House rules

Italians are impatient. That holds when it comes to barging through a competitive, bleary-eyed, morning mob at the bar to order a cappuccino or on the road, where traffic lights and speed limits are indeed merely impertinent suggestions.

But why would you want to rush a property transaction?

When you have vaulted the hurdles positioned determinedly by bureaucracy and tradition to stop you, even the signing of the final contract is a prolonged, almost liturgical affair. The notary overseeing the transaction reads aloud deliberately each paragraph with a priestly emphasis. Buyer and seller have to initial each paragraph with appropriate reverence.

In my case, the notary was worried I wouldn’t understand the archaic Italian used in the contract. He almost declined to proceed, until he was reminded by my exasperated agent, “Ma il dottore, anche gli Italiani non lo capiscono.” In short, Italians don’t understand it either.

In Britain — a place accustomed to quaint ceremony, partly to delight tourists but also to reassure itself that it is still relevant despite the loss of its empire — there’s surprisingly little drama. It is all matter of fact and can take a month and a half to complete. That’s if there’s no delay due to a backlog of buyers and sellers all trying to get their own transactions completed.

When I bought a London apartment, the process was simple. I never met the owners or the attorney handling the purchase. The paperwork for the offer and contract was manageable and mercifully light on the various documents so beloved in America, which waive this or that right and promise not to sue anyone. All was completed by overnight mail and the keys delivered by courier.

And that brings me to America. My wife and I have been looking to shift our American home from one side of Maryland to the other — and also a little further from the madhouse of D.C. “Simple,” you will say. Not a bit of it. Admittedly, we are very particular: We want, preferably, a federal or Victorian house in reasonable order. And we don’t have a lot of money.

The dual-agent system isn’t helping. Too much can be lost in translation and relies on both agents being intelligent and ethical. I know my agent meets the criteria, but he’s a rarity. We had one seller’s agent lie blatantly about the foundations of a house, going so far as to produce a dodgy structural engineer’s report that would have left my seven-year-old nephew unconvinced.

Sellers also appear determined to sabotage their sales. Three we’ve encountered so far haven’t been straightforward and seem oblivious to the notion that a process is there to ensure transparency and fairness. That partly can be explained by the fact that we’re in a sellers’ market with inventory historically low. Sellers can get away with playing games.

But predictability and transparency come with following a process. Maybe they are taking their cue from the shenanigans we see currently in D.C. among our bullish and less-than-civil politicians. Our last foray with a small federal house we dearly wanted in a small town we like fell by the wayside. We were closed down for reasons we still can’t quite fathom.

We’re now extending our search further north across the state border into Adams County, hoping we’ll have an easier time with the Pennsylvanian Dutch.

Jamie Dettmer is an international correspondent and broadcaster for VOA.