My childhood home – the place where my mother still resides – was simple and pleasant enough. It had three bedrooms which housed six people, and the one and a half baths proved to be more than adequate since my brothers were allergic to cleanliness. Like most American homes, it had all the necessities – a serviceable, but lackluster kitchen, a living room/dining room combo with a large picture window looking out over a front lawn sprinkled with dog poop, and a tiny family room with a fireplace. And, like so many other Hoosier homes, it was a standard ranch-style one-story brick house, in essence a nearly identical replica of its many cookie-cutter brethren.
An amazing Oh-Florence.com apartment with one heck of a view!
Now, don’t get me wrong, I LOVE the home I grew up in. It was and always will be home even though I now own one of my own. Yes, it was loving, yes it was warm and, yes, it was home, but a creative living space, it was not, despite my attempts to color it up with homemade macaroni art.
Nooks and crannies? Nada. Twisting staircases? Forget about it! Frescoed walls? Arched hallways? Dormers with window seats? Butlers’ pantries? Hidden passageways? Bay windows? Nope. Not a one.
So while my home provided all the love and comfort a girl could need, it wasn’t exactly inspiring on a creative level.
While most kids may give little thought to nooks and crannies, as a child, I was different. Buildings and boats fired my imagination, and I spent quite a bit of my childhood drooling over both and building models of each. I once owned so many dollhouses that my younger brothers threatened to line them up and
Oh-Paris apartment with the fireplace of my dreams. Hot dogs anyone?
recreate the great Chicago fire. When we visited downtown department stores, my siblings would run for the toy aisle. Me? I ran for the furniture. As an adolescent, I actually saved up my allowance to subscribe to House & Garden magazine and that one day a month when it arrived in the mailbox was my own private Christmas morning. Yeah, I was that weird.
And that mania hasn’t mellowed with age, oh no, quite the contrary! I actually have an inch-thick file of colored chip strips collected from various paint departments. I now subscribe to more decorator magazines than I have toes and fingers, and my husband has to pry me out of the kitchen display sections of home improvement stores with a crowbar. When we drive anywhere in the
This Oh-Florence apartment has a triangular-shaped terrace! Almost makes me wish I was better at geometry.
dark, I peer at passing houses in hopes that I may spy a staircase or built-in bookcase through the windows. Naked people doing God knows what in there? Who cares! I want to see their walls!
When my children were little, I gave thanks for Halloween because it meant trick-or-treating in the oldest neighborhood dripping with big turn-of-the-century mansions left over from a more prosperous age. Thus while my kiddies begged for candy at strange door after strange door, I peeked into one architectural beauty after another, here a Queen Anne, there a Victorian, everywhere a Gothic. It was heaven.
So imagine my joy, my glee, when I stumbled upon Oh!
Headquartered out of Barcelona,Spain, Oh is a vacation property management company specializing in Europe. With hundreds of rental properties to choose from in such locales as Venice, Paris, London, Prague, etc., they are, in short, the maker of vacation dreams. I discovered this by accident when I stumbled over a retweet of Oh’s spring blogger competition and entered. The contest was inspired, but simple – pick one of ten European cities and write a blog post about why you want to go there and the top five things you would do while visiting. In return, the winner would receive one week in four different cities, equating to a month-long grand tour of Europe! My imagination inflamed, I entered, I dreamed, I won.
Well, I won a runner-up spot! Congrats to Leah of “Leah Travels” who won the grand prize with her fabulous winning blog entry onFlorence. See the link to it below – it’s delicious!
After discovering my wonderful runner-up status, I proceeded to scare the neighborhood dogs with my peeling screams of delight. I then ran around the house asking my family to pinch me because I had to be dreaming, but my children declined, oddly enough, and my husband wouldn’t stop. Go figure.
After that, I sat down and I dreamed. And indulged.
For my runner-up prize is three nights in Venice, Italy in accommodations provided by Oh, and after going to Oh’s property rental site (see link below) I spent the rest of the day pouring over Venetian rental property after Venetian
This puts my sofa from Big Lots into perspective.
rental property after Venetian rental property. For on Oh’s site, one can not only see where the rental property falls on the map, one can also drool over pictures of the accommodations and, in many, cases view a layout of the apartments. Le sigh!
As a nook and cranny junkie and a lover of creative living spaces, I was hooked. Apartment after apartment after apartment – many located in buildings older than my hometown – scrolled past on my computer monitor and time slipped away. In my own way, I was an explorer, off to distant lands, making my way through unfamiliar territory and loving every minute of it.
And I couldn’t stop at Venice. After that it was on to Oh -London and Oh -Florence and – oh my God! – Oh -Paris!
And now Oh’s property sites have replaced Pinterest as my day-time dream-filled distraction of choice. Where as Pinterest drips with things I will never have or places I can never attain or clothing I will never fit into, Oh’s property
A Venetian room with a view courtsey of Oh-Venice.
is oh so attainable and very much available for rent, thus making these little slices of heaven one can actually enjoy as I will be doing in September. *Pinch* Ouch! God, that felt good!
Venice awaits and maybe next year my daughter and I will finally fulfill one of her dreams and get to Dublin. My 70-year-old mother has always wanted to see England, the home of her grandmother. My husband dreams of his family’s mother country of Germany and Berlin. And I will definitely have to get to Barcelona if for no other reason than that of drooling over matadors in tight shiny satin pants. It’s wonderful to dream, isn’t it?
I once worked with a woman who grew up in southern California between the Pacific Ocean to the west and burnished mountains to the east. She moved to
My Cape Cod doesn’t look like this. Neither does the yard barn from Lowes.
Indiana after marrying a native Hoosier, but while she loved the man, she failed to fall in love with my home state. As she grew up a stone’s throw from both deserts and palm trees, I can understand why. Her benchmark for beauty was set high at an early age. Growing up in a vacation destination, could she appreciate Indiana otherwise?
My childhood home is much like the land in which I live. Both are serviceable and have their charms. They’re understated and often overlooked. Bells and whistles are non-existent. But living in that little cookie-cutter house surrounded by Indiana’s flat fields of corn left me with a very flexible benchmark for beauty. I delight in a winter wheat field. Golden pastures of rolling hay bales give me pause. And I will swoon over Venice.
September will be here soon and with it Italy. I am preparing now to be left speechless. And in the meantime I will dream and plan and drool. And even while I will fantasy over Parisian apartments and London hotel suites and
I think Anthony Bourdain visited the owner of this building in an episode of No Reservations. I recognize the courtyard!
Tuscan abodes, I will embrace my quaint little house and my childhood home and my flat little land and thank them for being what they are and for shaping me into who I am.
By Robin Winzenread Fritz,
Writer, dreamer and lover of spaces big and small.