Goodbye casa del mago

When locals ask me where I live and I explain that I’m in that cute little palazzo near the university the standard response is – “La casa del mago?”  My little building is famous in Treviso for once being home to a TV magician and no one can quite believe that the mago has given way to this little hobo. As well as being the former abode of a minor celebrity the little palazzo is also the most picturesque residence in Treviso – the downside of which is regularly opening your front door to find tourists photographing your building (not the best of surprises on a Sunday morning when you’re just nipping out for milk.)   Small as my apartment is it has a bucket load of character but tonight my apartment doesn’t feel like home – more like an empty shell.  My clothes are packed, the fridge almost empty and I’ve donated the contents of my lovingly collected spice cupboard to T and E.  After 16 months I’ve come to the end of my time in this little place.  

   

When I took the apartment last year I really didn’t give much thought to how long I would be here – I just needed to get out of where I was staying and took the cheapest central place I could find. It was also a bit of a bonus to find the other apartments in the building empty – I really had the place to myself.  I’d never lived alone before and was curious to try it in what was a new and exciting place.  Prior to this place I’d been moving pretty constantly for a few years so I really didn’t imagine staying in one spot so long.  There have been so many delights to solo living; setting up the kitchen just the way I like it, not having to worry about disturbing other people, knowing that when I come home and shut the door the place is mine and of course not having to worry about my state of dress. 

Naturally there have been times when I’ve missed having a flatmate – someone to make you a cup of tea when you come home tired, to watch a movie with, to talk you down from a frustrating day and to nurse you when you’re sick (have a hangover.) But these things aside living alone has much to recommend it. 

Despite my best efforts over the year I seem to have amassed a crap load of stuff.  When I arrived in Italy I came with two suitcases (admittedly they were heavy enough to blow the Qantas baggage allowance.)  During these last few days of packing I seem to find endless things to pack.  More than once I’ve cursed my book habit and now vow to go digital in the near future.  Looking at the stuff I have to move tires me and I almost convince myself to stay out of sheer laziness.  In the immediate future I’m going to couch surf with friends and then – well who knows.

Farewell my little home

When I look back and peaceful nights at home, the meals I’ve cooked and the friends I’ve hosted I realise that I’ve been really happy here.  For a time it really was a home and I'm going to miss this place.  I'm not however going to miss nearly getting killed by a car speeding round the blind corner every time I walk out of the gate.  My only regret is that I never got round to having that aperitivo in the front yard that I was always planning.   I’m going to miss the soothing sound of the canals on either side of the building, having a kitchen to myself, and not having to worry about my state of dress.  As I write this I have no idea of where I’m ultimately going I only hope it will be as good to me as this place has been.