Next stop, Scotland!

After travelling 3645 miles (5866 kms) across Europe in our now very trusty (or should that read 'crusty') Croissant, we're currently back in Devon, recharging our batteries and brains. Next stop should be initially North Yorkshire to collect some keys, and then onwards north to Campbelltown, Kintyre, Scotland where we've taken a sit in a 17th Century cottage.

We're told it has heating, a full kitchen, and two bedrooms. There's a full cooker, a microwave, a laundry room (that works) and even a TV - complete luxury compared to the Umbrian house.

In return for keeping an eye on the place, and keeping the other 2 cottages clean and tidy for visitors, we get free rent giving us theoretically lots of spare time to do what we planned to do in Italy. Whilst we're a little behind the clock, and a little poorer, we're still on track to achieve what we set out to do!

The nearest town is Campbelltown, which is 3 miles away, where there's a couple of supermarkets, along with some other basic amenities. The postman comes daily, and of course, there's no language barrier to contend with!

Limbo

We're sort of in limbo currently. But its a nice sort of limbo.

Never before have I had this feeling - one of not really having any idea about what is coming next. On a daily basis now I've wondered whether to just take the fast road home or not, and then quickly realise that our home is currently Croissant the Peugeot.

So, since leaving the farm, we've:

•Panicked: We first ran to the nearest hotel to catch our breath.

•Relaxed: Being the only guests at the Best Western in Perugia made for first class service at economy prices. I think they miss us sorely.

•Thought long and hard : We needed some constants to be able to plan - a place to think, a place from which to phone and have the internet. The hotel in Perugia supplied that for 3 days, and now I think we've got used to living with constantly shifting sands.

•Holidayed : Perugia, Rome, Genova, San Remo (so far). Italy is genuinely a beautiful country, with amazing sights and a rich history. I can't believe we've only been here once before. Rome wasn't built in a day, but we did choose to see what we hadn't already in just one day - namely the Vatican. Wow - what a place, although the Sistene Chapel was a little flamboyant for my liking, as was the hotel room we had right next door, what with it's original gilt-framed oil painting over the bed and tiled steps into the hot tub bath large enough for 6 adults. It could very easily have been Las Vegas, except for the fact it was actually very old! Genova is amazingly quaint, as is San Remo just along the coast towards Monaco. Italy is a wonderful country full of lovely people (who ALL seem to be in love with Rhett), and we'll be back here for sure. I think we're off to France tomorrow, and then possibly Spain and maybe even Ireland too. We'll see.

•Worked: I've been doing a little freelance work on the road to keep the car fuelled and allow us the luxury of more time. The more I get, the longer we can stay moving.

•Done the laundry: We finally gave in and used a launderette yesterday, giving us clean pants for another 3 weeks. We of course washed everything dirty in the cases, and now have plenty to keep us going. In fact, only what we're wearing today is dirty currently. Twinkle even has 3 clean pairs of pyjamas!

•Eaten too many pizzas: Twinkle doesn't eat a vast array of foodstuffs, and is sadly a bit over the fact that here in Italy all she seems to be eating is Pizza and Gnocchi. It's probably the sole reason we'll be leaving Italy tomorrow!

•Dodged the traffic: I've had many many near misses here in Italy - not a single one being my fault. Italians generally drive like they're in a race and are by far the worst drivers I've ever come across - even worse than Sydney taxi drivers. Some of the risks they take are simply ludicrous, but mighty entertaining to watch.

•Taken photos: Yes! I'm finally taking some pictures, as per one of my objectives. I've still yet to pick up a pencil to start drawing though. All in good time, all in good time!

So, next stop? Not really sure. Maybe we'll head for France tomorrow, maybe we'll stay here in San Remo. The coffee if nothing else is excellent here at the Hotel Paradiso (I kid you not!)

The Other Side Of The Coin

We always knew coming to Umbria carried with it the risk of it all going very wrong. And so it has.

With a very clear objective (as described in the title of this blog), the Umbrian house was never going to answer our needs at all, so in many ways, the decision to leave was very easy.

Of course, after months and months of negotiation and a substantial amount of money as well as the logistics of moving the family and all of our belongings from Australia, pulling out wasn't something we ever wanted to do, nor was it a decision we took lightly.

It's easy to slag off just how awful it was, but there is another side to this coin, and her name is Angelika - the lady who owns the house.

Angelika is an amazing lady - hardened to live in such conditions, and blessed with a heart of gold. We all became very fond of her; she welcomed us with open arms into her world, with a view to us turning the place around with her. She fed us many times, supplied us with wood for the fire, and lent us her snow chains to visit the shops, and ultimately escape the grip of the Umbrian hillside on our last day, telling us to hang them in the trees for her to find when walking Amelie later. Her endless ability to be resourceful was incredible, and every day, she laughed - often at us, but never in a nasty way - giving us hope that things would be ok. Her positive outlook on how the world should run was very inspiring and also remarkably infectious.

But the farm needed more than us to turn it around - it needs an army of young, enthusiastic idealists to take almost everything and pump it full of much needed life.

Almost everything needs some form of maintenance, from reaffixing garage doors correctly, to painting window frames and gates, sharpening the axe, and maintaining the lawns. Everywhere you look, it's falling apart, and many things (as we discovered) simply don't work anymore. It's the perfect backdrop to entice wealthy couples, in a truly beautiful part of the world, yet without some simple changes, the only sort of people that will be interested are either idiots like us, or hippies. And those sorts of people don't turn muck into brass for others.

Angelikas situation is almost exactly the same as those folk who inherit stately homes, but can't afford to run them - they end up living in the kitchen, which is cheap to heat, light, and furnish, and never manage to work out how to generate cash from the paying public.

It takes 'Country House Rescue' to save these people, but sadly for Angelika, we never went to Umbria to rescue her property - we went to build a better existence for ourselves. Plain and simple. Spending hours cutting wood to survive was never going to appeal to us, purely because it takes physical strength to do things like that, on top of the physical tasks we were meant to undertake - we expelled almost every ounce of energy over the 5 days on simply surviving, leaving none for each other or any of our projects. Had we signed up for a survival course, we'd have left very happy with our new skills, but we didn't go for that.

If the weather hadn't been so utterly bitter for us, maybe, just maybe we'd have stayed long enough to get the ball rolling on what the property absolutely must have to pull it from the brink of certain death as well as carry out our own projects and needs to ensure all parties were happy, but sadly, I fear this place will ultimately be boarded up, and abandoned like so many other beautiful old buildings all over Italy.

So, think you can last longer than us, and help Angelika out of the doldrums? Let me know (urgently!), we'd love to hook you up with her and Amelie, her beautiful dog.

Day 5 - The Great Escape

Today, when the alarm rang, we flew out of bed with gumption. We'd decided the exit from Caligiana would be quick and clean.

Last night, I'd spent hours loading what was ready into Croissant; the extremely heavy large suitcase (over 50kg in clothing squeezed back into it without the aid of the vacuum bags we'd used on the way over from the UK) was laid down on it's belly and pushed up the steep hill to the top like a sledge, the Urbo, the high chair that Fossy had given us in London, and the toys.

We finished last minute packing, emptied the bins, and I went up to fit the snow chains that Angelika had told us we could borrow. We intended on bringing them back on foot, but she told me to leave them hanging from a tree in a yellow bag for easy finding when she walked Amelie later - she was hugely trusting and resourceful in that way; something I really admired in her.

It took me an hour to fit just the first one, with a stupid schoolboy error of moving the car midway through, to make it easier. I managed to catch one of the links behind something important looking (the brake pipe?) and only managed to free it after much messing around. My fingers started to feel like my toes had when clearing the stone steps - i.e. not really attached any more.

Angelika appeared, and helped me fit the second, and finally, after another few trips up and down to the house, we were ready to set off.

The gate went back, we all said our goodbyes, and we slowly crept out onto the trackway. It was covered in sheet ice that glistened in the daylight. As we started to climb, we breathed a sigh of huge relief that it was over.

But alas, it wasn't.

100 meters along the track, we hit a steep incline, and this time, with the extra weight, the extra snow, and now the ice, Croissant would too fail where Fiat Pandas had before her. No matter what I did, she refused to climb, instead merely spinning, then digging her tyres into the gravel beneath the layer of ice, throwing it violently into the air. We reversed, and tried again, then again, and again. But we got no further.

Out came the spade, and Angelika fetched a larger one, and we all frantically dug in the snow. But again, it was a failure. Then we tried sticks under the wheels, and card too, but again, it wasn't to be.

Angelika suggested we abandon the car in the road, and return to hers. We could stay with her in the main house until the snow cleared, but in truth, that could be days if not weeks. I didn't really think it to be an option, knowing we were soon to run out of food, and more so, that Twinkle simply wanted to leave, no matter what - she (along with me) was broken by the house and situation. The neighbours tractor wouldn't start in the cold so there was no hope of being dragged up, and another neighbour with a Land Rover was out, and for who knew how long.

We returned to the main house, to call the European Breakdown Cover I have in place. They sadly told us we weren't covered for 'stuck on snow or ice' - it seemed we were trapped until the snow melted. A promise from Direct Line Insurance regarding a call from a local garage proved hollow, but after some lunch, a neighbour came to the door.

After a long drawn out conversation between him and Angelika in Italian, it turned out that he simply wanted the car moved so he could pass in his little car, down the hill. But he'd also suggested he could move ours up the hill. Angelika advised me not to let him as he was a little 'crazy', but on the walk up the hill to move it, he held his hand out. In a moment of madness, I simply handed the key over in the vague hope he'd be able to help.

He first attempted to enter Croissant from the left, assuming she was a continental car, but after a quick laugh, loaded himself into the drivers seat and proceeded to get stuck exactly as we had. My heart sank. But then he backed her up, and took a rather long run up.

With a push of pure determination, he managed somehow to pass where I'd been stuck, and continued onwards towards the much steeper icy section of road. I ran behind.

As he dodged in a zig zag fashion around the road looking for grip, I continued to try and keep up, and with me wheezing like Wheezy The Penguin from Toy Story, we finally reached the crest of the hill. As he opened the drivers door, I ran to him, and hugged him, and whilst we didn't speak a word of each others language, we jumped up and down like 6 year old children in a playground. I was over the moon, he was simply happy he'd succeeded.

It transpired that he had been driving in the area since the age of 4, and knew the roads very well. Crazy or not, he was our hero.

I ran all the way back down the hill to where Twinkle and Rhett, and Angelika were, and arms extended, I ran into the kitchen screaming 'He's done it, he's done it!!!' Twinkle looked amazingly happy.

And with that, we walked quickly back up the hill, Rhett in my arms sound asleep, Twinkle chasing behind, and behind her, a sad looking Angelika. We loaded back into the car, said our goodbyes again, and left. It was 3 hours after we'd initially tried to set off.

Our escape was complete, although in all honesty, we did feel very sad to be leaving.

Dig For Victory

Today we also had the ominous task of clearing the 48 stone steps of snow and ice. Angelika collected a spade for me, and I started to use it like a guillotine into the ice. Initially, I quite enjoyed it, as it reminded me of clearing the path for Mum when I was a child. Dad always preferred to use salt, but I always liked the physical removal of solid water - it always felt so rewarding.

But after about the first 15 or 20 steps, my arms were beginning to hurt, and I started to think I'd need to have all ten of my toes amputated as I could no longer feel them. Twinkle came and joined in the fun about half way down, although it wasn't easy with Rhett performing death defying snow stunts on the stairs we'd cleared. Two hours later, the job was finished, although several hours after that, once snow had once again started to fall, I wondered why on earth we'd bothered.

Frozen Fun

We had a little rest bite today, and managed a little walk out and down the track to play in the snow. We donned our winter gear, Rhett wearing his full snow-suit, Twinkle in her full length doona coat and red bobble hat and scarf and me in my wood cutters hat.

We lasted about 20 minutes in the cold before retreating to the icy cosiness of our Italian Igloo.

Day 4 - Ok, We Surrender

Today, we awoke to a fire that wouldn't light. I burnt myself twice, and had burning paper at my slippers for a few moments whilst I tried (in vein) to warm our kitchen. Twinkle came to my rescue, and demonstrated her next new skill of rubbing two sticks together - or at least building a better fire than me, one that actually lights and stays lit.

But from the time the alarm had rung, until the time we'd all gotten showered and dressed, we'd somehow lost 2 hours of our lives. Angelika arrived, and we prepared to give her the bad news - we weren't staying in Umbria.

She proceeded to tell us the washing machine had packed up, and that the reason the fire wasn't staying lit was probably because the chimney needed cleaning. We were also informed that the water supply might freeze over, and we might have nothing to wash with, or to drink. We delivered our verdict - she looked ready to cry, but I think she'd faced this before from others. This place is peppered with many major issues.

The top ten reasons we have decided to leave Umbria are:

1: Heating: The gas burner is highly dangerous with a toddler. The wood burner is too, but also requires constant attention to keep it running (i.e., loading it every 20 minutes with logs - if we go outside, this isn't possible, and on return to the house, it's back to square one with building a fire from scratch. Also, now, it no longer works.

2: Cooking facilities: 2 extremely slow electric rings mean we simply can't cook much at all, and what we do cook takes literally forever.

3: Washing machine: Located a trek from our house, up 48 stone steps (the equivalent of a four storey house). However, it is broken, meaning the nearest washing facilities are in the town (now requiring snow chains to reach). If it did work, drying clothes would be another challenge, as there is no dryer, and the aforementioned heating system does not allow for drying of more than a couple of towels at any one time.

4: Connectivity: Whilst there is internet in the main house, wifi doesn't penetrate the 300 year old walls, and the suggested 50m ethernet cable is currently not possible because of the weather (not just the snow). Also, there is no phone, so the purchase of an Italian mobile would be necessary (if only we were staying). Landline in the main house is disconnected currently, because of falling tree branches severing the cable.

5: Electricity disconnection: Aforementioned falling tree branches have also meant we've experienced many power cuts, and the house is wired in such a way that we can only use a small amount of items simultaneously - the boiler and kettle exceed that quota, and cut our power.

6: Access and movement: The property is truly massive, with access to the lower house via terrifyingly steep stone steps. These became covered in sheet ice, making them all but deadly, meaning my second task was to clear them quickly. Two hours of my life I'll never get back! Vehicle access to the property is currently only possible with the use of snow chains, but even before the snow, access was a huge challenge, and Croissant's clutch won't hold up with many more trips in and out. Our tyres would not last until the summer with the crudeness of the track to reach the house either.

7: Bugs: The house is filled with local wildlife, including one particular breed of bug that sounds like a miniature helicopter - not ideal when sleeping. We've found spiders in bed with us, beetles in the food cupboards, and a constant supply wandering the floors which Rhett tries to eat.

8: Sleeping arrangement: By midnight, Rhett's toasty warm body turns to ice and his chattering teeth wake us all, meaning he is transferred into our bed to defrost. Our bed is slightly warmer, although because of the six duvets and three blankets, it is rather heavy on our legs, and we do both feel rather like the Pea from The Princess & The Pea. We also have four hot water bottles.

9: Broken toilet and other maintenance issues: It seems that literally everything in the house is somehow broken, and the toilet is no exception, which refuses to refill with water unless the cistern is fiddled with each time we flush. We also have a cupboard with a dropped door, thus locking all the draws to the left unless aforementioned cupboard door is opened first and a bookshelf that somewhat resembles the Leaning Tower of Pisa. The exterior lights don't work, meaning torches must be carried at night, and there is a huge lack of practical equipment in the kitchen, including no kettle.

10: The water supply: A constant fear is running out of water, which is fed by a well. Whilst we haven't yet run out, we rather feel it's only a matter of time.

Yes, it's time to leave.

Day 3 - The Importance Of Snow Chains

Tip 1: Always read the instructions, and do the one thing they tell you to do - practice in the dry before using them for real - you'll find it much easier than fitting them for the first time with snow filled wheel arches, and finger that will snap like icicles.

We sadly don't own any - but Angelika insisted on us using hers for a jaunt to the shops to get cash, wood to burn, and some other basic food. She of course fitted them with us, although she admitted midway through that the man in the stop made it look so easy, and the process took around 45 minutes to complete.

Thankfully, the drive up the gravel track was only possible with them, so it was well worth the effort. Croissant climbed like a mountain goat where Fiat Pandas had failed before her, and we were on our way. 10 minutes later, the road was clear, and we were required to remove them (to avoid road or tyre damage).

On the return trip, I decided not to refit them, instead risking the track the entire way in the vague hope we'd make it without the 45 minute session of pure frustration. In any case, it was all downhill where the snow started.

The shopping trip from start to finish had taken us 4 hours despite the shops only being 15 minutes away. Hell had clearly frozen over, and we were beginning to realise we were actually living in it. The vision of a life in Utopia was quickly slipping away.

The afternoon was spent cutting wood for the fire - not large logs which are delivered pre cut, but the twigs and branches used to start a fire. There were several bundles to work through, and we set about the task in the old candle shop in the warm (for warm, read not outside in the bitter wind. It was hardly warm, but at least it was dry).

Dry, initially that is.

Rhett decided to play with one of two watering cans. Twinkle was helping me, and in the blink of an eye, he had tipped the entire contents over the floor, completely flooding the room.

Tip 2: Do not leave your child unattended in a room containing watering cans full of water in someone else's house. If you do, you'll be spending an hour cleaning up a mess instead of spending an hour doing what you're meant to be doing.

The water wasn't easy to remove - there was simply so much of it.

In a scene of what resembled an episode of that Paris Hilton show 'The Simple Life' where they work jobs in the country clearly not designed for their delicate hands, we tried desperately to hide of mess from our boss whilst we giggled like naughty children.

But during a hard evening of upset because of the cold (Rhett was beginning to resemble a frozen lamb chop), the difficulty in cooking, the constant need to keep the fire stacked with quickly depleting logs and no time really to enjoy each other company, we slowly started to think it could never work here in Umbria.

Day 2 - Let The Games Begin

With no hot water, we awoke, and dressed in view to speak with the boss. She suddenly appeared at the house to check we were still alive, and went on to assure us the water should be hot from the taps. We breathed a sign of relief, but gasped when we were told the boiler was broken.

However, about two hours later, she returned, realising she'd placed a plastic back over the out pipe to keep the cold out recently.

Our gasps again turned to relief.

I showered, and on exiting, I shivered (the shiver theme is becoming consistent I think!) as I stepped back onto the ice cold stone floor. I could see my breath in the bitter air, as was the case elsewhere in the building, but I told myself it was only like being a child before we had central heating.

Next on the agenda was shopping - for another form of heating - a gas burner. We'd be buying it, along with the gas to run it.

On return, the first task was to cover the roof on the 'wagon' - a beautiful old railway wagon converted into accommodation, and containing a stove from about 1850 a double bed and a desk.

The roof covering had blown off whilst Angelika was away, and with expected snow, we needed to protect it. Initially Angelika wanted the roof put back on, but I showed how even with the strength of an ox we 3 stood no chance of lifting it up onto the roof of the wagon and instead suggested some plastic or tarpaulin.

Angelika agreed, and quickly appeared with some, along with some rope. A ladder was found in the old office some distance from the wagon, which I dragged over, and laid up against the woodwork of the old carriage. I scaled it and sat on the roof, whilst it wavered in the wind.

Terrified of crashing through and onto the stove below, I stayed very still, and slowly dragged the plastic up and down the other side. We then lashed it down using the knots my Dad taught me when I was 11 (wow, the old lasso knot is still so good!), and I was pleased to have controlled the situation well. I think Angelika was pleased too.

Twinkle helped where she could but also spent some time collected sticks for the fire with Rhett.

It was a beautiful picture.

That night, the snow came - about 12 inches of the white stuff covering everything in a beautiful carpet of purity. We'd covered the roof just in time, and indeed, had arrived just in time - 24 hours later, and we'd have been stuck in the snow somewhere down the track.

Day 1 - The House

Angelika took us down to see the house. The route from the main house to the small one we would be staying in was precarious, and I wondered if in fact we really needed a sherpa. There were many unlevel stone steps downwards, made all the more precarious by carrying Rhett, and finding our way by torchlight.

A quick tour of the house showed us two main things -

1: it's massive, and space will not be an issue.

2: it's extremely rustic (for rustic, read 'utterly basic'). There is no oven as such - just a couple of electric rings and a wood burner, which resembles one of those old fashioned stoves you used to see in Ladybird books - a small box in the corner with flames in the middle, a single pot on the top (in this case, containing boiling water), and a chimney rising to the ceiling. I doubt we'll be cooking much in it, because inside is full of burning logs and there's no room for anything else. Whilst Twinkle is not a foodie, I think she's already missing her luxury kitchen with double dishwasher, huge fridge and the ability to cook cakes. And we've only been here for 4 minutes.

We discovered that whilst the house is plumbed for central heating, it's too expensive to run, and we also didn't appear to have any hot water running from the taps.

Tara began to panic.

That night, we slept briefly, before both realising we were both shivering in bed - wide awake. Rhett was snoring, but did have icicles hanging from his cot - well, ok, I exaggerate, but it wasn't far from the truth - this place is Cold with a capital C. Never before had I felt so uncomfortable, or worried for our survival. There was a shower, but with no hot water, this would be useless. We tossed up various dilemmas including pulling the plug completely because of utter unworkability, but decided to sleep (or rather shiver) on it, and speak with Angelika in the morning.

Final Approach

After the mammoth trip over from the UK, we finally reached Umbria. The sun was shining, and the surrounding landscape looked exactly like one of those travel posters advertising the best of Italy. Tall trees, the scattering of ancient farm buildings, and rows and rows of vineyards and olive tree plantations.

After a detour to a supermarket to grab some basic supplies, the sun set, and we set the GPS to point us in the right direction, and set off on our final leg - to the house.

After leaving Perugia, we travelled on country lanes that soon became single track laneways, and ultimately what are called 'white roads' - gravel trackways which limit progress to about 10 miles per hours because of the pot holes and rocks that pepper them. Of course, non of the above have street lights or paths, and are only wide enough for one vehicle.

And then, approaching a cluster of stone buildings, the GPS announced 'Arriving at destination on left'. We had arrived indeed. Using the headlights and torch, we tried to find the right house, first buzzing on some very expensive looking gates which ultimately turned out to be next door. We asked for Angelika, and were pointed back down the track. Then bumping into another neighbour in his car, asked the same question, and again were pointed further down the track. After another 93 point turn, a wheel spin in the dirt because of the very steep gradient and a burning smell from the clutch for what seemed like eternity, we finally found the entrance. Angelika was at the door of a massive building, and we hugged.