Yesterdays mission ---accomplished.

(This photo has nothing to do with the topic of this blog, other than the fact that I snapped it on the way to my mission yesterday, and it made me happy)


Procrastination is my middle name. I think I've admitted to it somewhere in my blog before. I ought to join a 12-step program for it- Procrastinators, Anonymous. Is there such a program at Betty Ford?? Yesterday, procrastination came and bit me on the rear end yet again. You think I would have learned by now, but no....

The thing I procrastinate about most here in Venice is dealing with the Italian government. If I have to do anything... ANYTHING..where I have to brush elbows, shoulders, fingertips even, with the Italian government in any way, I am going to put it off until there is absolutely no putting it off any longer. Well, guess what, yesterday was that day. There was no way around it, I had to go deal with them. It takes all the will power in the world for me to gear up for it. I can predict it will end in no good. My stomach starts to churn, my nerves kick in, I'm just a royal mess. And this is quite unlike me. Normally, I don't take crap from anyone. On this side of the Atlantic I have been conditioned to be a bit less assertive. Maybe that's a bit more cooperative. Docile even. Whatever it will take to get through with the least amount of agony.

I spent the entire first year of our lives here in Italy dealing with the Italian governement. Days and days and days of horrendously painful experiences going head to head with some clerk at some sportello   (counter - you know the ones like at the Department of Motor Vehicles in the US?) at some agency in some city somewhere in Italy. Venice, Bologna, south of Bologna, the whole region of Liguria- I was there. None of them were very happy experiences. And as a result- my dealings with any Italian agency become an occassion for me to put my middle name into practice. I procrastinate.

Yesterday I had to pay a visit to the Anagrafe office near Rialto. The Anagrafe is the Italian version of the Department of Vital Records in most states in the US.  I had the forms I needed all filled out, I thought I was ready, and set off nice and early for what I predicted would be a long morning. Happily, the office was almost empty when I arrived. Me, another girl, and an elderly couple already in place at Sportello numero 7.  I took my number and took a seat. With it being so empty, I thought this wouldn't require much waiting. Wrong. The little old couple were still at Sportello numero 7 over 35 minutes after I took my seat. I also needed Sportello 7, and so did the other girl a few seats over. Patience, Karen. Just find some patience. Too bad I never learned to whistle!

I kept myself busy scanning the internet (yes, thanks be to God, there was internet reception inside the building).  Finally, it was my turn.  I take my spot in front of the glass divider at Sportello numero 7, hand over my forms, and make sure I tell the guy on the other side right off the bat that I don't speak Italian fluently, but if he speaks slowly, I will understand him. Right, that didn't click because he started rattling off at warp speed as he proceeded to review all the fields I had filled in on the form. Blah, blah, blah, yes, hmm, ok... and what are the other names of the people who live in the apartment with you?  I pointed out that I had that information already filled in. Two of us.  Yes, but who else?  No one else. More people- who are they?  After several rounds back and forth, I finally got him to understand that it was only just us two- my husband and I. Ok. Fine. He asks me to hand over the identification documents for my husband, which I don't have on me. Bingo!  I knew this would happen!!!

This is the same rouse they use every time. They make sure they withhold some detail - something you need to do or have with you. When you get up to that Sportello thinking everything it's going to be smooth sailing, that you have everything possible--WHAM! They tell you something you didn't do, which requires you to go home and return another day.  Not this time. I make sure I clearly understand the documents he is asking for, get on the phone to Mike, tell him to make copies and hop on the next boat to Rialto.  I turn to the guy behind the glass divider, smile, and tell him my husband will arrive Subito (right away). I won't need to return another day.  He says Good. When he comes, you don't need to take another number. Just come to the window.

I knew it would take Mike about 30 minutes to get from Sant'Elena to the Anagrafe office, so I took the opportunity to go have myself a cup of tea at a nearby caffe in Campo San Luca.  While I sat in the caffe I had time to reflect on my adventure so far, and compared it to those of 5 years ago. Five years ago I would have turned tail and slunk out of that office so fast you wouldn't have seen me go if you blinked your eye for a nanosecond. Five years ago I would have been stammering, pointing, showing the guy a piece of paper with my Google translated questions and answers on it. Not today. I was speaking Italian, I didn't slink anywhere. I know the score at this point was still City Hall -1, Karen 0, but the day wasn't over yet and I was ready to go for Round 2.

While waiting, I also had a conversation with a lovely couple from Norway who were seated next to me. Had I ever been to Norway, they asked. No, but we have friends there. We have friends there! Listen to me!  Yes, I can say we have friends in Norway now. Venice has done this for me. I can tell you with 100% certainty that had I still been living in Baltimore I would never have made friends who live in Norway. I now have friends around the globe, in fact.  I spent the rest of my time waiting for Mike to show up reflecting on the many ways my life has changed since getting on a plane to Venice in 2008 and not looking back.

Mike arrived with the necessary copies in hand. Yes. Round 2. We go back into the office and stand near Sportello numero 7.  The guy behind the glass divider has been replaced by a woman, but she nods in our direction and mouths that we should wait a little bit. She handles one more customer quickly then motions us over.  She takes the copies of Mike's identification, then looks up and says I need copies of your Codice Fiscale and Karen's Carta d'Identita (like a tax id number and my Italian identification card). Well, we have the originals with us. No, she needs a photocopy of all of them. Why didn't Guy #1 tell us this the first time?  I bit my tougue and kept that question to myself.  She gave directions to a place in Campo San Luca where copies could be obtained quickly, sent Mike on the errand and motioned me to take a seat to wait.  No new number needed.

Ten minutes later, Mike returns with the photocopies. Two minutes after that we were back at the Sportello. One more minute and we had a printed out receipt and were out of there!

We headed over to Campo Santa Margherita to run a few errands and grab a quick lunch.  I sent Mike to our local fish monger Paolo to buy shrimp and mussels while I headed into Punto, the local grocery store for the few items I needed, with plans to meet up at the caffe to eat.  Shopping completed, I walked across the campo towards our meeting spot. Rosella, Paolo the fishmongers mother who also works at the stall, gives me a wave, and yells to me "I have your shrimp all cleaned for you!".   I did a detour over to Rosella, paid her, retrieved my package and went to meet my husband for lunch. I am loving life. Does it get any better than this???

Over lunch, Mike and I replayed the morning, noting how different it went compared to what we would have done several years ago. This mornings transaction would have turned into a 3 trip event before we had a receipt in our hands. It might have even required hauling a friend along to do some talking for us. Not this time. We stuck it out, managed it all in one swoop and kept our cool.

We even shared a laugh about the guy asking for all the rest of the names of the people who lived with us in the apartment, not believing it was only us two.  I suggested to Mike that I probably should have listed 27 Bangladeshi who throw those annoying blue lights up into the sky in St. Mark's square.  If you have been to Venice recently, you know those guys too. It would have been fun to see the expression on that Anagrafe guy's face!

Technically "Venetian"

For those of you who have read my blog from the beginning, you may recall the momentous occassion towards the end of 2008 when I received my dual Italian citizenship.  Of the many official documents I received that day, the one that has been most important, besides my Italian passaporto, is my Carta d'Identita.  This special document is probably comparable to a Social Security card in the USA. Here it's used for identification purposes, all over the place, even for boarding planes between EU countries.

Each Carta d'Identita has a unique number, and inside contains information such as your date of birth, place of birth, country of citizenship, address, height, weight, and eye color.On mine, the address is the address of the apartment I had to rent out in Castel San Pietro Terme while I was going through my citizenship process. Since the card is good for 10 years, I have just used it whenever needed and don't give it much thought. Until recently.

Living in Venice is everything I ever imagined it would be- and much more. However, as grand and glorious as it is to be walking these calle day in and day out, that pleasure comes with a downside- a high price tag.  This is no surprise to us, we planned for it. We are fully aware our rent here is much higher than it would be if we lived outside the city anywhere else.  We know that when we buy groceries or clothes or a bottle of wine here in the city, it costs more than it would out on the mainland. There are very few discounts available for residents of Venice.  And herein lies the subject of my blog today. .

Besides our resident discount for the vaporetto, residents of Venice can get into certain museums free on certain days of the week. We can also get into certain churches free by producing documentation verifying they are, in fact, a resident of Venice.  Here's the catch: the documentation necessary changes, depending on who is working the booth at a church on any particular day.  Certain churches will accept my health card, which contains my current address in Venice. Others will accept my Residence permit. A Carta d'Identita would always be good, but it must have a Venice address on it. Mine does not.  Over at the Miracoli church, they used to let me in with my health card. There is a new guard in the booth now, so that isn't good either. They will only accept my Carta d'Identita. Or I have to pay the entrance fee, same as a tourist. Not what I want to be doing on a regular basis. Mind you, there are over 100 churches in Venice and I have a tendency to pop in  any number of them with regularity.

I needed a solution to my little problem. The answer was quite simple- go get a new Carta d'Identita at the Anagrafe office here in Venice. Sounds simple. In reality, it never is.  Dealing with the Italian bureaucracy is such a pain in the behind I can come up with every excuse in the book to avoid it like the plague.  And so, even though it sounds like going to get a new card is simple, I have avoided it. Until now.

I steeled up my nerves, collected all the documentation I could possibly need and more, studied my Italian books  and made notes on the conversation I would need to have with some agent at Anagrafe.  Ok, I was ready. I thought.  I even knew what hours on which days of the week the Anagrafe is open. I marched myself down there, prepared to take a number and queue up in a line for however long it took. I just needed to get this done.

To my great surprise, when I arrived I was the only one in the whole of the Anagragfe office.  I took my number, and still had to wait.  Another lesson in Italian government for you-- there is always, ALWAYS a line, and you will wait. Even if you are the only one there. So I waited patiently.   It was only about 5 minutes waiting, but it seemed like an eternity. It was just enough time for my stomach to begin to tie in nots and the nerves to set in. My number comes up on the big electronic board in front of me announcing which sportello (counter) I am to report to. I walked over and took up my place. Let the nastiness begin, I thought to myself.

I made pleasantries with the gentleman behind the big plexiglass divider, and announced I needed a new Carta d'Identita.  He looked at my document and said "No, it's not expired, you have years left".  I proceeded to exlain I needed it to have my Venetian address on it. He appeared to understand.  He did not ask for any of my documentation. He took my current carta, did some typing on his computer,  and requested I verify my current address. Then, he asked for the three photos which I was prepared for.  I handed over my photos.  He printed a bunch of papers, stapled a bunch of stuff together, then did the ritual stamping of the official stamps with great vigor (that's another thing Italians love to do- stamp the crap out of everything).

I handed over the fee- 59 cents- and he handed me my new Carta.  Well, what do you know! All the Italian lessons and hours of studying are paying off, these visits are becoming less painful.  I stowed my new Carta in my wallet and was about to leave when I realized I hadn't taken  back my old Carta.  I stepped  to the plexiglass divider once more, and asked the clerk for my old Carta d'Identita.

"No", he said.  What???  I wanted that Carta. I am not sure I can even describe to you how important that card is to me. It's symbolic of one of the most important events of my lifetime. It means I am finally Italian. I did not want to part with it, no matter what.  And how was I going to explain that to this man???

Somehow, I did manage to get my meaning across to him, because he cracked a smile, and proceeded to do something I am sure he doesn't do very often.  He pulled my file back out of his stack, unstapled my old carta from the form, and walked over to his copy machine.  He made a copy of my old Carta, then returned to his desk and re-stapled everything back toether.  He handed me the copy, smiled, and announced that with my new Carta, I am Venetian.  Oh, how I wish.   But, on a brighter note, I will be getting those discounts in the churches from now on.

Life in Venice- Filing for Residency - part 3

When the doorbell rang at 8 am yesterday morning, we were very startled to find out it was an inspector from the Anagrafe office to do Mike's residency inspection. We had expected to receive a phone call prior to the visit, but we had not yet gotten that call. I had about 10 minutes before I had to leave to catch the bus for the airport, so this actually would work out just fine. And- we were happy to just have this inspection be done with.

It was a different inspector than the man who had come the week prior for my residency inspection. This man sat down at the dining room table, asked a few questions, requested to see my Carta d'Identita, and was done. He played with Leopold, our corgi for a minute, then told us that in one week from that date we could go to the Anagrafe office to pick up the Certificato di Residenza. Bing, bang, boom, finito! The waiting on the residency inspection is maddening, and then the actual inspection is nothing. I think in our case the wait was prolonged only due to this man's illness ( we had been told by the Anagrafe office that the person who inspects in our area of Santa Croce was very ill and had been hospitalized). We' know of another person who had his inspection in 3 days time. As with everything else government related, we've learned to just have patience.

We are delighted to have this phase completed. This means that once we have the Certificato in our hands ( Mike and I will pick each of ours up at the same time next week), we will be able to then have our permanent Tessera Sanitaria cards issued. We were only given temporary Tessera cards until we could produce the residence certificates. This means another trip to another government office, but we're getting good at it!!

Life in Venice- Filing for Residency - part 2

Ok, I'll admit it, I'd been procrastinating on calling this Signore Bovo to ask about when we'll get a residency visit from him. I can only take Italian beauocracy in small doses... spread out, if possible. The gods smiled down on me this time though! Out of the blue 2 days ago Signore Bovo called me!!! And... even better, I was able to understand that he planned to come the next morning "domani mattina", if that was ok. Si, Si, Si !!!

Yesterday, at about 10 am, the doorbell rings and there stands our Signore Bovo. He's in high water boots, a heavy coat and wool cap. The visit didn't take more than 15 minutes, which I sort of expected. He had a form with him, from which he asked questions and noted my responses. I was able to understand and respond to him, and only had to ask him to speak "Piano, piano" once. His questions were things like " Do you own or rent the apartment ?" , " Where did you live before this ?" , "What kind of work do you do ?", and "Who else lives here with you ?". I got through all of those with flying colors.. ..must mean my ramped up Italian studies in the last month have sunk in a bit.

I asked if he also had a form for my husband's residency, he said that he would be returning another day to do that one. He had been sick, and had a list of names he needed to catch up with. I presumed he was going through them in the order in which they applied. at the Anagrafe office. That's ok, we'll take one step at a time. I know he'll be calling the day before he comes, and that he will return in the next week or so. I'm learning patience here.

Progress made. Now, I will have to wait a bit before making a trip to the Anagrafe office to have them print out a Certificate of Residence for me. Then we are done with Anagrafe,- Basta. At least until we move from here, and that not be for at least another 12 months.