The advantages of speaking terrible Italian but trying really hard
Last Thursday I had a study right before lunch, and I don't teach during the lunch period, so I had potentially a 2-hour window in which to get downtown to the Italian consulate to pick up my visa before they close at noon. (I had learned several days before that because I did not bring a SASE with me, they would wait for me to come pick it up. Joy.) This study-before-lunch configuration happens once every 8 days, unless you have a three-day weekend in the middle, in which case it happens once every 11. So if I didn't get the thing on the Thursday it was going to be just shy of 2 weeks before I could go again. I managed to c/o/n/ persuade a colleague to take my study, scampered out of the building and headed east on the T.
Public transport totally cooperated - the train came about 3 minutes after I got to the stop, and the second train was waiting when I changed. I arrived at the consulate at 11:10, with fully an hour and a half to get the passport and scurry back to school. I hop off the elevator on the 17th floor, round the corner confidently to the consulate... and the visa office door is shut, and the lights are off. Cue sinking heart.
The actual consulate is open. I ask the nice man at the desk where I can pick up my visa. "They told you to come TODAY? You have the appointment TODAY?" Uh, no, they told me to come after May 12. This was the first day I could get away. "The visa office is closed. They cannot process your paperwork today." Not processing paperwork, just picking up, that's all, really. "Hmph. I ask. Please, you will be seated to wait."
So I am seated to wait. He disappears. After about 10 minutes, he comes back out, with my dear friend Operator 1 alongside him. I hear her say, "Oh, of course. Yes, I know her. She is mumblemumble." He looks dissatisfied. She waves to me, "Buongiorno, Signora. Aspetta momento." I wave back. Hope springs. He disappears again then returns and marches up to me.
"Miller? Suarez? You come now please." Suarez, it turns out, is sitting next to me. We go. He unlocks the visa office (note: does not turn the lights on. We are not welcome here, clearly), goes behind the bulletproof glass and sits. "They yell at me when I do this for you, you know. I do not process paperwork on Thursday." I say as mildly and politely as I can possibly be, "But I'm just picking up." I give him my driver's license. He gets up again and goes to the back of the room, opens a file, pulls out my passport, all but throws it at me, and sits again. I retrieve passport and ID and after a few mille grazie escape into the sunshine again. Arrival back at Latin School: 12:25 pm, with 13 minutes to eat lunch. Woo hoo!
I'm actually planning on being in country touring for 10 days beyond my official visa status. I'll be an illegal alien! Maybe they'll deport me and pay for my ticket home.
Monday, May 28, 2012
Sunday, May 13, 2012
Learning to Walk
Many advancements, small ones, were made this weekend toward The Great Migration. A couple weeks ago, Mamma's friend Jocquelyn sent me a box full of things left over from her trip to Italy 2 years ago, among which were 2 phones with apparently active SIM cards, an envelope with "Garmin/Europe" written on it, and several tour guides. Friday I finally got my act together to see if the SIMs were still good. Turns out one was, one was not. So I'll have to order a new one for the one phone, but the other still had $48 worth of time on it. Score! For a mere $30 I was able to reactivate the usable window for the card (and I'm pretty sure I can figure a way to use up $78 worth of talk time between now and next year!).
It's just a teeny little brick phone. I had been thinking about getting a 4G smartphone with gps, but Jocquelyn discouraged me, saying the coverage was not always that good, and that I was better off with a stand-alone gps unit, especially since we'll be living in the foothills of the Apennines (mountain coverage is always dicey). So I looked into getting a Garmin. Reviews of the new ones have been pretty favorable, so I plunked down my $200 and ordered it. It was $99 extra to get European maps (it comes with NAmerica), and I was about to do that when I looked in Jocquelyn's box again. That envelope? 2010 Garmin European map software. Score again! Ok, yes, they're two years out of date, but the device comes with routine map updates, so I'll just have them updated before we go. It's one of the ones with bluetooth and voice activation, so I won't have to LOOK at it so much as listen to it. I figure the voice stuff is worth the extra $60 from the next level down machine, easy. And the screen is big so Mamma will be able to read it and not be nervous :)
Yesterday I went to the mall, got Filia Minor new shoes, then got me new shoes. They are the Fugly Shoes. I hate them. Yet I love them. I put them on (Asics Gel Kayano, whatever that means) and walked around, and for the first time in at LEAST six months the joint in my left foot did not hurt. At all. I had no idea how constant the pain in my foot had been until it went away. So though they are Fugly Shoes, I will wear them joyfully, especially as I hope to walk about 5 miles a day at least 3 days a week most of next year. I sent Mamma a picture of them and she said they look just like the ones Rachel Maddow wears. I adore Rachel Maddow. If she can wear Fugly Shoes on national television and not give a shit, then I can wear them to walk up and down Italian hills.
Today I took the bunnies to their new foster mom in Acton -- another small but necessary errand, since we're obviously not taking them to Besozzola! To get to Acton from Boston one must pass the road to Walden Pond. (I looked for Zonker but did not see him.) Since I had time, I decided to stop and see what Walden was up to. It was a perfect day, 77 degrees, light cool breeze, bright sun, and the walk around the pond was just under 2 miles, with a few hills to keep you honest. I had on my Ecco walking sandals, and they were almost as comfortable as the Fugly Shoes (which are really more for cool weather). The walk was a nice stretch, but I need to do a LOT more of that to get ready for the touring and the amount of marching about generally that will be required this summer. Naturally I ruined it by getting an ice cream from the truck on the way back to my car, but whatever. I was happy. I wasn't worn out, and I got to sit on the ridiculous bench in the pond. Yes, there's a bench IN the pond. It's perfectly dry, you just have to wade out to it. Somehow the bench in the pond made me very happy. Well, that and the ice cream.
Many advancements, small ones, were made this weekend toward The Great Migration. A couple weeks ago, Mamma's friend Jocquelyn sent me a box full of things left over from her trip to Italy 2 years ago, among which were 2 phones with apparently active SIM cards, an envelope with "Garmin/Europe" written on it, and several tour guides. Friday I finally got my act together to see if the SIMs were still good. Turns out one was, one was not. So I'll have to order a new one for the one phone, but the other still had $48 worth of time on it. Score! For a mere $30 I was able to reactivate the usable window for the card (and I'm pretty sure I can figure a way to use up $78 worth of talk time between now and next year!).
It's just a teeny little brick phone. I had been thinking about getting a 4G smartphone with gps, but Jocquelyn discouraged me, saying the coverage was not always that good, and that I was better off with a stand-alone gps unit, especially since we'll be living in the foothills of the Apennines (mountain coverage is always dicey). So I looked into getting a Garmin. Reviews of the new ones have been pretty favorable, so I plunked down my $200 and ordered it. It was $99 extra to get European maps (it comes with NAmerica), and I was about to do that when I looked in Jocquelyn's box again. That envelope? 2010 Garmin European map software. Score again! Ok, yes, they're two years out of date, but the device comes with routine map updates, so I'll just have them updated before we go. It's one of the ones with bluetooth and voice activation, so I won't have to LOOK at it so much as listen to it. I figure the voice stuff is worth the extra $60 from the next level down machine, easy. And the screen is big so Mamma will be able to read it and not be nervous :)
Yesterday I went to the mall, got Filia Minor new shoes, then got me new shoes. They are the Fugly Shoes. I hate them. Yet I love them. I put them on (Asics Gel Kayano, whatever that means) and walked around, and for the first time in at LEAST six months the joint in my left foot did not hurt. At all. I had no idea how constant the pain in my foot had been until it went away. So though they are Fugly Shoes, I will wear them joyfully, especially as I hope to walk about 5 miles a day at least 3 days a week most of next year. I sent Mamma a picture of them and she said they look just like the ones Rachel Maddow wears. I adore Rachel Maddow. If she can wear Fugly Shoes on national television and not give a shit, then I can wear them to walk up and down Italian hills.
Today I took the bunnies to their new foster mom in Acton -- another small but necessary errand, since we're obviously not taking them to Besozzola! To get to Acton from Boston one must pass the road to Walden Pond. (I looked for Zonker but did not see him.) Since I had time, I decided to stop and see what Walden was up to. It was a perfect day, 77 degrees, light cool breeze, bright sun, and the walk around the pond was just under 2 miles, with a few hills to keep you honest. I had on my Ecco walking sandals, and they were almost as comfortable as the Fugly Shoes (which are really more for cool weather). The walk was a nice stretch, but I need to do a LOT more of that to get ready for the touring and the amount of marching about generally that will be required this summer. Naturally I ruined it by getting an ice cream from the truck on the way back to my car, but whatever. I was happy. I wasn't worn out, and I got to sit on the ridiculous bench in the pond. Yes, there's a bench IN the pond. It's perfectly dry, you just have to wade out to it. Somehow the bench in the pond made me very happy. Well, that and the ice cream.
Monday, May 7, 2012
"Okay, we have to do this bit in English to make sure I understand..."
Today was our visa appointment with the Italian consulate. Now, back in February I went down to the consulate with a group of documents that seemed, from what I had read on the website, to be what was needed. The lady there (identified only as Operator 1) informed me somewhat sniffily that not only did I not have appropriate docs, but I was too early -- seems you can't apply for the visa until within 90 days of departure. Mind you, you have to have arranged everything for your year there before you can get the visa. So if you can't get the visa, you can't go for the year, and that year deposit you just put on the house... well, sorry!
She did, however, give me a long list of things I needed to have in order to prove my worthiness. So I started collecting. Original bank statements (I get all e-statements, and turns out, my email printouts aren't good enough), 3 months' worth. Original paystubs, at least 3 within the last 4 months. Completed lease agreement with Italian revenue stamps showing a rent that is reasonable given what's on the bank statements. A letter from my headmaster saying I have a job now, I am allowed to leave it for a year, and I am expected back. TWO letters from my health insurance company saying that I and the girls are covered whilst in Italy. A letter from Matthew regarding his permission for each girl to go for the year and therefore to apply for the visa. Photocopies of our passports and birth certificates as well as the originals. I feel like I'm missing something, but you get the idea. And a complete set of copies of these things for each person applying. I made 4 sets, just in case.
I made a new appointment, for today (7 May). I bought a ticket for Elise to come home for the weekend because you have to appear in person to apply ($550 for a $450 ticket, because JetBlue does not believe a 13-year-old can negotiate a direct flight by herself). I paid extra for Elise's passport to be expedited when it hadn't arrived after 12 weeks (still bitter about that). And promptly at 9:10 for a 9:14 appointment (yes, nine fourteen. I have no idea) we arrived on the 17th floor of the Federal Reserve building in Boston to petition for our visas.
Happily we were the only ones there when we arrived, because my stuff took a long time. I am proud to say that I managed to navigate almost the entire conversation in Italian (I used the verb "ho fatto" ("I did") a lot. A LOT) but as she was reading through the papers, she came to the letter from my headmaster and stopped.
"Perche' vuole Lei andare in Italia?" (Why do you want to go to Italy?)
Uh, voglio andare in Italia. Amo Italia. (Because, uh, I want to go. I like Italy.)
"Che vuole fare li?" (What are you planning to do there?)
Uh, hm. Scrivo un libro! (I'm writing a book!)
"Allora, non e' vista della residenza, e' vista del sabbatico. Le figlie non devono avere viste. Lei andra' alla Questura per fare raggiungiamento della famiglia."
My Italian is not all that great at the moment. I'm practicing, I'm listening to Italian stuff, I'm slowly working on getting back to a decent level of comprehension. But I wanted to make darn sure I understood her at this point because it really really sounded like she had just said, "The kids don't need visas." So I switched unapologetically to English.
Seems the headmaster letter says that I have been granted, not a leave of absence, but a sabbatical from school. I pointed out that I'm not with a university here and won't be there. Doesn't matter, she said, your paperwork says sabbatical, you get a sabbatical visa. That means you don't need one for the kids. You register them with the cops in Parma and get a "rejoinment of family" because they need to join you while you live there. No visa required.
She had to think I was stupid by the time we finished. I made her repeat this, in Italian and in English, like four times. Oh, and just as an added bonus: the regular visa is $176. Times three. Runs into real money pretty quickly. The sabbatico is free.
Somehow we managed to get Elise an interview at Andover later this afternoon, so the trip out was not in vain. Meanwhile, I'm just continuing to hope that my children aren't going to be illegal immigrants!
Today was our visa appointment with the Italian consulate. Now, back in February I went down to the consulate with a group of documents that seemed, from what I had read on the website, to be what was needed. The lady there (identified only as Operator 1) informed me somewhat sniffily that not only did I not have appropriate docs, but I was too early -- seems you can't apply for the visa until within 90 days of departure. Mind you, you have to have arranged everything for your year there before you can get the visa. So if you can't get the visa, you can't go for the year, and that year deposit you just put on the house... well, sorry!
She did, however, give me a long list of things I needed to have in order to prove my worthiness. So I started collecting. Original bank statements (I get all e-statements, and turns out, my email printouts aren't good enough), 3 months' worth. Original paystubs, at least 3 within the last 4 months. Completed lease agreement with Italian revenue stamps showing a rent that is reasonable given what's on the bank statements. A letter from my headmaster saying I have a job now, I am allowed to leave it for a year, and I am expected back. TWO letters from my health insurance company saying that I and the girls are covered whilst in Italy. A letter from Matthew regarding his permission for each girl to go for the year and therefore to apply for the visa. Photocopies of our passports and birth certificates as well as the originals. I feel like I'm missing something, but you get the idea. And a complete set of copies of these things for each person applying. I made 4 sets, just in case.
I made a new appointment, for today (7 May). I bought a ticket for Elise to come home for the weekend because you have to appear in person to apply ($550 for a $450 ticket, because JetBlue does not believe a 13-year-old can negotiate a direct flight by herself). I paid extra for Elise's passport to be expedited when it hadn't arrived after 12 weeks (still bitter about that). And promptly at 9:10 for a 9:14 appointment (yes, nine fourteen. I have no idea) we arrived on the 17th floor of the Federal Reserve building in Boston to petition for our visas.
Happily we were the only ones there when we arrived, because my stuff took a long time. I am proud to say that I managed to navigate almost the entire conversation in Italian (I used the verb "ho fatto" ("I did") a lot. A LOT) but as she was reading through the papers, she came to the letter from my headmaster and stopped.
"Perche' vuole Lei andare in Italia?" (Why do you want to go to Italy?)
Uh, voglio andare in Italia. Amo Italia. (Because, uh, I want to go. I like Italy.)
"Che vuole fare li?" (What are you planning to do there?)
Uh, hm. Scrivo un libro! (I'm writing a book!)
"Allora, non e' vista della residenza, e' vista del sabbatico. Le figlie non devono avere viste. Lei andra' alla Questura per fare raggiungiamento della famiglia."
My Italian is not all that great at the moment. I'm practicing, I'm listening to Italian stuff, I'm slowly working on getting back to a decent level of comprehension. But I wanted to make darn sure I understood her at this point because it really really sounded like she had just said, "The kids don't need visas." So I switched unapologetically to English.
Seems the headmaster letter says that I have been granted, not a leave of absence, but a sabbatical from school. I pointed out that I'm not with a university here and won't be there. Doesn't matter, she said, your paperwork says sabbatical, you get a sabbatical visa. That means you don't need one for the kids. You register them with the cops in Parma and get a "rejoinment of family" because they need to join you while you live there. No visa required.
She had to think I was stupid by the time we finished. I made her repeat this, in Italian and in English, like four times. Oh, and just as an added bonus: the regular visa is $176. Times three. Runs into real money pretty quickly. The sabbatico is free.
Somehow we managed to get Elise an interview at Andover later this afternoon, so the trip out was not in vain. Meanwhile, I'm just continuing to hope that my children aren't going to be illegal immigrants!
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