Dreaming of exporting yourself to the Bel Paese? Here are some thoughts and resources on doing just that.
This Spring marks the sixth anniversary of my first Italian class, and while I tend to think I should be further along than I am, I also am reasonably proud of myself when I’m able to understand and communicate with the Italians I’ve met. There have been bumps on the road - pretty significant ones at times - but I’m usually able to decipher what’s going on and mutter some kind of reply. (It helps that the husband is usually with me, as between the two of us we can almost always get the full picture of the conversation.)
It is, therefore, with mixed feelings that I read about the various dialects which are so prevalent in Italy. Sure, the Italian government has just made Italian the national language of Italy, and wherever you go throughout the country you’ll be able to communicate using Italian, but a new report released recently says that Italy’s many dialects are still alive and kicking.
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Even if you’re prepared for culture shock, that doesn’t mean it’s going to be any less, well, shocking. And, as we’re learning already, it begins even before you’ve left the comfort of home.
Take, for instance, the Italian tendency toward procrastination. It’s well-documented, and we’ve read about it - there’s a habit in Italy to get a week’s worth of work done in a few days right next to the deadline. But just knowing about it isn’t always helpful. In our case, we’re very much feeling the deadline of the husband’s impending joblessness, and …
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I can’t count the number of times I’ve wandered through the streets of an Italian town (take your pick) and thought, “I wonder what it would be like to live here?” Where would my local market be? What transportation would I use? Would I make friends with my neighbors? Would the local cafe owner recognize me if I came in every day? Would I ever stop thinking “WOW” every time I looked out my window?
Yes, I’ve thought often about what it would be like to live in Italy, but I’ve not done nearly as much thinking about what it would be like to move there. The very same things that make densely-packed Italian streets so charming to wander and photograph would, it appears, make them a nightmare to anyone moving house. There wouldn’t be any gigantic U-Haul moving truck pulling up in front of an Italian apartment building, I can tell you that. And in the older apartment buildings, the ones without elevators, you think someone is hauling a sofa up six flights of stairs? I doubt it.
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While it’s still no piece of cake to get a permit to live in Italy if you’re a non-EU citizen, there have been some efforts made recently to make the process smoother. Once upon a time, you needed to get or renew your Permesso di Soggiorno (permit to stay) by going to the Questura and having at the ready documentation of employment and a rental agreement or proof of home ownership.
Nowadays, thanks to the Prodi government, you can get a packet of forms called, amusingly, “Il Kit” - which is available at every single post office in the country - and return the completed forms to the post offices which have people on staff to process them (that’s 5,332 post offices, according to Emma Bird). That certainly does make it sound easier to get the proper paperwork. Now all we have to do is find the proper job.
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There are many ways to learn a foreign language - some of them are harder than others, and certainly some are more fun than others. As someone who can remember the lyrics to countless 80s songs but not verb conjugations, I can totally get into the idea of learning a language through song.
As I’ve mentioned, the husband and I have been collecting Italian pop CDs for awhile. We especially love singers who enunciate their words enough for us to hear them (even if we don’t always understand them), and those who put the lyrics on the CD sleeves. Occasionally we’ve taken the time to translate songs, if only to get the gist of a favorite one or two. This produced funny results once when I translated a song I just liked because of its melody, and it turned out to be quite sexual, indeed…
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Well, apparently I’ve been working toward living in the wrong European country. Either that, or my Outer European is the dominant one here and my Inner European has learned to keep her damned mouth shut. Really, though, my favorite color is orange, so maybe there’s something to this…
Your Inner European is Dutch!
Open minded and tolerant.
You’re up for just about anything.
Who’s Your Inner European?
Of course, the other option is that it’s nigh to …
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Winter term just finished at the community college where I teach beginning Italian, and I’ve got a week now before the Spring term starts and I get a whole new crop of eager students. This last term was a tough one for me, mainly because I had a disproportionately high number of students who were really on top of their studies… Which is a good thing, don’t get me wrong - it’s just that it meant I couldn’t hang out on auto-pilot the way I have for the last few terms.
For instance, one student brought something to my attention that I had literally never seen before in the book that I’ve had in my possession for probably seven years - and had never noticed in other Italian books or classes (though of course as soon as I realized it I heard it everywhere, figures). I’ve been teaching it incorrectly for the past year. While it should be exciting for me to learn something new, furthering my own language studies and skills, it was quite discouraging to know that I’ve been confidently (blindly?) teaching something and my students have been trusting enough to accept it. It only reinforces in my head that the more one learns, the more one has to learn.
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I know plenty of people who steer clear of the doctor’s office at almost any price. I’m not one of them. If my usual arsenal of pain relievers or whatever else I have stashed away isn’t doing the trick, I’m on the phone to the doc’s office, where the nurses often know me by name. Several of my girlfriends are not only not interested in going to the regular doctor’s office, however, they get anxiety attacks about their annual visit to the gynecologist. Needless to say, I didn’t pass along this expat’s experience with the gyno in Italy:
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A few years ago while visiting our expat friends who live north of Venice, the husband and I stood for a moment over her desk, looking out the window that is her view all day (she works from home). The window overlooks a rushing river and, in the distance, the foothills of the Dolomites. It’s beautiful, and ever-changing with the weather. We said we hoped she never forgot how lucky she is to be living in Italy, and to have such a view. She assured us they do everything in their power to
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Anyone who thinks the American political system is confusing is warned to not even attempt to figure out the Italian political system. (”System” might be a bit of a strong word to use there.) The husband actually did a bit of research into the whole process for an Italian class last year - I’ll try to get the electronic file from him to post it at a later date.
On the surface, it doesn’t seem like Italian elections would be so different from any other - they’re electing members to Parliament, they’re electing a Prime Minister. Sounds familiar, right? So far, it is relatively familiar. It’s when we start talking about Italian political parties that my eyes glaze over. There are political coalitions which form, but there are so many political parties within those coalitions that I’m convinced some of them are populated by only the members of one household. Each party has its own insignia, like the daisy at left, so the list of parties can be quite colorful.
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