In a rather last-minute development, my daughter and I decided to accompany my husband on one of his trips to Southern California. So we're here now for what will be two weeks in Orange County and one week in Arizona. My husband has an assignment here in OC so he's working every day, but we're only 15 minutes from my mom's house. This means my daughter also gets to spend some quality grandparent time.
We arrived late Friday night. Our flight was an hour late leaving Copenhagen after an aborted take-off. That was a first for me, but luckily they were able to get the problem fixed quickly. We arrived an hour late in Toronto which made for a very hectic connection. Everyone connecting to the US had to pick up their bags, go through customs, and recheck their bags. This was quite a challenge because there was only half a baggage carousel in a very small room and all the forms were in French. I can't really imagine how they expect Americans to do paperwork in French without perjuring themselves. The personnel at the airport were quite helpful, so we somehow made the connection in time. They then held the flight for half an hour to wait for the other 30 people who were trying to make the same connection.
Saturday was spent with my mom. In the afternoon, the two of us did a little shopping at Target. I think Target is the store that I miss the most. Sunday was spent with my dad. He was only available in the evening, so my husband went junkyarding in the morning. They didn't allow kids under 16 years into the junkyard, so my daughter and I spent the day at the mall. My daughter didn't really need much by the way of clothes, but there were so many bargains that were hard to resist. I think the fantastic sales are a sign of the economy. Even with the deals, the parking lot at the mall was half empty on a Sunday afternoon. We had a nice dinner at the West Buffet in Oceanside, a huge Chinese buffet.
On Monday, I spent two hours at the DMV getting my drivers license renewed. Everyone tells horror stories about the DMV, especially after the budget cuts in California, but I thought it was actually quite impressive, especially considering how many people were also there. I also met with some old friends that I hadn't seen in years. How did we get so old on the outside and yet there still is so much on the inside that I recognize from the dear friends of 20+ years ago.
On Tuesday, I went down to San Diego to visit another dear friend, and we went shopping. I got several of the things I was looking for, and we had a great time catching up.
By Wednesday, I really needed to get some work done, and I did some laundry at my mom's house. In the afternoon, I picked up my brother-in-law who flew in from Denver to visit with us. Unfortunately my husband was working all day and had a business dinner too.
On Thursday, I went to Disneyland with my brother-in-law and daughter. She'd been to Disneyland a couple of years ago with her grandmother, but it was a completely different experience this time. Instead of Small World and Princesses, it was roller coasters. I worried that she might find large indoor (in the dark) roller coasters upsetting, but not at all. We eased into it with Pirates of the Caribbean, and she wasn't scared at all. Next was the Matterhorn. She screamed her head off, but the screams ended in giggles. "That was awesome, can we do it again?" Then we did the Toy Story ride and Autopia. We did a lot of walking to take advantage of the Fast Passes. We also did the Jungle Boats and Big Thunder Mountain, then it was back to Space Mountain. I haven't been to Disneyland in almost 20 years, and Space Mountain is one of the things that has changed. It's much smoother now, but also darker so you can't see the tracks at all. I got rather motion sick, and so did my brother-in-law. No matter how much my daughter begged, we were not inclined to take her on that one again. By lunchtime it was quite hot, so we ate in one of the air conditioned cafeteria style restaurants. It was expensive, but it was a real meal and a welcome break from the heat. After lunch we did Splash Mountain. This was the only time we stood in an hour-long line. By now, it was 98 F (37 C) and relatively humid for California. I was impressed that my daughter managed to keep her mood up. We had a good time and got thoroughly soaked. The Haunted Mansion was the only thing that my daughter found scary. She even liked the Indiana Jones ride (which also made me sick). It was too hot to stand in the sun and watch the parade, so we went for ice cream instead. In all, we were there for 9 hours.
On Friday we took it relatively easy and did a little shopping, then in the afternoon, my husband could finally stop working, so he and his brother took our daughter to Disney's California Adventure. I've never been there, but I figured it was good for him to do something fun. I was also a little apprehensive about doing a bunch of roller coasters. Would I get motion sick again? I used to love roller coasters, and only got sick from spinning rides. It's a bummer that roller coasters don't feel that fun anymore.
Tomorrow: Sea World with more friends from San Diego. Then it's off to Lake Powell (Arizona) via Las Vegas.
Showing posts with label memories. Show all posts
Showing posts with label memories. Show all posts
Tuesday, July 13, 2010
Saturday, May 29, 2010
Budapest, day 5: Communist Budapest
When I was young, I read a lot of spy novels. I loved Tom Clancy, Fredrick Forsyth, Robert Ludlum and such, and I thought it would be really cool to be a spy. (I also thought it would be really cool to be nuclear physicist, but that's another story.) I was practical enough to realize that I lacked the people skills and linguistic talent necessary to be a good field agent, but I did have a talent for going unnoticed. So while I prepared for the practical career of biochemist/molecular biologist, I also took classes in modern history (WWII and after), comparative government, and international relations--just in case. This was the 80's, so it was all about the Cold War. When the cold war suddenly ended, my interest in spies was relegated to the occasional Tom Clancy novel.
This trip to Eastern Europe did dust off my interest in the Cold War, and I hoped to meet somebody who remembered those times (and who spoke English and was willing to talk about it). When I discovered on the internet that there was a free walking tour dedicated to Communist Budapest, I knew that would be just my thing. The majority of participants on the tour were students, too young to remember the Cold War, but the guide was only 3 years younger than me. She had even lived in Sweden for a couple of years as a child, so she had a perspective on life in Budapest that may have been lacking in others her age.
As we walked through Budapest, she talked a lot about history, told some amusing anecdotes , and pointed out examples of communist era architecture. She showed us the former police headquarters, now a luxury hotel. We visited the last Soviet monument in Budapest, dedicated to the Soviets who died while "liberating" Budapest from the Germans. There were once many communist monuments and statues in Budapest, but many were destroyed with the fall of communism, and the others were exiled to a park outside of town.
In short, Hungarian history is all about being occupied. They sided with the Germans in WWI and lost 70% of their territory. They sided with the Germans again in WWII because they believed they would regain that territory. When things started going poorly for the Germans, they tired to break the alliance, and ended up occupied by the Germans instead. At the end of the war, the Germans retreated, trashing Budapest's infrastructure (most notably destroying all the bridges between Buda and Pest) to hinder the advance of the Red Army.
The Soviet occupiers promptly set up a puppet government in Budapest, and Hungary became a communist state. Those out of work after the war were quickly put to work rebuilding, so damage from WWII is not apparent. Housing was in short supply, so large buildings with small apartments were thrown together as fast as they could, but after the initial building boom, the financial realities kicked in, and maintenance was lacking.
The 1950s was all about Totalitarianism in Hungary. When Stalin died in 1953, people hoped things would lighten up a bit, and in 1956 the people of Budapest revolted. The revolt was crushed with Soviet tanks. Our guide's grandfather survived by hiding under the bodies of fellow protesters. Her father was able to sprint to safety as he saw a tank taking aim. Most families in Budapest have similar stories. In some parts of town, bullet holes from 1956 are still visible.
The national debt increased steadily over the years. In an attempt to raise money, Hungary became a tourist destination for the rest of Eastern Europe. In the 60s, East and West German families could reunite for vacations in Hungary.
Things were still very strict in the 1960s. "If you're not with us, you're against us," was the motto, and no dissent was tolerated, even in private. Neighbors spied on neighbors, and possible troublemakers were jailed. In the 1970's things began to loosen up a bit, and it was more, "If you're not with us, just don't be against us." Public dissent was not tolerated, but they were less concerned with what people did in the privacy of their own homes. Things became even more open in the 1980's. People did things like going to church and refusing to learn Russian in order to make political statements. People were still jailed for protesting, but there were music videos on TV and both Coca Cola and Pepsi (no McDonalds). Our guide had a bold English teacher who taught them George Orwell's Animal Farm and 1984 which previously had been banned.
Our guide was a Pioneer (like a Scout) as a child, and while this was once a precursor to being a Young Communist and then an adult member of the Communist Party, only two members of her class went on to join the Party. She modeled the red scarf of the Young Communists and showed the books that one had as a Pioneer and a Party member where one collected stamps through participation in Party activities. A full book showed your loyalty and could be advantageous in many ways.
In 1990, the communist regime fell. A new system was established based on the Swedish model, but the transition was far from painless. State owned assets were sold off, but corruption was rampant. People with the right connections got rich, but the State remained poor. Unemployment was and still is high. The average monthly income (after taxes) is only 500 Euros (~$400).
Before WWII, this building was the stock exchange. Communists, not having any need for a stock exchange, used this building for the government run TV station. As with much in Budapest, it is now in poor repair, but investors have stepped in, and it will soon be redone as a luxury hotel.
Our tour ended in a "ruin bar." Our guide explained that young people were allowed to run businesses or clubs in buildings which were awaiting renovation. While this doesn't seem very safe, I guess there are other advantages.
This trip to Eastern Europe did dust off my interest in the Cold War, and I hoped to meet somebody who remembered those times (and who spoke English and was willing to talk about it). When I discovered on the internet that there was a free walking tour dedicated to Communist Budapest, I knew that would be just my thing. The majority of participants on the tour were students, too young to remember the Cold War, but the guide was only 3 years younger than me. She had even lived in Sweden for a couple of years as a child, so she had a perspective on life in Budapest that may have been lacking in others her age.
As we walked through Budapest, she talked a lot about history, told some amusing anecdotes , and pointed out examples of communist era architecture. She showed us the former police headquarters, now a luxury hotel. We visited the last Soviet monument in Budapest, dedicated to the Soviets who died while "liberating" Budapest from the Germans. There were once many communist monuments and statues in Budapest, but many were destroyed with the fall of communism, and the others were exiled to a park outside of town.In short, Hungarian history is all about being occupied. They sided with the Germans in WWI and lost 70% of their territory. They sided with the Germans again in WWII because they believed they would regain that territory. When things started going poorly for the Germans, they tired to break the alliance, and ended up occupied by the Germans instead. At the end of the war, the Germans retreated, trashing Budapest's infrastructure (most notably destroying all the bridges between Buda and Pest) to hinder the advance of the Red Army.
The Soviet occupiers promptly set up a puppet government in Budapest, and Hungary became a communist state. Those out of work after the war were quickly put to work rebuilding, so damage from WWII is not apparent. Housing was in short supply, so large buildings with small apartments were thrown together as fast as they could, but after the initial building boom, the financial realities kicked in, and maintenance was lacking.
The 1950s was all about Totalitarianism in Hungary. When Stalin died in 1953, people hoped things would lighten up a bit, and in 1956 the people of Budapest revolted. The revolt was crushed with Soviet tanks. Our guide's grandfather survived by hiding under the bodies of fellow protesters. Her father was able to sprint to safety as he saw a tank taking aim. Most families in Budapest have similar stories. In some parts of town, bullet holes from 1956 are still visible.The national debt increased steadily over the years. In an attempt to raise money, Hungary became a tourist destination for the rest of Eastern Europe. In the 60s, East and West German families could reunite for vacations in Hungary.
Things were still very strict in the 1960s. "If you're not with us, you're against us," was the motto, and no dissent was tolerated, even in private. Neighbors spied on neighbors, and possible troublemakers were jailed. In the 1970's things began to loosen up a bit, and it was more, "If you're not with us, just don't be against us." Public dissent was not tolerated, but they were less concerned with what people did in the privacy of their own homes. Things became even more open in the 1980's. People did things like going to church and refusing to learn Russian in order to make political statements. People were still jailed for protesting, but there were music videos on TV and both Coca Cola and Pepsi (no McDonalds). Our guide had a bold English teacher who taught them George Orwell's Animal Farm and 1984 which previously had been banned.
Our guide was a Pioneer (like a Scout) as a child, and while this was once a precursor to being a Young Communist and then an adult member of the Communist Party, only two members of her class went on to join the Party. She modeled the red scarf of the Young Communists and showed the books that one had as a Pioneer and a Party member where one collected stamps through participation in Party activities. A full book showed your loyalty and could be advantageous in many ways.
In 1990, the communist regime fell. A new system was established based on the Swedish model, but the transition was far from painless. State owned assets were sold off, but corruption was rampant. People with the right connections got rich, but the State remained poor. Unemployment was and still is high. The average monthly income (after taxes) is only 500 Euros (~$400).
Before WWII, this building was the stock exchange. Communists, not having any need for a stock exchange, used this building for the government run TV station. As with much in Budapest, it is now in poor repair, but investors have stepped in, and it will soon be redone as a luxury hotel.Our tour ended in a "ruin bar." Our guide explained that young people were allowed to run businesses or clubs in buildings which were awaiting renovation. While this doesn't seem very safe, I guess there are other advantages.
Friday, April 23, 2010
April Showers and April Flowers
Spring has come slowly this year. The pile of snow that we've plowed off the courtyard, which was once 4 meters high, finally disappeared on April 11. We've had a few snow flurries this week, so it there was snow on the ground for a while, but not enough for complete coverage, and it melted the next day. We had one day in March with really lovely spring weather and temperatures in the teens/60s F (and I finally posted the pictures that went with that post), but since then, it's gone back to being rather cold and windy. I remember lying in the grass and basking in the sun while photographing spring flowers last year. So even though it's been at least intermittently sunny, I've chosen to bring my daffodils in to photograph this year.
There are some normal/modern daffodils in the garden just outside the kitchen window that have been here since we moved in, but in the forest by our house, there is a sea of seemingly wild daffodils. We heard from someone who grew up in this house, that when her parents were getting older and no longer wished to maintain the back yard, in the 70s, they put the bull in the yard. It ate most everything, but her mother rescued some of the daffodils and replanted them in the forest. It seems like every year there are more and more of them, and they are appearing all around the edge of the back yard now too.
These fluffy, double daffodils are now an unusual antique variety. A few years ago, a botanist from Lund came and dug some up for a collection of antique plants.
Despite the chilly temperature, the deer and elk are out nearly every evening. Last Sunday there were 12 elk that were particularly near the house. One of them even came into the back yard. I was happy that it didn't eat my daffodils, because then I might have had to scare them off, and I really don't want to do that. I have so many pictures of these creatures that I've made an effort not to photograph them every time I see them any more, but this time I couldn't resist.
There are some normal/modern daffodils in the garden just outside the kitchen window that have been here since we moved in, but in the forest by our house, there is a sea of seemingly wild daffodils. We heard from someone who grew up in this house, that when her parents were getting older and no longer wished to maintain the back yard, in the 70s, they put the bull in the yard. It ate most everything, but her mother rescued some of the daffodils and replanted them in the forest. It seems like every year there are more and more of them, and they are appearing all around the edge of the back yard now too.
These fluffy, double daffodils are now an unusual antique variety. A few years ago, a botanist from Lund came and dug some up for a collection of antique plants.Despite the chilly temperature, the deer and elk are out nearly every evening. Last Sunday there were 12 elk that were particularly near the house. One of them even came into the back yard. I was happy that it didn't eat my daffodils, because then I might have had to scare them off, and I really don't want to do that. I have so many pictures of these creatures that I've made an effort not to photograph them every time I see them any more, but this time I couldn't resist.
Saturday, February 13, 2010
An era has come to an end
(We interrupt my vacation summary for this breaking news....)
It's finally over. Our house in San Diego is finally sold. I'm relieved that this hellish process of selling the house, which has dragged on since August, is finally over. But I'm sad too. I feel bridges have been burned. The option of someday moving back to San Diego is more remote. It's not like we were planning on moving back, but when we left for the second time in 2006, we wanted to keep that option open.
Here's the recap: In 1998, we sold our house in the Clairemont area of San Diego and moved to Sweden. My husband had been working for a defense sub-contractor in SD and continued to do so remotely. He'd been with this company since they were only seven people, so it was kind of like family. In early 2003, his boss (the president of the company) was killed by terrorists in Kuwait. Several extended trips to SD followed, and my husband was encouraged to move back to fill the gap. A lot of effort went into finding the right house in SD, but when we found this one in the Poway area, we were sure it was the one we wanted. It was already in escrow, but they buyer was having problems coming up with the money, so we made a back-up offer at the asking price. The seller made an ultimatum that the first buyer couldn't meet, and the house was ours.
I loved that house--the floor plan with a guest suite downstairs, the convenient location, the view to both east and west, the nice neighborhood, the friendly neighbors, the good school district. It was a bargain because it had been a rental for years, but everything it needed, we could do ourselves. (That we never got around to doing a lot of these things is another story.)
We moved in fall 2003, and lived there until fall 2006 when we moved back to Sweden. During these years, we spent the summers (May through August) in Sweden. It was the best of both worlds in many ways. Unfortunately things didn't develop with my husband's career the way we'd expected. He worked incredibly long hours under stressful conditions until he burned out. It was then we decided to move back to Sweden full time. He didn't have a job in Sweden yet, and we weren't sure if he'd ever be able to find something as well-paying as he could in SD, so we decided to rent out the house instead of selling it. In retrospect, this was our second mistake.
Our first mistake was refinancing the house in the way that we did. The original purchase price of just under a half million dollars was a good price for the house, but we didn't qualify for a traditional loan (consultants based outside the US). This wasn't a problem because we had a mortgage broker who came highly recommended by several friends. This guy specialized in creative financing. We took two loans which we new were bad long term, with the plan of refinancing after a year or two. And so we did, and everything worked out fine. Our house had increased in value 20% the first year, so when we refinanced, we took out some funds to upgrade (exterior paint, insulated windows, new heater and air-conditioner). Unfortunately, we were talked into another bad loan--not quite as bad as the first, but we knew it would get ugly if we didn't refinance within a few years. Nobody expected the housing market to take a downturn. At worse, prices might level off. Seriously, who wouldn't want to live in San Diego?
Then the market did make that downturn, and it went from not being a good time to refinance, to being impossible to refinance. Our mortgage broker stopped returning calls and eventually disappeared entirely. In 2008, we tried to renegotiate our loan, but the bank was not interested. By the beginning of 2009, our income from rent covered only half of the mortgage payment. We wanted to sell, but for us to break even, the house would have to be priced considerably above market value. The tenants were uncooperative. The bank was uncooperative. The property manager was uncommunicative (turns out his wife had just miscarried their twins and was having serious medical problems, so I'll cut him some slack).
In May, I stopped making mortgage payments. In July, someone at the bank decided to return one of my calls, and I was sent paperwork to apply for a short sale. [In a short sale, the house is sold and the bank accepts that as payment in full, forgiving the rest of the debt. This generally gets the bank a lot more money than if the house was sold at auction, and it saves them the trouble of the foreclosure.] It took weeks for me to fill out all that paperwork, but I sent it back in August, along with several questions. We put the house on the market at market value. Because of our uncooperative tenants, we had no choice other than to use the property manager as the selling agent. He's a nice guy and all, but unfortunately not the best person for the job. In September, we got a form letter from the bank saying they'd put our application on hold because it was incomplete. They did not answer any of our questions or even say what they were missing. I finally found someone at the bank whom I could call, but it turned out she was clueless. I'd send in more and more papers, trying to guess what it was they wanted. We got offers on the house, and the property manager sent them to the bank, but the bank did not respond. Eventually the offers were withdrawn, and new offers were submitted, but still no response.
Finally, in the beginning of December, the property manager got a hold of somebody at the bank who wanted to make this work, and they accepted an offer. This person told me what information they were missing, and I was able to e-mail it to her within minutes. The bank wanted a quick escrow, and that was fine with me. We would have less of a tax penalty if we could get the deal done in 2009. And then, nothing for a couple weeks. I'd fooled myself into believing that people were doing their jobs and everything was moving along as it should.
Suddenly we were up against the foreclosure deadline,December 21, and the house was about to be auctioned off. The buyer had to fork over $10,000 to stop it, and they did. No worries, they said, this should all be done before Christmas. Except the escrow officer went on vacation, and nobody seemed to have anticipated this. Everything just stopped. Over Christmas, the bank got bought by another bank which now could force us to start over with everything if the deal in progress was not fulfilled. New deadline for the house being auctioned off, January 19th. On January 14th, we were told we needed to wire transfer $4000 immediately and get a bunch of papers notarized and sent back.
The money shouldn't have been a problem since I had enough in my bank in SD. But then it turned out that Wells Fargo was incapable of electronically transferring money to another bank within the US. They have an online-bill-pay thing, but with that, they generate a paper check and mail it. It also doesn't work if your bank account don't have a US address. Luckily my mom was able to come to the rescue and wire the money from her bank, and I would pay her back. Now notarization is something that is no longer done in Sweden, and for a US notary, I'd have to go to the embassy. That's expensive and a major pain, but luckily we were leaving for Miami on the 16th and took the papers with us. It turned out that finding a notary and FedEx on a Sunday in Miami was not all that difficult (see vacation day two for the story).
So now I actually got my hopes up and believed we would soon close escrow. What I didn't know was that the buyer's agent was a total idiot. He was supposed to have an appraisal done in the beginning of December. Somehow he'd forgotten to look at it or send it along. Now it turns out that the appraisal came in $15,000 under the offer. This means the buyer's loan would be $15,000 short, but he didn't understand that. There was not time to redo the appraisal, and the buyers couldn't scrape together another $15,000 in cash. My bank was not about to budge. After all this work, the only solution was for the agents to reduce their commissions or the whole deal would fall through. Apparently this took some time to negotiate. The January 19th deadline got extended to the 29th, and I expected to come home from Florida to news that escrow had closed. Silly me.
Somewhere along the line, someone had forgotten to mention that the buyer expected to be reimbursed for the $10,000 that they'd put up to stop the first auction. This didn't really surprise me. There had been reference to a $10,000 seller's contribution in the paperwork since mid-December, so I was kine of prepared for this. I thought I'd gotten lucky with having to pay only $4000. I'd assumed that we'd end up splitting the sum, but since nobody mentioned it, I'd hoped they were okay with it. So now it came down to me wiring $10,000 immediately or the whole thing would fall through. This was too much for me to ask my mom or anyone else for, and I new I wouldn't be able to get it out of Wells Fargo account. I had to skip an online meeting in order to drive to the bank in a snowstorm, but I was able to wire the money from Sweden. The original (clueless) contact person from the bank is involved again and threatening not to extend anymore. She'd rather let the whole thing fall apart than give people the time they need. I guess the only incompetence she tolerates is her own. Fortunately the other bank person outranks her, and cooler heads prevail. Then the buyer had to deliver a cashier's check, but it wasn't enough. So the buyer had to wire money, but they missed the deadline at their bank, so it took an extra day. Then there was some delay in their lender funding. I can no longer imagine what. I believe everything that could possibly be screwed up has already been screwed up at least twice. Does anybody know what they're doing?
Finally, last night, they told me that the sale had been recorded. It's over. I'm relieved, but yet it's not all good. My bridges are burned. This transaction has ruined my good credit rating, and not living in the US, it will be difficult to improve it. Without good credit, moving back to the US would be much harder.
It's finally over. Our house in San Diego is finally sold. I'm relieved that this hellish process of selling the house, which has dragged on since August, is finally over. But I'm sad too. I feel bridges have been burned. The option of someday moving back to San Diego is more remote. It's not like we were planning on moving back, but when we left for the second time in 2006, we wanted to keep that option open.
Here's the recap: In 1998, we sold our house in the Clairemont area of San Diego and moved to Sweden. My husband had been working for a defense sub-contractor in SD and continued to do so remotely. He'd been with this company since they were only seven people, so it was kind of like family. In early 2003, his boss (the president of the company) was killed by terrorists in Kuwait. Several extended trips to SD followed, and my husband was encouraged to move back to fill the gap. A lot of effort went into finding the right house in SD, but when we found this one in the Poway area, we were sure it was the one we wanted. It was already in escrow, but they buyer was having problems coming up with the money, so we made a back-up offer at the asking price. The seller made an ultimatum that the first buyer couldn't meet, and the house was ours.
I loved that house--the floor plan with a guest suite downstairs, the convenient location, the view to both east and west, the nice neighborhood, the friendly neighbors, the good school district. It was a bargain because it had been a rental for years, but everything it needed, we could do ourselves. (That we never got around to doing a lot of these things is another story.)We moved in fall 2003, and lived there until fall 2006 when we moved back to Sweden. During these years, we spent the summers (May through August) in Sweden. It was the best of both worlds in many ways. Unfortunately things didn't develop with my husband's career the way we'd expected. He worked incredibly long hours under stressful conditions until he burned out. It was then we decided to move back to Sweden full time. He didn't have a job in Sweden yet, and we weren't sure if he'd ever be able to find something as well-paying as he could in SD, so we decided to rent out the house instead of selling it. In retrospect, this was our second mistake.
Our first mistake was refinancing the house in the way that we did. The original purchase price of just under a half million dollars was a good price for the house, but we didn't qualify for a traditional loan (consultants based outside the US). This wasn't a problem because we had a mortgage broker who came highly recommended by several friends. This guy specialized in creative financing. We took two loans which we new were bad long term, with the plan of refinancing after a year or two. And so we did, and everything worked out fine. Our house had increased in value 20% the first year, so when we refinanced, we took out some funds to upgrade (exterior paint, insulated windows, new heater and air-conditioner). Unfortunately, we were talked into another bad loan--not quite as bad as the first, but we knew it would get ugly if we didn't refinance within a few years. Nobody expected the housing market to take a downturn. At worse, prices might level off. Seriously, who wouldn't want to live in San Diego?
Then the market did make that downturn, and it went from not being a good time to refinance, to being impossible to refinance. Our mortgage broker stopped returning calls and eventually disappeared entirely. In 2008, we tried to renegotiate our loan, but the bank was not interested. By the beginning of 2009, our income from rent covered only half of the mortgage payment. We wanted to sell, but for us to break even, the house would have to be priced considerably above market value. The tenants were uncooperative. The bank was uncooperative. The property manager was uncommunicative (turns out his wife had just miscarried their twins and was having serious medical problems, so I'll cut him some slack).
In May, I stopped making mortgage payments. In July, someone at the bank decided to return one of my calls, and I was sent paperwork to apply for a short sale. [In a short sale, the house is sold and the bank accepts that as payment in full, forgiving the rest of the debt. This generally gets the bank a lot more money than if the house was sold at auction, and it saves them the trouble of the foreclosure.] It took weeks for me to fill out all that paperwork, but I sent it back in August, along with several questions. We put the house on the market at market value. Because of our uncooperative tenants, we had no choice other than to use the property manager as the selling agent. He's a nice guy and all, but unfortunately not the best person for the job. In September, we got a form letter from the bank saying they'd put our application on hold because it was incomplete. They did not answer any of our questions or even say what they were missing. I finally found someone at the bank whom I could call, but it turned out she was clueless. I'd send in more and more papers, trying to guess what it was they wanted. We got offers on the house, and the property manager sent them to the bank, but the bank did not respond. Eventually the offers were withdrawn, and new offers were submitted, but still no response.
Finally, in the beginning of December, the property manager got a hold of somebody at the bank who wanted to make this work, and they accepted an offer. This person told me what information they were missing, and I was able to e-mail it to her within minutes. The bank wanted a quick escrow, and that was fine with me. We would have less of a tax penalty if we could get the deal done in 2009. And then, nothing for a couple weeks. I'd fooled myself into believing that people were doing their jobs and everything was moving along as it should.
Suddenly we were up against the foreclosure deadline,December 21, and the house was about to be auctioned off. The buyer had to fork over $10,000 to stop it, and they did. No worries, they said, this should all be done before Christmas. Except the escrow officer went on vacation, and nobody seemed to have anticipated this. Everything just stopped. Over Christmas, the bank got bought by another bank which now could force us to start over with everything if the deal in progress was not fulfilled. New deadline for the house being auctioned off, January 19th. On January 14th, we were told we needed to wire transfer $4000 immediately and get a bunch of papers notarized and sent back.
The money shouldn't have been a problem since I had enough in my bank in SD. But then it turned out that Wells Fargo was incapable of electronically transferring money to another bank within the US. They have an online-bill-pay thing, but with that, they generate a paper check and mail it. It also doesn't work if your bank account don't have a US address. Luckily my mom was able to come to the rescue and wire the money from her bank, and I would pay her back. Now notarization is something that is no longer done in Sweden, and for a US notary, I'd have to go to the embassy. That's expensive and a major pain, but luckily we were leaving for Miami on the 16th and took the papers with us. It turned out that finding a notary and FedEx on a Sunday in Miami was not all that difficult (see vacation day two for the story).
So now I actually got my hopes up and believed we would soon close escrow. What I didn't know was that the buyer's agent was a total idiot. He was supposed to have an appraisal done in the beginning of December. Somehow he'd forgotten to look at it or send it along. Now it turns out that the appraisal came in $15,000 under the offer. This means the buyer's loan would be $15,000 short, but he didn't understand that. There was not time to redo the appraisal, and the buyers couldn't scrape together another $15,000 in cash. My bank was not about to budge. After all this work, the only solution was for the agents to reduce their commissions or the whole deal would fall through. Apparently this took some time to negotiate. The January 19th deadline got extended to the 29th, and I expected to come home from Florida to news that escrow had closed. Silly me.
Somewhere along the line, someone had forgotten to mention that the buyer expected to be reimbursed for the $10,000 that they'd put up to stop the first auction. This didn't really surprise me. There had been reference to a $10,000 seller's contribution in the paperwork since mid-December, so I was kine of prepared for this. I thought I'd gotten lucky with having to pay only $4000. I'd assumed that we'd end up splitting the sum, but since nobody mentioned it, I'd hoped they were okay with it. So now it came down to me wiring $10,000 immediately or the whole thing would fall through. This was too much for me to ask my mom or anyone else for, and I new I wouldn't be able to get it out of Wells Fargo account. I had to skip an online meeting in order to drive to the bank in a snowstorm, but I was able to wire the money from Sweden. The original (clueless) contact person from the bank is involved again and threatening not to extend anymore. She'd rather let the whole thing fall apart than give people the time they need. I guess the only incompetence she tolerates is her own. Fortunately the other bank person outranks her, and cooler heads prevail. Then the buyer had to deliver a cashier's check, but it wasn't enough. So the buyer had to wire money, but they missed the deadline at their bank, so it took an extra day. Then there was some delay in their lender funding. I can no longer imagine what. I believe everything that could possibly be screwed up has already been screwed up at least twice. Does anybody know what they're doing?
Finally, last night, they told me that the sale had been recorded. It's over. I'm relieved, but yet it's not all good. My bridges are burned. This transaction has ruined my good credit rating, and not living in the US, it will be difficult to improve it. Without good credit, moving back to the US would be much harder.
Sunday, November 8, 2009
The wonders of the internet
Yesterday I received a comment on a post I made last month about my old violin. I was feeling sentimental as I wrote it, and thought that maybe there was a slight chance I'd eventually find the violin's current owner. I never imagined that the violin's original owner, for whom it was made by her uncle Lloyd, would write to me. But that's what happened. So for anyone who read my original post, you might want to look back there now, and read the comments. I wonder how she happened to find my post, and how she felt about that. I hope she writes again. I'm reminded of the movie, the Red Violin, and I'd love to know more of this violin's story.
Wednesday, September 2, 2009
To Margaret Ann Cole with love Uncle Lloyd
That's what was written on the inside of my violin. I always thought it was very special because it was hand made even if it really wasn't the world's greatest instrument. I started playing the violin in third grade, but I don't remember when my parents bought me this violin. I know I had it with me to summer camp which started for me the summer after seventh grade and continued every summer through high school.
I stopped playing the violin regularly after high school. I wasn't good enough to play in the La Jolla Symphony, and I wasn't dedicated enough to play in college (where you didn't have to be a music major, but you did have to take a music theory class that was 5 days a week at 8 AM--not compatible with either my academic schedule or my sleep schedule.) By the time we moved to Sweden, I hadn't played in about 10 years. I didn't have time to deal with selling it, so I gave it back to my mom to sell.
Now I wonder whatever became of it. Who has it now? Did it get refinished, or does it still have the melt marks in the varnish from when it accidentally got left in the sun at summer camp?
This has been on my mind because today I rented two violins: one for me, and a 1/4 sized one for my daughter. She started music lessons last week and is really excited about playing the violin. I hope she's not too disappointed to discover that it's not easy to fiddle and dance at the same time like the girl in Celtic Woman. I feel like this in when I start living vicariously through her. Maybe if she keeps it up, she'll go to music camp someday too.
I stopped playing the violin regularly after high school. I wasn't good enough to play in the La Jolla Symphony, and I wasn't dedicated enough to play in college (where you didn't have to be a music major, but you did have to take a music theory class that was 5 days a week at 8 AM--not compatible with either my academic schedule or my sleep schedule.) By the time we moved to Sweden, I hadn't played in about 10 years. I didn't have time to deal with selling it, so I gave it back to my mom to sell.
Now I wonder whatever became of it. Who has it now? Did it get refinished, or does it still have the melt marks in the varnish from when it accidentally got left in the sun at summer camp?
This has been on my mind because today I rented two violins: one for me, and a 1/4 sized one for my daughter. She started music lessons last week and is really excited about playing the violin. I hope she's not too disappointed to discover that it's not easy to fiddle and dance at the same time like the girl in Celtic Woman. I feel like this in when I start living vicariously through her. Maybe if she keeps it up, she'll go to music camp someday too.
Saturday, April 11, 2009
Easter Art Show
In this part of Sweden, artists open their homes or galleries to the public every Easter, and people drive around and look at art. When we first moved here, we spent a phenomenal amount of time creating a gallery specifically for this occasion in one of our barns. This building was originally a machine hall, but in later years it was used for ducks, doves, and horses. By the time we got it, all but one of the windows was broken and boarded up, and the interior was filled with years worth of mostly horse shit. We tore down the horse boxes, used shovels to scrape shit off the walls and floors, pressure washed the walls and floors, and whitewashed or painted the walls white. It took an average of 7 coats, more where it had been painted black or brown. We redid the electrics (bare copper wire wasn't our thing) and installed halogen track lighting. Eventually the place looked really good.
The first year, I think it was 2000, I shared the gallery with a good friend from Holland who did mostly sculpture with natural materials. I showed mostly local nature photos and some greeting cards where I'd glued on a photo. We hardly sold anything, but it looked really good, and we enjoyed a lot of positive feedback from the few people who found their way to us.
The next year, my friend was pregnant, so I used my only contact in the art industry who paired me up with a couple of "real" artists from Malmö who were looking for a place to show their stuff. One did brightly colored abstract oil paintings, the other did small sculptures of torsos. They were both complete jerks who resented being exiled to the middle of nowhere. The best thing about these shows for me is talking to the guests. They made a point of ignoring people to the extent that they didn't even say hi. I was also so far beneath them that I wasn't worth speaking too. Needless to say, I didn't have much fun that year, and I didn't sell much either.
The following years, I was pregnant and then busy with a small child, then in California at this time of year. In 2007 I started doing the Easter shows again. I shared the gallery with a photographer who was at least really good company. I showed pictures with a desert theme, the naked landscape. The year after that, he was busy having just started his own framing business, so I shared with my friend from Holland again. Instead of art, she moved in stuff from her new interior decorating shop. I showed pictures with a local theme. The gallery looked fantastic, but we had this major snow storm, so pretty much nobody came.
This year I'm sharing the gallery with a photographer who specializes in a couple of techniques from the very early days of photography, and makes one-of-a-kind very arty pieces. I'm showing more modern stuff, often in collage form, printed on canvas for very dramatic effect and saturated colors. Some of the pictures are from Hong Kong and Guilin, others from Montreal. Yesterday the weather was fantastic, and it's predicted to be sunny for the entire long weekend. We had over 50 guests, many of whom are people that I know, which made it extra nice. Unfortunately, they didn't buy much, just a few cards and a few of my daughter's creations with melted plastic beads. We've got three more days of this, so I hope we continue to have a lot of visitors, and that they're in the art buying mood.
The first year, I think it was 2000, I shared the gallery with a good friend from Holland who did mostly sculpture with natural materials. I showed mostly local nature photos and some greeting cards where I'd glued on a photo. We hardly sold anything, but it looked really good, and we enjoyed a lot of positive feedback from the few people who found their way to us.
The next year, my friend was pregnant, so I used my only contact in the art industry who paired me up with a couple of "real" artists from Malmö who were looking for a place to show their stuff. One did brightly colored abstract oil paintings, the other did small sculptures of torsos. They were both complete jerks who resented being exiled to the middle of nowhere. The best thing about these shows for me is talking to the guests. They made a point of ignoring people to the extent that they didn't even say hi. I was also so far beneath them that I wasn't worth speaking too. Needless to say, I didn't have much fun that year, and I didn't sell much either.
The following years, I was pregnant and then busy with a small child, then in California at this time of year. In 2007 I started doing the Easter shows again. I shared the gallery with a photographer who was at least really good company. I showed pictures with a desert theme, the naked landscape. The year after that, he was busy having just started his own framing business, so I shared with my friend from Holland again. Instead of art, she moved in stuff from her new interior decorating shop. I showed pictures with a local theme. The gallery looked fantastic, but we had this major snow storm, so pretty much nobody came.
This year I'm sharing the gallery with a photographer who specializes in a couple of techniques from the very early days of photography, and makes one-of-a-kind very arty pieces. I'm showing more modern stuff, often in collage form, printed on canvas for very dramatic effect and saturated colors. Some of the pictures are from Hong Kong and Guilin, others from Montreal. Yesterday the weather was fantastic, and it's predicted to be sunny for the entire long weekend. We had over 50 guests, many of whom are people that I know, which made it extra nice. Unfortunately, they didn't buy much, just a few cards and a few of my daughter's creations with melted plastic beads. We've got three more days of this, so I hope we continue to have a lot of visitors, and that they're in the art buying mood.
Sunday, September 14, 2008
Remembering September 12th
The horrors of the previous day dominated conversation at my workplace as I imagine they did all around the world. As we sat in our lunchroom drinking our coffee (or tea in my case), a colleague from another department stopped by to drop something off. I don't remember the specifics leading up to this, but this person said, "Those arrogant Americans, they deserved it." I was speechless, a condition I've regretted ever since. I suppose I was waiting for my Swedish co-workers to say something, but nobody did. A few looked a bit uncomfortable, but the others didn't react as if this was anything out of the ordinary. So there I was, surrounded by people I thought were my friends, and I've never felt more out of place.
I spent a lot of my time trying to verify that everyone I knew was alright. As it turned out, I did not know any of the victims. I was really worried about my friend who was a pilot for American Airlines who frequently flew between LA and New York. As it turns out, he was preparing for take off from LA when air traffic was halted. Good friends had flown through New York the day before. They recalled looking down at the twin towers as they were leaving and commenting that they really should spend some time to see the WTC next time they were there. Another good friend sat in an airplane in Denver wondering why his flight home from vacation wasn't allowed to take off.
Things were a bit different for my husband. He was away on business at a US army base in Germany together with his American co-workers for a defense subcontractor. The base went into lock down as soon as they received the news, so they were all stuck in the one building until well into the evening. When they returned the next morning, the now heavily armed guards at the gate laughed when they saw his Swedish passport. Only critical personnel were being allowed on base, and that couldn't possibly include foreigners. Eventually they were persuaded to check the list, and much to their surprise, he was on it (the Coca-cola delivery guy who came at this time to fill the vending machines was not--probably a big mistake). He was still one of the guys, but in retrospect, that was the beginning of the end. It became increasingly difficult to be a foreigner in the defense industry, no matter how valuable his skills were.
Weeks earlier I had ordered plane tickets to spend a long weekend with my husband and his co-workers in Germany. So I got to experience first hand the joys of air travel just a few days later.
I spent a lot of my time trying to verify that everyone I knew was alright. As it turned out, I did not know any of the victims. I was really worried about my friend who was a pilot for American Airlines who frequently flew between LA and New York. As it turns out, he was preparing for take off from LA when air traffic was halted. Good friends had flown through New York the day before. They recalled looking down at the twin towers as they were leaving and commenting that they really should spend some time to see the WTC next time they were there. Another good friend sat in an airplane in Denver wondering why his flight home from vacation wasn't allowed to take off.
Things were a bit different for my husband. He was away on business at a US army base in Germany together with his American co-workers for a defense subcontractor. The base went into lock down as soon as they received the news, so they were all stuck in the one building until well into the evening. When they returned the next morning, the now heavily armed guards at the gate laughed when they saw his Swedish passport. Only critical personnel were being allowed on base, and that couldn't possibly include foreigners. Eventually they were persuaded to check the list, and much to their surprise, he was on it (the Coca-cola delivery guy who came at this time to fill the vending machines was not--probably a big mistake). He was still one of the guys, but in retrospect, that was the beginning of the end. It became increasingly difficult to be a foreigner in the defense industry, no matter how valuable his skills were.
Weeks earlier I had ordered plane tickets to spend a long weekend with my husband and his co-workers in Germany. So I got to experience first hand the joys of air travel just a few days later.
Saturday, September 13, 2008
Remembering September 11th
For me, September 11th came and went like any other day this year. I might not have noticed it was the 11th at all if I hadn't looked at the calendar that evening to see which day was our cats' birthday (9/13). I read the local newspaper every day, and it does include a few pages of international news, but it's not often I catch the news on TV. We get only one radio station, and it's not worth listening to. So in many ways it's easy for me to be quite oblivious these days. It was not so seven years ago.
I remember I was at work in Malmo, and about 4:30 in the afternoon the guy in the office next to mine came in and said that his wife (who works at a newspaper) called to say that an airplane had crashed into the World Trade Center. I envisioned someone in a small private plane trying to go out with a bang and shrugged it off. I did find it odd however that my colleague and his wife found this so newsworthy. I looked around the building to see if anyone else had heard anything, but since most people leave at 4, there was nobody else. On my way home, I put on the radio in my car instead of listening to music. By the time I got home an hour later, I understood. I spent the evening switching back and forth between the 3 TV stations that we got with the phone in my hand. My husband was away on a business trip. So were my best friends. I eventually got a call from my husband, and I got through to my mom, but I was still very alone in a totally different way than I'd been the night before.
9/11 will be one of those defining moments for a generation. The type of thing that people will always remember where they were when they heard the news, like when Kennedy was shot. Sure, I remember where I was when Reagan was shot or when the space shuttle crashed, but 9/11 was more. In the days that followed, it changed the way I saw the world. It changed me. I'm pretty sure it changed the world.
To be continued...
I remember I was at work in Malmo, and about 4:30 in the afternoon the guy in the office next to mine came in and said that his wife (who works at a newspaper) called to say that an airplane had crashed into the World Trade Center. I envisioned someone in a small private plane trying to go out with a bang and shrugged it off. I did find it odd however that my colleague and his wife found this so newsworthy. I looked around the building to see if anyone else had heard anything, but since most people leave at 4, there was nobody else. On my way home, I put on the radio in my car instead of listening to music. By the time I got home an hour later, I understood. I spent the evening switching back and forth between the 3 TV stations that we got with the phone in my hand. My husband was away on a business trip. So were my best friends. I eventually got a call from my husband, and I got through to my mom, but I was still very alone in a totally different way than I'd been the night before.
9/11 will be one of those defining moments for a generation. The type of thing that people will always remember where they were when they heard the news, like when Kennedy was shot. Sure, I remember where I was when Reagan was shot or when the space shuttle crashed, but 9/11 was more. In the days that followed, it changed the way I saw the world. It changed me. I'm pretty sure it changed the world.
To be continued...
Friday, August 29, 2008
10 years
Ten years ago today I arrived in Sweden together with five cats, a large dog, and my best friend (at the time). My husband had already been here since June trying to get the house into a livable condition and building a quarantine for the animals in the barn. We had bought the farm over the internet. My husband's mother and her parents checked the place out and liked it, though they did say it needed some work. In retrospect, we should have taken the bank's advice when they offered to recommend a good demolition firm, but that's a long story in itself.
The trip itself was absolutely grueling, 29 hours door to door. There were all sorts of airline hassles because we were traveling with animals. Once in Sweden, the animals had to be checked out by the county vet and interred in the quarantine for 4 months. They were miserable, we were miserable, and of course, it was raining. The summer of 1998 is known as the summer that rained away because there really wasn't any summer weather--it went directly from spring to fall. Going from the San Diego summer to the Scanian fall was traumatic to say the least. My friend and I were to run the quarantine (with it's plethora of ridiculous rules) and go to community college to learn Swedish. Running the quarantine was a lot more than just taking care of the animals. We also had to burn the waste. This meant going to the forest to collect wood for the fire, and if you think dog poo and used cat litter are better for putting out a fire than keeping one going, you're right. And then there's the smell--let's not even go there. So after four months in quarantine and two more months in house arrest, my friend took her three cats and moved to Norway with a guy she met on the internet. We had been driving each other nuts since I moved in with her in June, so that was the end of our 11 year friendship.
That first fall and winter was probably the low point of my life. I was cold, damp, dark, and more alone than I could ever imagine even though my husband worked from home. The darkness and silence were unnerving. This was when I discovered I have tinnitus (ringing in my ears) and some hearing loss at a certain frequency. Eventually I did learn the language and made friends with some other foreigners. Now I think I'm beginning to make friends with some of the locals too. It's amazing how far I've come.
The trip itself was absolutely grueling, 29 hours door to door. There were all sorts of airline hassles because we were traveling with animals. Once in Sweden, the animals had to be checked out by the county vet and interred in the quarantine for 4 months. They were miserable, we were miserable, and of course, it was raining. The summer of 1998 is known as the summer that rained away because there really wasn't any summer weather--it went directly from spring to fall. Going from the San Diego summer to the Scanian fall was traumatic to say the least. My friend and I were to run the quarantine (with it's plethora of ridiculous rules) and go to community college to learn Swedish. Running the quarantine was a lot more than just taking care of the animals. We also had to burn the waste. This meant going to the forest to collect wood for the fire, and if you think dog poo and used cat litter are better for putting out a fire than keeping one going, you're right. And then there's the smell--let's not even go there. So after four months in quarantine and two more months in house arrest, my friend took her three cats and moved to Norway with a guy she met on the internet. We had been driving each other nuts since I moved in with her in June, so that was the end of our 11 year friendship.
That first fall and winter was probably the low point of my life. I was cold, damp, dark, and more alone than I could ever imagine even though my husband worked from home. The darkness and silence were unnerving. This was when I discovered I have tinnitus (ringing in my ears) and some hearing loss at a certain frequency. Eventually I did learn the language and made friends with some other foreigners. Now I think I'm beginning to make friends with some of the locals too. It's amazing how far I've come.
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