Friday, September 13, 2019

The Good, the Bad and the Italy: Newcomer's Guide

Just loaded up my *adorbs* Italian washer with three towels and hit "start".  In all honesty, I probably overdid it and will have to go down and re-spin the whole thing in 50 minutes.  "Va bene."  "It's ok."
This is a fact of housekeeping around which we now plan.

After six months I still do not feel equipped to fairly answer the question, "How do you like living in Italy?"  But I am certain in my answer to, "What do you miss most about the U.S.?" : Convenience.

After the past couple of days I thought I'd start my own guide for the newcomer; i.e. the stuff they won't tell you in orientation.  If you're not planning to move here, perhaps it will make laundry seem a little less tedious, auto repair a little less frustrating, or grocery stops joyous occasions.

1. Everything is hard.
The Italians do not value efficiency.  They don't have to!  This is a country that literally survives on its history and proximity.
Fact: The number of tourists that visit Italy each year exceeds the number of residents.
Fact: The Italian 'boot' is prime real estate, over which NATO has a vested interest, in the center of Europe and the Mediterranean.
So what incentive is there to develop, streamline government, improve infrastructure, or find any new or better way to do ... anything?  The American dream isn't a concept here.  The average Italian works 60 hours a week and doesn't have a mortgage because he shares a house with three generations of his family.
Don't come here expecting to sign a lease in 24 hrs, run errands during riposo (nap time 2:00 - 4:30), or require a home repair during the month of August (when the entire population goes on vacation).  Just take your wins when you win, and bitch to your coworkers when you don't.

2. Know when to draw the line at corruption or extortion.
You'll be thrown in to the concept of 'corruption' immediately, because it has its pizza-floured knuckles wrapped in a tight grip around the military housing placement system.  You can't fight this.  But it's not the end of the world.  You will get your house, and some extra money while you live in a hotel for 60 days.  They will get their money however they get their money.  Va bene.

But down the road six months your car's axle may detach from its frame.  When you report it to the "military friendly, USAA-backed" used car enterprise who sold you the car - and a warranty - outside the front gate, grab your pooper scooper because you're about to start shoveling some BS.  They may tell you that, "they don't usually cover this repair, but they'll make an exception," as long as you "arrive with €250 cash for the 'towing service' (which was actually two guys who showed up and drove the broken vehicle 30 km across town to the shop)."  When you ask them for an invoice in writing, they will refuse with every effort of their being.  Here's your sign: if they won't put it in writing, it's shady as hell.  This is why we have access to base legal and a dozen local Facebook networks.

3. Don't think for a minute that because you are on a military base, you are in America.  
First off, lock up your bike.  Theft is pretty much the only crime here, and it's very real.
Second, the commissary is a great thing.  Government-subsidized groceries with a health standard (?).  You will have access to your Lucky Charms and Tapatio sauce (although I don't recommend combining the two).
But you still need a €1 coin to unlock a shopping cart.  If you show up without one, you will have to go to the ATM, which only carries 50's that day. When you try to buy a cafe to get change for the shopping cart, they won't have enough € in the drawer to complete the exchange.  Then you will have to walk around the food court asking each counter if they can break your €50.
You may arrive at the commissary when it opens, but this is efficient, so you will not be rewarded.  Instead, only one register will be open so you will have to go through the self-checkout with your $150 of groceries, including produce.  You will confuse the scale in the bagging area of the self-checkout with your excess amount of items, so you will have to pause after each and every item (even the packet of taco sauce mix) to listen to the warning about 'putting the item in the bagging area.'  At least this warning will be repeated in clear and authoritative English.

4. Know the difference between a Neopolitan vs. an Italian making a living off of NATO services.
This is really important.  Our landord, our neighbors, the girl at the wine-and-fruit stand, the gentleman who runs the vineyard around the corner, and the hard-working guys at the car wash.... they are all lovely people.  And they really try to meet you halfway when you try to speak their language.
But WARNING: If an Italian has a € to make off of the fact that you are an American living in Italy on military orders, you will be taken for a ride.  Either get on board or take a translator with you out in town.

5. Scooters don't care.
It's not worth getting mad at them.  But you'd never forgive yourself if you hit one.  Just keep your head on a swivel and stay out of the way.

6. Get out, go, eat, drink!
People wait and save their entire lives to visit the place where you live.  It may accelerate your aging process and make your eye twitch, but to not take advantage... what a waste.  Get on the train to Rome (56 minutes), get on a plane to Venice (1 hr / $27), drive to the Amalfi coast (1 hr), and have your fill of vino rosso, pizza margherita, and gelato limone that will forever ruin dessert for you.

Moral of the story, you can take the American out of America, but you can't take America out of the American.  It's tough to embrace the Italian way when you're still working American hours at an American job, driving an American-sized commute.  There's an intentional numbing to a lot of the chaos, and I predict that I will always feel a bit like we're swimming upstream here.  But, va bene.  Perhaps when we do go home we will truly appreciate the land of opportunity.

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