Where can a Protestant eat?

Today is a holiday in Italy. All Saints Day -- a day to celebrate saints (known, and unknown; living, and dead). Church bells have been pealing all morning. 

All Saints is the middle of a series of three religious days. October 31 is All Hallows Evening (from where we in the US get Halloween). November 1 is All Saints Day. And November 2 is All Souls Day (celebrating the Faithful Dead -- but apparently not the downright evil dead, or even the lapsed Catholic dead). 

At any rate, I'm off work today, banks and stores are closed today. I think people are supposed to go to church -- not sure if that really happens because everyone is at home cooking for their big autumn foods feast. 

I'm hoping if I stroll into the touristy part of town some non-Catholics will be serving food!

Where can a Protestant eat in this town???!!!

Cecilia 3: bureaucracy 0

I laid the groundwork, in advance of getting my CF, to open two other wildly necessary elements to life as a foreigner in Italy. A bank account in Euros and a Partita Iva.

Cross border banking has become mired in red tape, especially for Americans, where FATCA strives to ensure you can’t hide funds from the omniscience of the IRS. And banks worldwide are charged with keeping vigilant for customers attempting to take part in global financial crimes. So even opening an account is difficult for foreigners.  

However, I was lucky to find an American friend who has an investment banker who speaks perfect English AND has accounts for foreigners living in Italy. 

Next, the Partita Iva seems to be the equivalent of a Sole Proprietorship in the US. Basically I’ve opened a tiny business, through an accountant indicating my expectations to pay taxes. I will use this PI to work for others, invoicing them for my services. Theoretically this tiny business could grow, and in the future I may have the opportunity to employ Italians. 

So, both my banker and my accountant were waiting for me to provide the CF to complete the transactions. I emailed PDF copies to each on Halloween. Boom! Boom! Slam dunk! 

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When is an ATM card not an ATM card?

My administrivial task for today is to reload my ATM card... This is not my bank card for taking cash from the machine (here, called a bancomat), but is instead my Azienda Trasporti Milanesi card -- which grants me unlimited access to subways, trams (think SFO street cars), and city buses for a whopping 35 Euro per month. (For another 10 Euro per month I could take bicycles from point to point, but I haven't gathered the courage to bike yet.)

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ATM has a fabulous app, which allows you to check the status of the transit system (very handy in a country where a transit strike is threatened once per month, and often doesn't materialize). You can find the closest transit option to you, plan routes, etc. 

The absolute best feature, from my perspective, is the ability to check the status of the various transit offices throughout the city, see how many people are in line, and TAKE A TICKET on your phone!!! You don't even need to be there to take the ticket!!!!! This is very handy if you see there are already 100 people in line, and it will take you 15 minutes to get there. Additionally, you can refresh know the ticket number being called RIGHT NOW. You can pop out, have a caffe or gelato, and still be in line!!!!! 

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The only downside to the app, imho, is that while you can reload daily passes via the app, you cannot reload the monthly pass. For that you must go to the transit office, or -- and this is really interesting! -- you can reload from the bancomat machine of UniCredit bank! Wow. 

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So, there was no one in line... I took a paper ticket when I got there, I was third... and within 5 minutes, I'm on the road again for another month! 

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Smells like the DMV

Today I am at the Agenzia Delle Entrate (Agency of the State). I’ve come here to get my Codice Fiscale - which seems to be a person number, almost like an SSN but not quite.  

It could be a government office in any state, or probably any country. 

I came early to get a jump on the crowd. There are lots of lines with signage. You get your forms from the counter, and fill them out. You make copies with a coin op copier. Then you show your completed forms at the counter and they will give you an official number. 

Then you sit in the waiting room on hard chairs, staring at the screen, waiting for your number. 

We had our change to Standard Time this weekend, and the large clock is not only 1 hour off, but also 5 extra minutes wrong for good measure. 

I can wait here until 9:50... then I must rush off to work... if I haven’t been called by then I’ll be back enjoying the government hospitality again tomorrow. 

 

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Yelping

I've started reviewing restaurants and other attractions I experience -- from an American perspective --  on Yelp.  To access my Yelps, scroll to the bottom of the page and click the Yelp icon. 

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Dirty hands!

This is such a freaky comment, I'm almost embarrassed to state it in bits and bytes, but here goes. My fingernails get so dirty here! I'm serious. I don't know why, I don't know how... Maybe it's the public transportation. 

I look at my hands and feel like I've been working in the tobacco fields all day! 

Finally back online!!!!!!!!!!!!!

After an awfully long tantrum and pout, I've finally been re-phone-janated! 

The DTs experienced going from an iPhone to a flip phone were horrendous. I'm here to tell you we might all become zombies simply if the electricity and WIFI go out. It's a real possibility! No bite needed.

I've got an unlocked Italian iPhone now (no thanks to Boost Mobile) and can take photos and GoPro again, but I'm really sad about the things I didn't get the opportunity to show you:

  • The old German ladies wearing bikinis on the beach
  • The old italian men wearing bikinis on the beach (not sure which was worse!)
  • My trip to Castiglion Fiorentino, with its Etruscan ruins
  • My trip to Orvieto, with amazing frescoes
  • Wonderful Arezzo, where I spent two weeks at Italian language camp
  • New friends from my time in Arezzo
  • Frescoes in Arezzo
  • Dapper old Italian men strolling the promenade in Viareggio in linen pants and straw hats
  • A group of ex-pats I've met in Milano and the party I attended
  • And so much more... I'm verklempt. 

At any rate, I have my phone now, and I'm headed to the stazione to pick up my friend Leanne, who is here for a visit from the US! (Ok, OK, she's technically from Canada...... but she's coming from CLT!)

More soon!!

Mannaggia!

I still cannot get my iPhone unlocked... and my current lodging doesn't have wifi!!! I have to drink birra and vino in cafes to have access to wifi!!!!!!!!

hurricane season

My thoughts and prayers are with Americans in Florida facing the impact of Irma, and everyone in the paths of Jose and Katia. 

aaaand, we're off!

No announcement was made, no conductor walked through with info. We mostly sat there quietly as sheep do... A few of the bold got up and stormed out with raised voices and flailing gestures. But the Sister and I, we held steady. 

And 30 minutes after our scheduled depature time, with nary an announcement, the treno slowly made its way from the binario out into the countryside of Lombardia. 

I expected my trip would take me Milano to Genova to Monterosso, without a change of trains for me. But when we reached a stop in Genova (Brindisi, Brignole, boh!) everyone was departing, and a young Italian man stopped to tell me (in Inglese! how do they always know!!??!!) that the train ended here. Wha!?  Guess this was due to the unexpected delay perhaps throwing me into a differently scheduled train. 

No matter! I grabbed my things and headed into the main station, where the nice young man had already flagged down a train employee who was cursing at his excruciatingly slow iPad to show which binario I needed to hit to catch the next available ride to Monterosso

The train to Monterosso

I hurriedly took the metro to the main stazione, where I bought a ticket for Monterosso (via Genova) leaving in 20 minutes. 

This was cutting it close and I ran up the multiple levels of inclined escalators (think airport people-mover on an incline... like a Whole Foods cart transport).  

I waited through a security line where tickets were checked, then found the Bin (binario) where my treno was already parked. The tickets had no class designation, so I found a nice single seat with room in the aisle where I could park my rolling bag, and was shortly joined across from me by a nun in full habit. 

And we waited for our train to leave... and waited... and waited. 

a management decision

Drew had been calling around to his friends and colleagues, asking if anyone had an extra smartphone handy (near the office) which I could borrow until I get the issue solved. 

Apparently a friend had one, and received assurances from Drew that "yes, yes, it's for me, seriously, it's only for me, I'm the only one who will be using it!". But his friend was in a meeting, and a quick check of the train schedule indicated that I really needed to go if I wanted to make Monterosso before the dark of night. 

A quick check on the Milano-version of Craigslist showed there were no smartphones cheap and close... so I made a management decision.

We removed the Wind SIM from the iPhone, performed a delicate surgery to wedge this smaller SIM into a plastic framework that would fit into my flip phone, and tested my flip for call-ability. 

Then I was off! 

American telecom protectionism!

So Luisella and I rushed back down to the Wind shop. Only to find there was now a line of customers needing help, and the clerk had changed in our absence. 

We stood there quietly and patiently (because, you know how I respect and revere the quiet dignity of standing in line). And as luck would have it our original clerk popped his head back into the shop to speak with the current clerk. 

Luisella was on him like white on rice! Her vowels and syllables were flying and my ears were smoking just trying to listen for words I understood. Eventually I stopped trying to translate and simply trusted my friend to take care of me. 

Apparently it's well known throughout Europe of American iPhone locks, but it is the onus of the customer to get the phone unlocked. There was nothing Wind could do for me. 

So we trudged upstairs with heavy hearts.