Kristen Suzanne

Writer. Expat. Foodie.

Expat Life

Successes & Exhaustion – Our Italian Expat Life

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When you first arrive in another country there are obvious stresses… a different language, getting around, finding the local butcher, etc.

However, this also creates many opportunities for lots of little and big wins in everyday life.

What do I mean?

Well, now that I’m living in a new country, I need to set up my life there. It goes beyond just learning where certain places are (like the nearest bank or grocery store), because learning the language is a whole other major part of the equation. It also makes it very stressful.

Wins.

Each day we have wins (and sure, some failures) all surrounding language-learning and basic living, like simply buying bus tickets.

When something seemingly small happens, such as finding and successfully using the post office, it’s like this huge win in life. Yeehaw! I feel pretty damn proud of myself. I might even start walking with a bit of a swagger. All because I bought a bus ticket.

It wouldn’t be like this if we had stayed in the USA.

It’s the kind of thing that can only come with such a big move. At the point you’re in a foreign country long enough that you’re not just visiting tourist restaurants that feature menus in English, your brain is expanding in an amazing way.

It gets a total workout, becoming tired just like your legs turn to jelly after a long hike. When you successfully do something like mail a postcard at the post office, all on your own? Well, you can’t help but want to dance a little jig.

Or when you buy beef at the local butcher and walk away with what you actually meant to buy.

Or when you use the public transportation system and end up at your intended destination.

It’s an amazing accomplishment. All wins, and there are plenty to be had. Buy a coffee without Google Translate? Win. Make a withdrawal from the bank in another country? Win. Recognize a traffic sign such that you follow it? Big Win.

It’s exhausting though.

Truly. I never use my brain so much as when I live in a foreign country, and try to learn (and use) the language. Italy is my first full-on experience like this.

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Italian Bus Drivers, Buying Bikes, and the Mall in Italy – Our Italian Expat Life

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Kamea and I decide to find a bus that will take us to the mall, which is about a 12-minute ride from our apartment in Rovigo, Italy.

We walk to the bus stop (a parking lot), where there are four buses sitting, mostly empty. There is one man standing in the middle of the lot, and he looks official. He has on a tie and a vest. Clearly, he’s the ringleader of the bus drivers.

So I go up to him. I ask him if he speaks English, “Buongiorno. Parli inglese?”

He said, “No.”

Then, he put his arm around me, and walks me over to a bus where he said someone does speak English (in Italian, of course). I can see that the person is young – yes, chances are good he speaks some English.

We need to get to the mall.

The man with his arm around me tells the other bus driver I need help. I ask this young driver which bus will take us to the mall.

All of the bus drivers are sitting in their respective buses, talking to each other with the doors open and their feet kicked up on the steering wheels, talking over each other as they are all answering (in Italian) how we get to the mall – a common example of the relaxed and helpful demeanor of Italians. They’re friendly and everyone is willing to jump in and help, offering their expert opinion.

I’m reminded of this when I read in one of my favorite author’s, Elizabeth Minchilli’s book, Eating Rome…

Over the years I’ve learned that if I don’t recognize a vegetable (at the market), I needn’t worry about how to prepare it. A simple “Come se fa?” (“How do you do it?”) usually results not only in the fruttivendolo giving me her favorite recipe, but, nine times out of ten, the other women waiting patiently for their turn will also chime in. Before I know it, I’m the focus of a lively discussion on the merits of whether to roast or braise, garlic versus onion, or the dilemma of deciding to make a soup or pasta.

Back to my day… the young driver confirms that yes, the correct bus to get to the mall is here and points the way.

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Italian Immersion Meeting Locals in Rovigo, Italy – Italian Expat Life

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Connections in Rovigo

There is a salumeria (delicatessen) shop in Rovigo, Italy, that I wandered into recently.

It’s here that I meet an Italian woman — she works here and speaks a bit of English. We’re chatting about why we’re in Rovigo. This is becoming a most familiar question of the locals: “Why Rovigo?”

Well, because our avvocato (lawyer) is here in Rovigo. (Dual citizenship stuff)

Too funny… after sharing more details, we realize that she had actually been the nanny to our lawyer when he was a child. Small world? Yes.

We had a good laugh at that visit.

Biscotti, Bring Me Back

The store has delicious cookies that Kamea likes, so I went in to say ciao one day, and to introduce Kamea and Greg to her. And, of course, to buy some cookies.

As we’re leaving, she invites me to have coffee someday soon so we can just sit down and talk. I’m so happy to receive this invitation. Thrilled, really. A local who wants to be friends! :)

Between the people at English club in Rovigo, getting to know local businesses and the people who own them, meeting our neighbors, and now this lovely lady from the deli who invites me for coffee — we really are living here.

Immersing.

Gosh, will it be hard to leave Rovigo for another city in Italy?

Yes, but — oh my — I have my sites set on a particular town that I’m beyond excited to move to. It ticks my wishlist boxes. We scoped it out on our recent roadtrip-recon-mission. I’ll share all that in a future post.

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Dual Citizenship Process in Italy Officially Begins – Yeah!

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Dual Citizenship Preparations

Prior to leaving on our world travel adventures, we spent a lot of time and money gathering documents to apply for dual citizenship in Italy.

Over twenty documents, from two countries, three U.S. states, multiple counties, and the federal government. Things like birth certificates, death certificates, marriage certificates, name changes, divorce decrees, naturalization documents, and so on. It took months.

Apostilles?

Once we obtained these documents, they each needed a special authentication seal called an apostille, which makes them usable in foreign countries. We sent everything off to get apostilles from their respective secretaries of state for the state in which they were issued.

We finally had everything in our hot little hands.

Once everything was together I carried it all in a waterproof folder for a year in my backpack, while we bounced around Europe. Only a wee bit stressful.

It Begins!

When we finally landed in Italy, the all-important appointment day arrived when we were to take all of our precious documents to the Italian comune — the administrative office for the district where we live. It was the moment where the lady in charge would say either, “Yes, you may have a file created here” or “No, try again because your documents aren’t up to snuff.”

She’s the very important clerk.

She’d be the one processing our paperwork so I made sure to make la bella figura (a good first impression).

Meaning, I wore makeup. And I brought my kid. Italians love kids.

Well, she seemed to give us a nod of approval, so I figured that meant I officially applied.

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Bank Account in Italy – Accomplished!

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jump
Jumping for Joy!

I have a bank account. In Italy.

I am happy and excited, because it was a weird process. I feel kind of cool, too. I mean, like, a bank account in a foreign country? Apart from the less-than-ideal flagging of myself to the IRS, I’m walking with a bit of swagger. Italian swagger that is.

Another step in becoming a part of this community and country.

I wouldn’t have opened an Italian bank account, but I needed to in order to have broadband internet at home. Apparently, they only let you pay for it with an Italian bank account.

Opening the account was touch-and-go for a while. I’m actually amazed it all went through. The bank wasn’t really prepared to make it happen. It’s possible I’m the first non-citizen the manager of this branch had ever helped open an account.

But, after two days of working and waiting – complete with multiple visits to the bank – we finally got it working. At least I got my steps in those days.

For starters, no one at the bank speaks much English, if any. Even armed with Google translate it was an uphill task. But, I figured I was in professional hands and I wasn’t at too much risk. At one point the banker called his wife, who’s an English teacher, to have her translate for me, which wasn’t really clear either because hearing an Italian speak rapid-fire English isn’t much clearer than if she’d been speaking Italian.

I’m getting better at just nodding my head – in a knowing way, smiling, and saying “Si. Si. Si.” Of course, I have no idea, but that doesn’t matter. I learned that when I say non capisco (“I don’t understand”), the Italians just keep repeating themselves and don’t skip a beat, and not a bit slower.

I read about other expats having similar experiences… it’s not just me.

So, I happily signed my name to about 48 Italian bank documents. I mean, it’s just a bank account, isn’t it?

Finished at last!

The banker and I both exhaled loudly once it all went through.

Then, he said in his limited English “your request was very strong for me.”

The bank account has fees, of course. So for our WiFi and SIM cards (totally about $50 a month), I’ll incur an additional ~$10 per month in bank fees. Which is great… sixty dollars for broadband and three mobile device accounts is way less than we ever paid in the U.S.

I wouldn’t have opened one but I needed to in order to have WiFi at home. Apparently, I could only pay for it if I had an Italian bank account. So for the monthly bill of WiFi and SIM cards (totaling about $50 a month), I’ll incur about $10 a month in bank fees on top of it.

But. I’m in Italy.

Living La-friggin’-dolce-vita. I’ve got zero complaints.

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Getting Internet in Italy – Our Expat Life

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Time for Internet in Our Apartment in Italy

Getting WiFi in our apartment in Italy is similar to the USA in that you need to make an appointment for the installation.

Based on horror stories I’d heard, I expected the process to take a month — an eternity when your livelihood depends on broadband internet access.

Yet I’m continually surprised at the efficiency in Italy. It’s not German efficiency, but it’s not Mexican either. The trains in Italy — mostly — run on time. (France, meanwhile…) Where is all the waiting in lines I read about? When I requested an appointment, I only had to wait a week. Sounds reasonable, right?

The day came and the cable guy arrived to hook up the cable. He was punctual, friendly, professional, and efficient. (And German, turns out.)

One Problem

Um… he didn’t bring the cable modem. You know, the one provided by the cable company that sent the technician to our home?

Basically, he just came to make sure I had the hookup. Well, we had the hookup. Apparently the modem would be delivered at some unknown future date. Maybe I will be waiting a month after all?

It’s always sometimes fun experiencing the different ways of having things done when traveling the world. However, I confess some things would benefit from a smattering of American-style urgency. I couldn’t wait for internet in our apartment. We needed it, like, yesterday.

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