With my friend having left, it is back to the grindstone today with a vengeance.
Having had the long drive to and from Cluj last night we filled up with petrol. There, in the hut that serves as an office, amidst the various maps and papers, was the very latest monthly from JAMIE OLIVER - in Romanian, teaching them how to cook. I can't help but think his recipes don't start with.. " Take a pig..." or " take 20 litres of neat alcohol." I daresay someone must be buying it.
The second round of the Presidential elections takes place on 6th December. Today, in an effort to dislodge Basescu, the Liberal party ( nominally his supporters ) the PSD, the PC, the "Transylvania for Hungarians" party and the " Kill all Hungarians" party formed a pact which, with a bit of luck, might get rid of him and deliver Geoana. There has been skullduggery at work. A large Geoana poster, set in 5 cm thick metal posts and in concrete was rammed and destroyed by a politically motivated vehicle from downtown Medias. At least that is the story. I suspect it may have been a drunk.
They do go a bit further than we do. In the petrol station you can get Geoana adverts which are actually the smelly things you hang in your car to make it smell nice.
I was particularly delighted to see the corn mill at work today. This dates back ( in part) to the early 1800s, and still takes in the corn cobs from the locals, grinds the corn and gives it back for a fee in time-honoured fashion. Here, the fee is usually a percentage of the amount milled. There was a most picturesque queue of worthy sons and daughters of the soil, along with their carts and horses, waiting to have their corn dealt with. It is mostly made into polenta, and is also mixed with wheat flour to make the bread go further.
Our first call was to Mosna Town Hall. We had asked Vasily, the map supremo, to extract names and addresses against field numbers.
There was no sign of him. One of the ladies told us that he had worked all night, fortified by copious draughts of tuica, and had had to be carried home at 7am when everyone came to work. The Mayor had granted him official leave to stay there until Monday...
Armed with our list ( the first names were clear and legible, the later ones very squiggly and a bit unsteady) we set off to check the fields themselves against the maps.
Always when we do this we are followed by a gaggle of old men and women, all of whom know every blade of grass and who it belongs to - except none of it corresponds with the maps or the property titles. It was a glorious day once more and we walked a total of about 12 kms checking and cross checking - the property titles also tell you who is to the North, South, East and West, so it is easy enough to check correctly, just time consuming. In the distance we could see Toaderico ploughing some of our fields. It was a treat to see a small patchwork of presently unused land being transferred into one large piece that will hopefully be productive. I had had some deep holes dug at various points in an area we are interested in, and we checked how they were coming on. All were more than 2 meters deep, and all still showing deep black earth even at the bottom. I told the diggers to stop - the land is more than good.
On our way back we came across the Mayor supervising the re-erection of the giant Geoana poster, and told him of our discoveries. His face broke into a broad grin.
"Ah, da. Forte Bine - terren fromose."
The land is good.
Showing posts with label Land. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Land. Show all posts
Thursday, November 26, 2009
Wednesday, May 06, 2009
Intrigue
Monday dawned another beautiful day with, in theory, time for a rest. Of course, it didn't turn out like that, as no sooner had we settled on going to look over some other land than Alin's phone was ringing with requirements for our presence.
The most intriguing was from Toader.
Toader's mother owns a piece of land right in the middle of parcels we already own. Unfortunately she has been taken ill, and Toader now has a power of attorney.
So far so good.
Also unfortunately, Toader's son is a bit of a tearaway. He got riotously drunk about a month ago and went into the woods to cut firewood. Technically this is illegal, but, of course, it is where everybody's firewood comes from.
Even more unfortunately, Toader's son saw a rather good looking tree that didn't have any branches on it and chopped it down.
Only it was carrying the main electricity cable between Mosna and Nemsa, and Nemsa was without power for 24 hours.
Even worse, the son had tried to chop away all the pesky wires attached to the felled tree which resulted in him blowing up the chain saw and knocking himself out to such an extent that when Erne the policeman arrived Toader's son was still groggy.
In theory there is bail in Romania, but it's not for the likes of young tearaways, so the son has been in Medias jail since then.
Now there are a whole range of crimes with which he could be charged, but in view of the fact everyone regarded the whole episode as really funny ( so drunk he didn't know it wasn't a tree!) the charge brought was damage to Electricity Company property - which is civil rather than criminal.
Except it costs money to pay the fine/reimburse the Company.
So Toader wanted money to help with this.
We were very loathe to help, because, even though we wanted the land, we felt the mother should at least be consulted. Toader was going to take her money for his own use rather than hers.
We told him so.
Which is when he put an intriguing proposition to us.
If we would buy the land, he would do all our ploughing ( or plugging as Alin refers to it) and planting for the same money as his mother was due from the land, and we could pay it direct to her - or at least to the chemist shop supplying her drugs..
Which seemed fair enough.
So Toader's son got out of jail ( his father promptly got him to start plugging)
Toader's mother got a complete supply of the drugs she needed.
And we got a parcel of land we wanted.
Even the Mayor of Clochemerle would have been pleased.
The most intriguing was from Toader.
Toader's mother owns a piece of land right in the middle of parcels we already own. Unfortunately she has been taken ill, and Toader now has a power of attorney.
So far so good.
Also unfortunately, Toader's son is a bit of a tearaway. He got riotously drunk about a month ago and went into the woods to cut firewood. Technically this is illegal, but, of course, it is where everybody's firewood comes from.
Even more unfortunately, Toader's son saw a rather good looking tree that didn't have any branches on it and chopped it down.
Only it was carrying the main electricity cable between Mosna and Nemsa, and Nemsa was without power for 24 hours.
Even worse, the son had tried to chop away all the pesky wires attached to the felled tree which resulted in him blowing up the chain saw and knocking himself out to such an extent that when Erne the policeman arrived Toader's son was still groggy.
In theory there is bail in Romania, but it's not for the likes of young tearaways, so the son has been in Medias jail since then.
Now there are a whole range of crimes with which he could be charged, but in view of the fact everyone regarded the whole episode as really funny ( so drunk he didn't know it wasn't a tree!) the charge brought was damage to Electricity Company property - which is civil rather than criminal.
Except it costs money to pay the fine/reimburse the Company.
So Toader wanted money to help with this.
We were very loathe to help, because, even though we wanted the land, we felt the mother should at least be consulted. Toader was going to take her money for his own use rather than hers.
We told him so.
Which is when he put an intriguing proposition to us.
If we would buy the land, he would do all our ploughing ( or plugging as Alin refers to it) and planting for the same money as his mother was due from the land, and we could pay it direct to her - or at least to the chemist shop supplying her drugs..
Which seemed fair enough.
So Toader's son got out of jail ( his father promptly got him to start plugging)
Toader's mother got a complete supply of the drugs she needed.
And we got a parcel of land we wanted.
Even the Mayor of Clochemerle would have been pleased.
Tuesday, May 05, 2009
A day of rest...
Sunday was a slow start, but by 9:30 (!) we had breakfasted and were heading for the first meeting of the day.
I wanted the Ex-banker to see a negotiation and understand how the land registration system worked. He was taken aback by the welcome we received in the little house, which included juice and cakes.
" These people can hardly afford to do this" he whispered.
" Yes but they have their pride and to refuse would give offence."
The second house was even poorer but by around noon we had managed to sort out the problems, the actual areas and the prices to be paid.
As regards the areas of land, every single time we talk about buying some land, we are assured, categorically, that the .50 hectares that the titles say is theirs is actually, e.g. 1.4 hectares and it was only the corrupt lying officials who put the sizes down lower because they were a poor family.
So far, the only mistakes we have found have been made by lawyers....
We popped into Elena's, and promptly had plates of cabbage pie put in from of us.
This sounds revolting but like the cabbage salad, is delicious. It's also the local equivalent of Barr's Irn Bru, that well known Scottish hangover cure. The Ex-b had been saying he didn't suppose it was avalaible in Romania, but in view of the amount of alcohol drunk here he would speak to Robin Barr about it.
I wanted the Ex-b to see Richis and Biertan, and to meet my friend the painter, Ion Constantinescu of Biertan. The idea was to meet the Mayor for lunch at the Unglerus in Biertan about 6pm.
Ion had guests when we arrived, but would hear nothing but that we should come in and have a glass or two. He showed me his newest works, which I'm glad to say were wood carving prints, and which were using more than one colour. They were excellent, and he had already sold some to Italy, as well as having them accepted for the all Romania travelling exhibition, the equivalent of being an RA, but rather better, as there were a maximum of 25 pictures taken round the country. Some years there were less.
Lunch passed off well, and then we made our way back to Sighisoara to put the Ex-b on the train back to Budapest.
" Well, Mr.King," said Alin," I think we show your friend how we are doing good here in Transylvania."
" Indeed. And if he can just remember even some of it, then we will have had a successful time."
I wanted the Ex-banker to see a negotiation and understand how the land registration system worked. He was taken aback by the welcome we received in the little house, which included juice and cakes.
" These people can hardly afford to do this" he whispered.
" Yes but they have their pride and to refuse would give offence."
The second house was even poorer but by around noon we had managed to sort out the problems, the actual areas and the prices to be paid.
As regards the areas of land, every single time we talk about buying some land, we are assured, categorically, that the .50 hectares that the titles say is theirs is actually, e.g. 1.4 hectares and it was only the corrupt lying officials who put the sizes down lower because they were a poor family.
So far, the only mistakes we have found have been made by lawyers....
We popped into Elena's, and promptly had plates of cabbage pie put in from of us.
This sounds revolting but like the cabbage salad, is delicious. It's also the local equivalent of Barr's Irn Bru, that well known Scottish hangover cure. The Ex-b had been saying he didn't suppose it was avalaible in Romania, but in view of the amount of alcohol drunk here he would speak to Robin Barr about it.
I wanted the Ex-b to see Richis and Biertan, and to meet my friend the painter, Ion Constantinescu of Biertan. The idea was to meet the Mayor for lunch at the Unglerus in Biertan about 6pm.
Ion had guests when we arrived, but would hear nothing but that we should come in and have a glass or two. He showed me his newest works, which I'm glad to say were wood carving prints, and which were using more than one colour. They were excellent, and he had already sold some to Italy, as well as having them accepted for the all Romania travelling exhibition, the equivalent of being an RA, but rather better, as there were a maximum of 25 pictures taken round the country. Some years there were less.
Lunch passed off well, and then we made our way back to Sighisoara to put the Ex-b on the train back to Budapest.
" Well, Mr.King," said Alin," I think we show your friend how we are doing good here in Transylvania."
" Indeed. And if he can just remember even some of it, then we will have had a successful time."
Friday, March 13, 2009
No price.
You will have noticed that I haven't been to Romania a lot recently, but that will shortly have to be rectified. The reason is there has been just too much here to deal with, what with the Crunch and all, but after last year when we had so many deaths in the first part of the year, I thought it might be wise to remain available.
I've spent much more time on the phone to Alin, which is always interesting, because for some reason his English deteriorates. I spent some time discussing the " plugging" he was ordering on a field. I didn't wish to show my ignorance by saying I had no idea what this was. Fortunately, as the conversation went on, a light flashed on and I was able to discuss the " ploughing" with some understanding.
The other thing he insists on discussing are the " inheritage" issues some of the land vendors have, which usually involve a trip to Sibiu to the Land Court to get yet another stamp.And unlike English, where the plural of sheep is sheep, in Romania, the plural of sheep is " sheeps". I am particularly fond of the " little baby sheeps" that are presently being born, especially when the "shepherding man" has had to protect them from the " teeth-eating wolfies". Strange diet for a wolf if you ask me. Apart from anything else, I'm sure the " wolfies" are just there so the shepherd can keep a few of the baby sheeps for himself ( " So terrible Mr.K, the wolfies are teeth-eating them." Hmmm)
Today's particular conversation revolved around what we would describe as a gap site in the village of Alma Vii. It's a complete house site, probably about three-quarters of a hectare, with overgrown but previously impressive gardens and vegetable plots. Some time ago, the local Mayor asked if we would be interested in it, as it belonged to the City Hall. As always I replied yes, depends on the price, and that was the last I heard, until, whilst going through some notes, I came across mention of it. I had asked Alin at the start of the week if the Mayor had come up with a price yet. This morning's conversation ran:
" An' when I am asking the Mayor about that land there, he is saying to me, of course it's Mr. K's"
" Ok, but what's the price?"
" No price"
" No Alin, I don't want to commit to it until I know the price."
" No no Mr. K, there is no price." Slight pause.
" Alin, I'm not buying it if I don't know the price."
" Mr. K, there is no price. He gives it to you." Long pause.
" Ok, he gives it to me - but for how much?"
" No price." Longer pause.
" Do you mean he is giving me that piece of land for nothing?"
" Yes yes, definitely."
" Nothing? Free?"
" Yes yes, no price"
" But what about the City Council?"
" No the Mayor he say Mr. K want that land and they all vote to give it to you for free."
Not too sure what this will actually cost in the long run - at the very least quite a few extremely expensive meals ( for Romania anyway). And some pretty sore heads too.
I've spent much more time on the phone to Alin, which is always interesting, because for some reason his English deteriorates. I spent some time discussing the " plugging" he was ordering on a field. I didn't wish to show my ignorance by saying I had no idea what this was. Fortunately, as the conversation went on, a light flashed on and I was able to discuss the " ploughing" with some understanding.
The other thing he insists on discussing are the " inheritage" issues some of the land vendors have, which usually involve a trip to Sibiu to the Land Court to get yet another stamp.And unlike English, where the plural of sheep is sheep, in Romania, the plural of sheep is " sheeps". I am particularly fond of the " little baby sheeps" that are presently being born, especially when the "shepherding man" has had to protect them from the " teeth-eating wolfies". Strange diet for a wolf if you ask me. Apart from anything else, I'm sure the " wolfies" are just there so the shepherd can keep a few of the baby sheeps for himself ( " So terrible Mr.K, the wolfies are teeth-eating them." Hmmm)
Today's particular conversation revolved around what we would describe as a gap site in the village of Alma Vii. It's a complete house site, probably about three-quarters of a hectare, with overgrown but previously impressive gardens and vegetable plots. Some time ago, the local Mayor asked if we would be interested in it, as it belonged to the City Hall. As always I replied yes, depends on the price, and that was the last I heard, until, whilst going through some notes, I came across mention of it. I had asked Alin at the start of the week if the Mayor had come up with a price yet. This morning's conversation ran:
" An' when I am asking the Mayor about that land there, he is saying to me, of course it's Mr. K's"
" Ok, but what's the price?"
" No price"
" No Alin, I don't want to commit to it until I know the price."
" No no Mr. K, there is no price." Slight pause.
" Alin, I'm not buying it if I don't know the price."
" Mr. K, there is no price. He gives it to you." Long pause.
" Ok, he gives it to me - but for how much?"
" No price." Longer pause.
" Do you mean he is giving me that piece of land for nothing?"
" Yes yes, definitely."
" Nothing? Free?"
" Yes yes, no price"
" But what about the City Council?"
" No the Mayor he say Mr. K want that land and they all vote to give it to you for free."
Not too sure what this will actually cost in the long run - at the very least quite a few extremely expensive meals ( for Romania anyway). And some pretty sore heads too.
Friday, December 19, 2008
Births....
Today is the old folks Christmas lunch. There will be about 400 of them, and I am an honorary member of their association. I have to make a short speech in Romanian, which I have had Alin translate and I have then phoneticised ( if you get my drift.) I will only be saying enjoy the food and drink, keep warm, have a happy Christmas ( phonetically Cratchiune ferrychit) and New Year.
Buying land continues to throw up mistakes made nearly 20 years ago when it was returned from the State to the original owners. A transaction ended in the bin yesterday because the same piece of land in theory belonged to two different people - though everyone knows it belongs to Mrs A. The land court in Sibiu is one of the busiest in Romania, mostly rubber stamping decisions taken at city hall level by the Mayors and endorsed by them.
Yesterday's transaction had an unexpected bonus. The lady in question had not allowed anyone to see the land certificates before getting to the Notary's office - the lovely Ioanna ( Joanna) is now pregnant - so we had no idea there was a problem until the title was checked against the cadastral plan.
On the other hand, she also owned two adjoining pieces of land that bracketed the bit she had agreed to sell to us, but had never mentioned. Would she in the meantime sell these to us whilst the other piece was sorted out?
"Oh I didn't know they would be of interest to you. How much?"
So despite the fact that we are known to be buying all the land in this area, it never occured to her that these two strategic pieces would be of interest. Sigh.
Anyway the deed was done, and Alin and I made our way to the house of another lady who has been very helpful in identifying land for sale and its owners.
No sooner were we inside than the door was flung open and another elderly lady envelopped me in her ample bosom.
This lady was living with a man ( not married) and so had no standing in terms of dealing with his property. Last summer she had negotiated the sale of some land to us, only for it to fall apart when it was discovered that their daughter, living and working in Spain, had put an inhibition on the sale of land without her permission. This isn't as devious as it sounds - it's partly a tax avoidance measure.
Now the daughter was home for Christmas and the sale was on again - but it had to be done NOW as they were all going to visit family in Bucharest TONIGHT! So we all trooped back to Ioanna and did what was required and the money changed hands in time for Christmas.
Alin got the confirmation today that he and Andrea his wife are going to have a baby. I know I'm a dinosaur, but he seems far too young to be a father at 33.
I was 28 and a man of gavitas and demeanour when the first Miss Lear graced us with her presence.
But that's different of course.
Buying land continues to throw up mistakes made nearly 20 years ago when it was returned from the State to the original owners. A transaction ended in the bin yesterday because the same piece of land in theory belonged to two different people - though everyone knows it belongs to Mrs A. The land court in Sibiu is one of the busiest in Romania, mostly rubber stamping decisions taken at city hall level by the Mayors and endorsed by them.
Yesterday's transaction had an unexpected bonus. The lady in question had not allowed anyone to see the land certificates before getting to the Notary's office - the lovely Ioanna ( Joanna) is now pregnant - so we had no idea there was a problem until the title was checked against the cadastral plan.
On the other hand, she also owned two adjoining pieces of land that bracketed the bit she had agreed to sell to us, but had never mentioned. Would she in the meantime sell these to us whilst the other piece was sorted out?
"Oh I didn't know they would be of interest to you. How much?"
So despite the fact that we are known to be buying all the land in this area, it never occured to her that these two strategic pieces would be of interest. Sigh.
Anyway the deed was done, and Alin and I made our way to the house of another lady who has been very helpful in identifying land for sale and its owners.
No sooner were we inside than the door was flung open and another elderly lady envelopped me in her ample bosom.
This lady was living with a man ( not married) and so had no standing in terms of dealing with his property. Last summer she had negotiated the sale of some land to us, only for it to fall apart when it was discovered that their daughter, living and working in Spain, had put an inhibition on the sale of land without her permission. This isn't as devious as it sounds - it's partly a tax avoidance measure.
Now the daughter was home for Christmas and the sale was on again - but it had to be done NOW as they were all going to visit family in Bucharest TONIGHT! So we all trooped back to Ioanna and did what was required and the money changed hands in time for Christmas.
Alin got the confirmation today that he and Andrea his wife are going to have a baby. I know I'm a dinosaur, but he seems far too young to be a father at 33.
I was 28 and a man of gavitas and demeanour when the first Miss Lear graced us with her presence.
But that's different of course.
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