Perhaps I should change my blog name to “Help! I live with Italians”. This week has just been a bang up job of mishaps and sideways crap. Yesterday I made a 10-year-old boy cry. Yeah, I feel terrible about it. He is bad, there is no doubt about that, but perhaps I lost my cool a bit too much this time.
To say that I am bit stressed would be putting in mildly. I finally have a bit of respite from Mama and have been enjoying my time with my husband immensely but that doesn’t mean that the world stops revolving either.
I’ve been waiting for him to arrive home before applying for my residency here. Of course with any official document here there are rings of fire to jump through along with it. Nobody seems to be able to tell me much of anything and now all hell has broken loose and I am being held captive in the house.
Every vacation with my husband in the past 2 years has involved standing in lines at government offices applying for various permissions and documents. Moving to Grand Cayman was easier! When all this is said and done hopefully I will look back and laugh at the absurdity of it all. But right now I am not amused.
It appears that everything hangs in the wings for this residency document and if I am denied again I lose everything. My Permesso, my medical etc. We re-applied today because apparently the police came to the house 3 times and I wasn’t here.
Afterwards, my husband forgot my original Permesso di Soggiorno in a coffee shop! As we were strolling past the village I glanced down and asked where was that bag you were carrying? YIKES! Only 10 minutes had passed but we were in a very busy tourist area and an Original Permesso di Soggiorno is like finding someone’s Passport…and if you remember my last post, I don’t have one of those either at the moment! Luckily we arrived back at the coffee shop just as someone had picked up the mysterious bag and I yelled “questo io” “that’s mine”!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
And here we go again with the local Police too. I’ve got 3 Police officers in my family and I have to tell you, these Italian Polizia are really starting to get on my nerves. I didn’t know that my living here was such a threat to National security!
So now I am getting into fights with my husband and of course my mother in law and sister-in-law are also involved. It seems that they think I should quit my job or ask for an unplanned vacation until all this is sorted out! How did this situation get so dire so fast? Two weeks ago when we made the first application my husband was les affaires about the whole deal. Certainly they must understand that I work and that I am not going to be chained to the kitchen 24/7?
But this is also where things got very Italian and complicated and made no sense to me. My husband tells the clerk I am not home some afternoons because I teach English. Then in the same breath she asks what is my occupation and he replies “casalinga” (housewife). Huh? And what’s even stranger to me is that she did not blink an eyelash over the obvious contradiction!
I think clearly I’m not drinking enough wine or something because I just don’t get this place at all…