A few years ago we travelled around for 8 months. And traveling around includes spending time in Italy. For me, it is quintessential and one of the dream destinations, because I just love Italy. Everything Italian is better than anything else. Pronto! Food, wine, style, just anything.

We spent a week on the Aeolian Islands for hiking, and a weeklong foodtour in and around Naples, then my brother recommended a vacation home his friend just finished remodeling in a quaint little village above Lago di Garda, called Muslone. We booked it, being the Guinea pigs to check if everything is working or in need of adjustments.

A year later we booked the same vacation home again, this time sharing it with family and friends. Hiking trails right outside the village, grandiose views, relaxing silence at night, because the only street up the mountain ends there and since it has no tourist attractions, the people who come here are either hikers or tree huggers, both of which are not known for beer pong parties and drink -till-you-drop-gatherings. It is so quiet here, that you wonder why all of a sudden the blood in your ears makes noise 🤣

Muslone called our names. We fell in love with the rustic houses, ancient old cobblestone streets, we liked the simplicity of daily life, and all surrounded by trees, trees, and more trees! Did I mention lemon trees? Or olive trees??? Muslone was founded in the 16th century, it has quite a colorful history: 600 people lived here at that time, 13 bars were in town, schools, a church, everything a hardworking farmer needs. Lemon, olive oil and wine were grown, produced and sold. The location was valuable, battles were fought over it! Fast forward to now, there are 60 people in the village, mostly elderly, who hang on to the glory of the past. But age comes with the advantage of poor eyesight and bad hearing. You don’t see the wrinkles. You don’t hear the sighs, moans and groans of old age. So in your inner fantasies, Muslone is still an established trade location with a thriving future. Nowadays many houses are owned by people from other parts of Italy, from Northern and Middle Europe and used as vacation homes. There is a church, an alimentary store and … nothing else. No bars, no school, nothing. According to the recent census results, there is only 1 child under the age of 4. That’s all. The mix with the newer vacationers is what keeps the village alive. The alimentary store is busy. People need to eat!

And then we heard about a house, a rustico as it is called here, that an older couple from Germany had to give up for health reasons. At 90+ they became too old to drive over the Alpes to enjoy their vacation home, so their son stepped in and tried to sell it. As is. Which was a lot! The rustico was filled with furniture and fixtures, top to bottom – and we are speaking 3 floors – filled with books and CDs, household Schnickschnack and Nippes, somebody would need 90+ years to collect! Style wise it was like secondary Ikea look after the expiration date. When I moved out of my parent’s house at the age of 19, those were the furniture I had and had left behind a long time ago. And here they were, as if the magic circle just closed and they caught up on me – just 40 years later.

I liked the house. But I didn’t like the collection of somebody’s lives. We negotiated back and forth, we had paying conditions, they had selling dreams, so the deal never happened. Unrealistic expectations vs our somewhat too creative payment plan.

One year later, we were back. My brother Jürgen joined us on that trip, to check out that house again and 6 other objects that were for sale at that time. Our payment conditions were serious and solid by then, we were ready!