A small house with walls darkened with time and an almost black roof, nestled between the hills. An accurate courtyard with blooming hydrangeas in pots. Not too rich decoration. Two armchairs on the veranda. And the house is warm and cozy, clean tablecloths, smells wonderful of fresh strudel, you can hear unhurried heart-to-heart conversations and children’s babbling. What only matters is what's inside.