Door-to-Door Apartment Hunting in Verona

Here are a few views of Verona along the river Adige.

In late August my in-laws arrived from Paris.  In earlier posts I talked about my wonderful, mother-in-law, Juliette.  Her husband, André, was a brusk man who had been strict with his children when they were growing up.  He had a kind heart and a wry sense of humor.  He always treated me rather formally with kindness and respect.  I called them Mère and Père.  

Perhaps this was taken at Vincent's brother Etienne's wedding.

I think about how difficult it was for my in-laws to raise their family during WWII; two of their four children were born during the war.  The insecurities, fear and lack of basic necessities must have been horrific.  I think those experiences marked them for life.  After the German occupation,  France had to rebuild its economy.  A creative, energetic and inventive person could build a business.  André was an engineer. With a partner he formed a company that designed machines to fulfill a specific task; for example a machine to mold or stamp a screw. 

Here I am on a walk with Mère at the Giardino Giusti.

Père and Mère came for a week to Cerro and were terrifically helpful.  We had a problem.  We needed to find an apartment in Verona for the winter.  School started October 1st.  We were told that there was no reliable real estate agency we could work with.  In addition, acceptable apartments would not be advertised in the paper.  It was suggested that I go door-to-door to ask if there were vacancies. That is what I did.

Each day Mère watched the children while Père and I drove down to Verona. He was an aficionado of romanesque and gothic architecture.  He liked nothing better than spending the day visiting churches and there were plenty in Verona.  He dropped me off in an area of town that seemed promising and went touristing.  I went from building to building.  Normally there was a portinaio - a porter or doorman.  I would ask him if there was an apartment for rent.  He would shake his head and I would move on.  It seemed a fruitless search.  At noon, I met Père and we had lunch together.  It was a treat to be out for a meal without the children but I was getting nervous.  There didn’t seem to be anything for rent in the areas of town that had been suggested to us.  I visited a few cramped apartments that wouldn’t do.  This went on for four days.  I was feeling desperate.  But on the fifth day I hit pay dirt. 

This is a post card of Corso Porta Nuova that I sent to my parents.  Our apartment is marked by an X about a 1/3 down from the top on the left . See the little park across the street.

That morning I was on a large boulevard: Corso Porta Nuova.  At one end, was the Porta Nuova - the new gate/door to the city.  At the other end were i Portoni della Brà  - gates that lead into Piazza Bra, a major piazza where the Arena is located.  This is a Roman arena that is used today for performances of the Opera La Scala in the summer.  One year we saw a production of Aïda there complete with elephants.

This is the Porta Nuova. Part of it dates back to the middle ages, part from the 1850's.  Now the streets go around it.  Back in the day, walls stretched out on both sides. To enter the city you had to enter through these gates.

Here are the gates that lead into Piazza Bra.

Piazza Bra with Arena on right.  I loved the wide sidewalks.  Great place for a caffè or gelato.

The doorman was friendly and took me up to a fourth floor apartment.  It was perfect: large living room/dining room with windows and balcony on the Corso, very large kitchen, pantry, library/den, three bedrooms and two large bathrooms.  The floors of the formal rooms were a creamy marble and the bedrooms had swallowtail parquet floors.  It was empty and ready to go.  This was a signorile apartment.  I just looked up the definition for you; signorile - ladylike, gentlemanlike, luxury, refined, elegant!  

However, at that time apartments in Italy had no kitchen appliances or cabinets and the bedrooms had no closets. Vincent was able to obtain what we needed through acquaintances of people at the plant.  So much in Italy occurs through cousins of cousins or friends of friends.

Three adorable children on the balcony of our new apartment.