Family living in cave faces foreclosure

Unable to refinance, Missouri family puts their cavern on eBay

ABC News reports:

You’ve heard plenty of stories about foreclosures, but the latest victims of this brutal recession are about to lose their cave.

That’s right. For nearly five years, Curt Sleeper and his family have
lived in a cave. His mortgage is about to come due and, like millions of other Americans, he can’t refinance.

So now, the 17,000-square-foot, subterranean home is being auctioned off on eBay.

Sleeper is asking $300,000 for the home but is also looking preferably
for somebody to refinance his mortgage. After all, he and his family
did put five years of their lives into building the three-bedroom,
two-bathroom house into the cave. (During construction, Sleeper, his
wife and their two kids lived in tents in the back of the cave and
washed dishes and laundry in buckets. Their third child, a son, was
born last week in the cave.)

Link to full story.


Photo via ABC News

Link to photos of cavehouse


Troglodytes

Among the many reasons that modern day cave dwellers choose to live in a cave and transform the rough basics of nature into domicile and comfort are: tradition, economic necessity; environmental and artistic reasons.

Cave dwelling is very popular in Southern Spain. In Benalua, a suburb of Guadix, everyone lives in a cave. In addition to the cave houses (casas cueva), there are cave theaters, cave restaurants and cave spas. In Granada Province, cave dwelling has existed at least since the Arab invasion of Iberia in the 8th century. In fact, Granada Province has the largest cave dwelling population in Europe.

In Cappadocia, Turkey, famous for its cave dwellings, the troglodyte lifestyle extends to elaborate hotels, like the Gamirasu Cave Hotel.


Spelunking

Annette Marie Hyder

Here at the root of things
I can hear the hushed sound
of the quiet of the grave
(without the irrevocability)
and listen to the things
that are normally not on my radar.

My newly unfurled bat ears
rub their velvet against
the growing pangs of stone
and the music of cold
that is almost as deep as time.

I begin to hear something
that sounds like the bones of things,
like the very marrow of those bones,
singing to me of the first cave, the first opening
breached, of rock’s grating groan.

The voice that I listen to has a name.
The name I hear is Endurance.

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