Trying to reconcile with the extreme polarities or real estate of recent years, something extraordinary happened lately that finally made me understand the value of real estate versus asking prices.

Price is something we can easily grasp, usually retail items that we deal with on daily basis. Occasionally, some people have treasured and preserved some of those retail items and over time they have become valuable and even priceless. For some other treasures, there is not enough money in the world to buy them like one's child's kindergarten finger painting.

Approximately a month ago, the Miami Herald did an exposé about a 78 year old artist painter, Jasper John. One of his paintings sold for $80 million at a recent auction at Christie's in NY. I had never heard of him before. Naturally, a color photograph of the painting was displayed with the article. My interpretation of the painting was an essay of fall colors of things resembling foliage layered in rows on top of the others. Because I don't understand that kind of art, I was amazed of its price, incapable to understand its value.

Three weeks ago, the South Florida Business Journal (SFBJ) posted an article about an exclusive area south of Palm Beach called Manalapan. Manalapan is a short and very narrow key that is directly on the ocean and also on the Intracoastal Waterways where Highway US1 runs alongside the Intracoastal so poor people can see how the wealthy live. That stretch of land is grossly littered with nouveau-riches flaunting their wealth; the ocean side hosts their palaces and the Intracoastal is lined with their luxury ships. The article featured a young developer, probably under 40 years old, whose looks is reminiscent of Chippendale dancers with long wavy frosted blond hair, blue eyes, dimples and a Donnie Osmond generous teethed smile. Chippy, finished building a $25 million dollar enclave in Manalapan that just went on the market but the sensationalism of the article was that Chippy had just been approved by Bank of America (BOA) to take out his golden shovel and start building a $142 million single family home extravaganza on the 5.5 ares empty lot next door of that $25 mil painted lady. That project will probably degrade the historic Biltmore Landmark down to a home for the new owner' servants. I was bewildered trying to phantom that somewhat unfairness considering that eventually one person will be fortunate enough to claim that future property. The reason why BOA is endorsing this project is they claim that there are over 50,000 people in the world who can afford to buy such glitz.

Then, last weekend, our local Sunday newspaper reported another sensational event: a mansion in Palm Beach sold for $81 million (if you live in West Palm Beach or on Palm Beach island, those homes-of-the-gods are not referred to as castles but as “compounds.” I think the idea for that name was introduced by the socialites to make the populace think that those palaces are not that pretentious.)  The closest I ever got to compound is when I use that gritty paste to remove scuffs off my car. Stunned, I continued flipping through the paper's business section when I came across a jeweler's full page ad announcing some kind of auction: precious stones, vases and wrist watches – Wait a minute, am I reading this right, a Patek Philippe wrist watches over one million dollar and a bunch of other snazzy diamond ornate watches starting at $500K? Diamond studded gold Rolexes were not even mentioned, for God's sake!

My left brain was instantly catapulted to the right side (the area that is vacant, so I am reminded all the time). That asylum part of my brain helped me from blowing a “head gasket” over those high priced revelations until later in the week when I got closely connected to another high priced shocker.

My 81 year old uncle and aunt are retired with modest means. In Montréal, Québec, they live in the same home since they got married sixty years ago where they raised ten children. Ten years ago, they bought a twenty-eight year old mobile home in Hallandale, Florida (close to Miami) to spend the winters. They paid only $17,000 for it, then. They have done some improvements (upgrading mobile homes consists of replacing existing dark wood paneling with light pickled wood paneling, Home Depot Formica kitchen cabinets assemble-yourself specials and fresh Linoleum flooring. To really impress neighbors, converting the carport into a Florida room and painting the driveway floor using gray paint with sparkling flecks gets the envy of theentire park residents). Anyway, it is, nonetheless, a very well maintained mobile home park populated with only French Canadians to which owners own the land parcel. About two months ago, my relatives placed their mobile home on the market asking $165K. Needless to say that I laughed inside because a mobile home is nothing but a match box covered with tin. I did question them, though, how did they arrived to that price? They replied that there is such a strong demand by French Canadians to buy in this mobile home park and each unit is almost entirely sold by word-of-mouth among Frenchies. They added that one unit fetched $475K in January 2008. I didn't believe them but in respect for my relatives, I didn't argue. Low-and-behold, last Wednesday they got a full cash price offer and they are closing on April 18.

The next day, I went on the County Records site and verified those fantastic sales. I also extended my search in neighboring mobile home parks and I found one more exclusive park on a huge lake also populated by French Canadians where three mobile homes sold for over $610K in the past six months.  I guess, the value of those mobile homes is kinship in a foreign territory.

The evidences are before me: price of gasoline is $3.39, mobile homes sell for $600K, wrist watches for over one million, paintings for $80 million and homes for $81 millions. I now concede to inflation. 

Next week, I am having a garage sale and I can safely ask $1.5 mil for my paint-by-numbers masterpiece I did when I was 12 years old. Anybody interested? I'll trade for a completed jigsaw puzzle and a macramé flower pot holder, though.