Some lessons are never learned, are they?
OK, in my quest to learn to lighten up and quit being so damned early for everything, I think it's only fair to point out that only works about 90 percent of the time here. For example, in obtaining what they call your Permesso/carta di Soggiorno (remember the incident with the block letters back in September?) there is a certain amount of yanking and banking involved - and yes, it's now January, and I'm just now going to (I think) pick up my card today. What is this card you ask? It means you are allowed to stay in Italy - live here. So why did I go through all that paperwork last summer to get a Visa? That's different. And what of this Codice Fiscale? Still no clue - just carry it with you. You have to have it.
So this "permission to stay" thing:
a) Some people never obtain it after being here a year & still manage to get out of Europe with only minor hassels.
b) Some of us get these after we've been here several months and are already doing dry runs of how to get stuff back to the states given changing travel regulations because SOME PEOPLE IN THIS WORLD (terrorist bastards) DON'T KNOW HOW TO ACT ON AIRCRAFT AND LIKE TO RUIN SHIT FOR THE REST OF THE WORLD. Eh hem - made the coffee a little too strong, Val?
c) According to an Albanian friend I made the last time I was 'hanging out' at the ufficio immigrazione (think of your worst day at the DMV, multiply it X 5, and welcome to a typical visit to this place), depending on the mood of the individual behind the counter, the cards are good for anywhere from 6 months to 4 years? Keep in mind this conversation was had in Italian by two women who are not native Italian speakers - I could have (say it's not so) misunderstood.
d) The process is still a mystery - if there is, indeed, a process. Last time I sat around waiting for a number to get another number to get a letter to tell me to come back in a month. Of course had I gone to my original appointment in October, which I pushed back so I wouldn't miss the first day of our harvest project in the vineyards, I'd have had this knocked out in November. Or February. Who knows.
So I thought I had the system down. I know people who have sat there anywhere from 5 to 8 hours, had more than two visits, and I was prepared for the worst for my first visit in December. I packed my survival kit - water, snacks, books, iPod, loaded up on extra Vitamin C so as to protect myself from any "cooties" running rampant in public places of DMV - or Walmart-esque - populations, etc. I got there early as instructed by our housing coordinator. I was there at 07:32, and was number A120. Score! They open at 08:00. OK, they opened at 08:07-ish.
NOTE: It doesn't matter what time your appointment is on the letter. Just get there early. So I've been told. So I will do. If there's one thing I'm good at, is getting there early.
Two hours later, I went to the window, showed my passport, stack of papers, and letter telling them that I was supposed to be there. I got another number. I went and took another seat. Now I'm number H06. Score! (And WTF? H? 06?) Only 1 and 1/2 hours later, I'm back up at a window, handing over mug shot passport photos, more papers, letters, chapstick, recipes, loose change - hell - anything she wanted. I signed something, who knows what (I think it's for my card), finger prints, more finger prints, sinistra di nuovo, left hand again, left index finger again, left middle finger again - you betcha.
Then another letter comes back out the window at me. I smile, thank the woman, and realize that I was in and out in under 4 hours - had to be some kind of record! And all in all, it wasn't that bad, being it wasn't summer, crowded, and I was done with finals so wasn't having kittens about missing a lecture on "soils" or "sparkling wine production."
So here it is January. Time to go back to, hopefully, pick up my card - so I can be here legally? Che cosa? I got there early, but not as early as last time. I took my time this morning, walked in the sun, got there at 08:30, realized I'd forgotten the letter in my other bag telling me to be there, walked BACK through Mercato Centrale, really not too annoyed, as it's a beautiful day ... to spend sitting around the immigration office. I retrieved the letter, walked back a different way (yes, in the sun), got to the window trying not to trip the third-world country bitch who was too good to wait in line and cut in front of me, and Mr. Polizia refused to give me a number. Scusa? "Tornare a mezzogiorno" he tells me - come back at noon, and points to the 15:00 appointment time on the letter.
I didn't go into the whole, "But the time is not important to you people - I want to begin the sitting around process early, K?" thing. "Va bene" I said, and rolled my eyes at Mr. Polizia - am hoping he's not there when I go back in an hour - or should I go early to wait in line for the 12:00 number-issue to get a number to wait some more for another number to present my letter and HOPEFULLY get the card (what do I do with the card again?) that says I have permission to be here.
So yes, my plan to get there early, be done in time to have lunch with a friend on the other side of town was foiled. But what a great morning to be outsmarted by the polizia - having time is such a blessing to me these days - so I'll make the best of it. I stopped by the market picked up breakfast, enjoyed the walk in the sunshine thinking, "Damn, those dishes in my sink aren't going to wash themselves - looks like I got some time!" I came home, I pulled the leaves off a giant Sicilian navel orange, made a large spicy cappuccino with nutmeg, and glommed on some yogurt and ciambale. I thought about how I've still not learned the "quit being early" lesson - oh - and the "quit buying the ciambale (muffin)" lesson - bad bad plan - dry dry blech (stick to the brioche filled with Nutella).
The biggest lesson of the day? Turn your face toward the sun, and enjoy every minute, no matter what you're doing. Things won't always go the way you planned - so enjoy the diversion.
OK, in my quest to learn to lighten up and quit being so damned early for everything, I think it's only fair to point out that only works about 90 percent of the time here. For example, in obtaining what they call your Permesso/carta di Soggiorno (remember the incident with the block letters back in September?) there is a certain amount of yanking and banking involved - and yes, it's now January, and I'm just now going to (I think) pick up my card today. What is this card you ask? It means you are allowed to stay in Italy - live here. So why did I go through all that paperwork last summer to get a Visa? That's different. And what of this Codice Fiscale? Still no clue - just carry it with you. You have to have it.
So this "permission to stay" thing:
a) Some people never obtain it after being here a year & still manage to get out of Europe with only minor hassels.
b) Some of us get these after we've been here several months and are already doing dry runs of how to get stuff back to the states given changing travel regulations because SOME PEOPLE IN THIS WORLD (terrorist bastards) DON'T KNOW HOW TO ACT ON AIRCRAFT AND LIKE TO RUIN SHIT FOR THE REST OF THE WORLD. Eh hem - made the coffee a little too strong, Val?
c) According to an Albanian friend I made the last time I was 'hanging out' at the ufficio immigrazione (think of your worst day at the DMV, multiply it X 5, and welcome to a typical visit to this place), depending on the mood of the individual behind the counter, the cards are good for anywhere from 6 months to 4 years? Keep in mind this conversation was had in Italian by two women who are not native Italian speakers - I could have (say it's not so) misunderstood.
d) The process is still a mystery - if there is, indeed, a process. Last time I sat around waiting for a number to get another number to get a letter to tell me to come back in a month. Of course had I gone to my original appointment in October, which I pushed back so I wouldn't miss the first day of our harvest project in the vineyards, I'd have had this knocked out in November. Or February. Who knows.
So I thought I had the system down. I know people who have sat there anywhere from 5 to 8 hours, had more than two visits, and I was prepared for the worst for my first visit in December. I packed my survival kit - water, snacks, books, iPod, loaded up on extra Vitamin C so as to protect myself from any "cooties" running rampant in public places of DMV - or Walmart-esque - populations, etc. I got there early as instructed by our housing coordinator. I was there at 07:32, and was number A120. Score! They open at 08:00. OK, they opened at 08:07-ish.
NOTE: It doesn't matter what time your appointment is on the letter. Just get there early. So I've been told. So I will do. If there's one thing I'm good at, is getting there early.
Two hours later, I went to the window, showed my passport, stack of papers, and letter telling them that I was supposed to be there. I got another number. I went and took another seat. Now I'm number H06. Score! (And WTF? H? 06?) Only 1 and 1/2 hours later, I'm back up at a window, handing over mug shot passport photos, more papers, letters, chapstick, recipes, loose change - hell - anything she wanted. I signed something, who knows what (I think it's for my card), finger prints, more finger prints, sinistra di nuovo, left hand again, left index finger again, left middle finger again - you betcha.
Then another letter comes back out the window at me. I smile, thank the woman, and realize that I was in and out in under 4 hours - had to be some kind of record! And all in all, it wasn't that bad, being it wasn't summer, crowded, and I was done with finals so wasn't having kittens about missing a lecture on "soils" or "sparkling wine production."
So here it is January. Time to go back to, hopefully, pick up my card - so I can be here legally? Che cosa? I got there early, but not as early as last time. I took my time this morning, walked in the sun, got there at 08:30, realized I'd forgotten the letter in my other bag telling me to be there, walked BACK through Mercato Centrale, really not too annoyed, as it's a beautiful day ... to spend sitting around the immigration office. I retrieved the letter, walked back a different way (yes, in the sun), got to the window trying not to trip the third-world country bitch who was too good to wait in line and cut in front of me, and Mr. Polizia refused to give me a number. Scusa? "Tornare a mezzogiorno" he tells me - come back at noon, and points to the 15:00 appointment time on the letter.
I didn't go into the whole, "But the time is not important to you people - I want to begin the sitting around process early, K?" thing. "Va bene" I said, and rolled my eyes at Mr. Polizia - am hoping he's not there when I go back in an hour - or should I go early to wait in line for the 12:00 number-issue to get a number to wait some more for another number to present my letter and HOPEFULLY get the card (what do I do with the card again?) that says I have permission to be here.
So yes, my plan to get there early, be done in time to have lunch with a friend on the other side of town was foiled. But what a great morning to be outsmarted by the polizia - having time is such a blessing to me these days - so I'll make the best of it. I stopped by the market picked up breakfast, enjoyed the walk in the sunshine thinking, "Damn, those dishes in my sink aren't going to wash themselves - looks like I got some time!" I came home, I pulled the leaves off a giant Sicilian navel orange, made a large spicy cappuccino with nutmeg, and glommed on some yogurt and ciambale. I thought about how I've still not learned the "quit being early" lesson - oh - and the "quit buying the ciambale (muffin)" lesson - bad bad plan - dry dry blech (stick to the brioche filled with Nutella). The biggest lesson of the day? Turn your face toward the sun, and enjoy every minute, no matter what you're doing. Things won't always go the way you planned - so enjoy the diversion.
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All entries are strictly observations from my point of view. This blog is not intended as professional commentary on travel, wine, food, or any other subjects I discuss - it is for entertainment, an online journal, for my friends, family, and anyone interested in my stories or journey in general.
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