Somehow our move to Pozzuoli goes peacefully.
Well, mostly.
There is a disagreement about whether the refrigerator will fit up the
stairs. “We will not be responsible for
any damages,” is not something you want to hear from the moving company. Luckily the Major is just Italian enough to
wear down the opposition. The man is convinced to give it a try. That man
doesn’t speak to us for the rest of his time in our presence. But we have a nice fridge. On the fourth floor. In the kitchen. Where it belongs.
Everyone shows up, relatively on time, and the lift, as
expected, is assembled. Imagine a very
tall ladder with a small motorized platform that ambles up and down. And then imagine your couch on said ladder… yikes.
I stayed inside to direct boxes into their proper general area, and keep
the Smalls out of trouble.
We left a good portion of our stuff back in California in
storage, or sold it on Craigslist before we came. Planning on a minimum of a two-bedroom, but
not wanting to be encumbered by overzealous packing, we (I) tried to minimize. As the “stuff” continues to stream into the
house, I feel somewhat embarrassed by the magnitude of the operation. And this is “paired down”.
Does the stuff multiply during transport?
Seriously.
Why do we own…
so… much… crap…
As the three sets of movers pour sweat onto the four flights
of stairs, I question the decisions we (I) made back in Monterey – what to
keep/sell/store/move/donate.
Simultaneously making mental lists of what we will now “need” for our
new home – rugs, a kitchen something to store all the “kitchen stuff”, lamps…
Luckily I followed some advice and brought everything we
owned that could act as “storage”, for there are no closets in Italy. We are provided wardrobes by the base, along
with our major European appliances. Four
moderately sized boxes to serve as closets.
Not pretty, but fairly decently functional.
We’ve been in the apartment for about ten days. Mostly everything has a place. It's actually a fairly spacious three-bedroom apartment with three bathrooms.
The kitchen thingie we ordered from Ikea
(yes, there is even an Ikea here) was delivered and yours truly spent the whole
day (sans interruptions by the Smalls) putting the darn thing together. But the kitchen is worth the effort. Food is central to our experience here.
We carefully orchestrate the guest room, dreaming of who will
be making the trip across the pond. We
are actually perfectly located for guests – walking distance to the metro, bus
and train stations… there are THREE (tre) pizza places within a block – and one
of them has been reported to us by many as the best pizza joint around… we are in the process of verifying that
recommendation.
In our square there is
also: a market with prepared foods, a
tavola calda (pizza and prepared foods for eat in or take out), a bar (the
breakfast/coffee kind), a bar (seems to be more of the “drinking” kind, but not
verified), a butcher, a daily market, a restaurant, and an (almost) daily
fruit/vegetable truck.
We are also
walking distance to the port of Pozzuoli where there is a fish market, and
ferry boats to Ischia, Capri, and a few other destinations.
It’s a rainy day here, and we have already made the trip
down the stairs for our daily fruit and veggies...
I guess it's a good day to master the miniature washing machine and figure out how to put salt in the dishwasher.
