked into the courtyard where Zvonka introduced her boss to all of us. Then, she asked RM a question and he nodded, turning to me to translate.

"She asked if we would give her a ride back to her office so her boss can go ahead and leave. I told her yes. That's okay, isn't it?"

"Of course," I said with a smile that looked much brighter than it actually was. Maybe if she liked us better than the other couple, I'd improve my chances of buying the house, I thought.

We wandered through the house again, this time with the strangers. I must admit I didn't look at the house very closely this time. I was watching their faces, and I could see clearly how much they liked what they were seeing. And not even a blind man could mistake their awe at the surrounding view when we stood above the valley.

When we returned to the courtyard, the couple moved away from us to speak to Zvonka. I was making small talk with RM because I was afraid I might cry if I didn't make the effort. RM, on the other hand, wasn't listening to me. He was trying desperately to pick up pieces of the couple's conversation with Zvonka. 

"I can't hear much of what they're saying," RM said to me sadly. "All I could hear is that they would like to buy the house."

Zvonka locked the front door then led all of us toward the gates which she also secured. We followed her toward the neighbor's house and stood in awkward silence near our cars as Zvonka returned the keys to the neighbor.

"Are you from Missouri?" the woman asked me. I didn't know she could even speak English and I was hoping RM hadn't said anything too loud to me that they could have understood. Embarrassing.

"Yes. Do you know Missouri?" I asked in return.

She told me that her husband had taught in St. Louis for a few years and they had lived there. I was again struck by the notion of how small the world really is. Out of all the people who might have been looking at the same property in this tiny Slovenian village, it was a couple who had lived in my home state and in a city where I had lived for a few years. 

Zvonka said goodbye to the couple and got into our car with us. I started firing off questions to RM to ask her. The first was what her boss had thought about the property.

"She says he was interested in buying this property himself, and that it should have been priced at no less than 150,000 Euros," RM translated for me.

I knew that price was too good to be true, I thought to myself, pouting.

"So, what happens now?" I asked.

RM looked at Zvonka and repeated the question. I tried to read his face as she responded to him but couldn't. He nodded, then looked over his right shoulder at me in the back seat while keeping an eye on the road.

"Zvonka says the house is yours for 98,000 Euros if you want it."

I hesitated in, well, stunned silence. RM looked back over his shoulder at me again.

"Well?"

"That's it? There's no bidding against the other people who are interested in it?" I asked with utter incredulity.

RM spoke to Zvonka again who replied while vigorously shaking her head.

"That's not the way they do it here," RM said. "It's yours. But you have to make up your mind by Monday."

"What's the process? How much money do I have to put down and what are the terms after that?"

RM spoke to her again, then responded to me in English.

"You have to put 10% down and you figure out the terms with the seller when you meet."

"Are there appraisals or inspections or anything? And what do I need to buy a house here since I'm not a citizen?"

More conversation.

"No appraisals or inspections. The seller just decides what he wants for it and the buyer either agrees or doesn't, but the price won't change. And Zvonka can get your tax numbers for you."

"What about closing costs and points and her fee?"

"I'm not sure how to translate 'closing costs' and what are points?" I could tell that RM was getting a little weary of my rapid-fire line of questioning.

"Just ask her what else I will have to pay besides the down payment and her fees. Please," I added to counter his dwindling patience. I was truly grateful for his willingness to translate everything for me.

RM asked and Zvonka answered.

"The only costs will be maybe 100 Euros in tax and you and the seller split her fee. She says your total cost will be about 101,000 Euros."

"That's it? It's that simple?"

"Apparently," RM said.

I leaned back in the seat with a big, stupid grin of relief on my face. It was mine for the taking. I breathed deeply and got lost in my thoughts as RM and Zvonka continued talking in the front seats. When we dropped her off at her office in Ajdovscina, I climbed out of the back seat to take her place in the front. I smiled at her and shook her hand between both of mine, looking her in the eye and saying one of the few Slovene conversational terms I knew, "Hvala lepa. Hvala lepa." (Thank you very much -- twice.)

I couldn't believe it. Was I really this close to owning this incredible property in this historic little village in this completely foreign country in Europe? Was I dreaming? I hoped not.

Now, where would I come up with 9,800 Euros and what was today's exchange rate with the U.S. Dollar? I chastised myself for raining on my own proverbial parade here with these technicalities. For now, I would be content to dream and pray that with faith and a little ingenuity, I could come up with the rest.