My plan for this year was to dismantle my historic wooden cottage, construct a foundation of concrete and rocks, repair or replace bad wood, and then rebuild the walls. The following year, I would tackle the roof and first floor. But before I could dismantle the building, I needed a place to both repair and store the wood. A nice workshop was in order.
I designed a structure with the dimensions totaling just under the 25 sq. meter limit that would have required additional permitting, one that mimicked the countless other small buildings typically found in the village. I submitted documents to both the Krajský pamiatkový úrad (KPÚ) in Prešov and the obecný úrad (the village municipal office).
Approval by both offices was relatively quick and work was started immediately to build the foundation. My neighbors seemed concerned that my property line was incorrect, although it was set by a professional land surveyor. The husband approached me twice with an old map showing… something. I never understood what he was trying to convince me of.
The land between me and my neighbor is jointly owned by six different owners. The next morning, an old woman – another owner – came onto the land with the neighbors to inspect the border. “Toto je moja pozemok,” she insisted, “This is my land”. The husband continued his insistence that I was building on their land. He had a map that proved it!
I explained that I had to leave, but that I would call the woman when I returned later that day. However, upon my return, I found an email from the mayor issuing a “stop work” order until the complaint against me was satisfied.
I was beside myself with anger and frustration. To end the controversy once and for all, the surveyor was requested to return. I notified the “concerned owners” that he was coming, as well as the mayor. The next morning at 8:00 AM, everyone was there – except for the mayor who refused to witness the event or to send anyone in her stead.
The surveyor confirmed the border, while the neighbor argued with the surveyor that the border was contrary to the map he waved in his hand. In short, the surveyor stated that the placed marker is the official border, regardless of what his map indicated.
My neighbors and the old woman were wrong in their claim, and I believed an apology was in order. As everyone began to disperse, I held up my hand and said, “I am waiting. I am listening…” The old woman did not understand what I meant, so I prompted her with what to say.
“Forgive me for causing these problems for you,” I said.
The old woman looked at me and responded, “Oh, it’s nothing…”
Frustrated by her stupidity and lack of morals, I responded. “Ma’am, you do not understand. This is what you must say to me: ‘Forgive me for causing these problems for you!’ “
Apparently, there is some cultural difference here, as she did not want to admit fault. She finally offered a half-hearted “sorry” before complaining that a tractor had been on her land. She could not admit fault without making another complaint.
Some gauge in my brain then clicked and I was now absolutely livid with this stupid, stupid woman. I then began yelling at her in Slovak, “What do you want, for fuck’s sake?! What do you want?!”
The wife began to chide me for speaking to an old woman in this manner. But I explained that this is how I speak when I am angry, and that I am very angry. I went home to report to my lawyer what had taken place. The husband came over a few minutes later and, without apologizing, held out his hand and asked that we remain friends.
“Yes, I want to be friends. But I am still very angry at what occurred.”
So, this is where we are. I have tried to avoid the neighbors as much as possible but smile when our eyes meet. They are not only neighbors, but the husband and I share blood. I am sad about the situation and remain mystified why the husband kept waving a map from 1997 in front of me. The old lady, who I did not previously know, will be sad once she receives a bill for both the cost of the surveyor and the lawyer fees.