Il Soggiorno, Il Lavoro, e Il Nullaosta, part 3

6. May 9th: I Went to the DPL
Having been given the advice by the Prefettura to go to the Direzione Provinciale del Lavoro di Firenze (the Labor department of the province of Florence), or DPL as I've been referring to it, I decided to go there after sharing what I had learned with the company trying to hire me. Like me, they were surprised and frustrated to hear the explanation given for the rejection of my request. At this point I had pretty much abandoned all hope of obtaining a work permit, but I figured that there was no harm in making a final attempt. And so on Friday, May 9th, the exact day on which my student visa expired, I rode down to the DPL.

The inside of the DPL felt much like any state-run office I've ever been in, anywhere. It's bland, dingy with a borderline dirty feel, and has the atmosphere of being entirely functional (a particularly un-Italian trait). I didn't know who exactly I needed to see and there was no front desk at which I could ask, so I wandered the halls for a bit. After about 10 minutes I stopped a lady in the hall and asked if she could help me. I told her what I had come to do and she kindly led me to where I needed to go. I stood in line for 10-15 minutes with a group of about 13 other people - some Italian, some not. When my turn finally came around I went in the office and was greeted by a woman that couldn't have been more than 2 years older than me. She asked me how she could help, and I explained my situation. She reluctantly concurred with the explanation as it was written on my rejection noticed, to which I nodded and then contested, explaining why the whole situation didn't make sense. She was very kind and empathetic, even if not at all helpful. In the end she asked me if I was able to write in Italian, and then had me write a letter to the head of the department, explaining in detail my situation and asking if there was anything that could be done to aid the situation.

It felt much like an exam, and for anyone who's studied Italian, think back to when you had to write papers or do written exercises. It's considerably more difficult to write than it is to speak or read. Add on the the pressure of doing this in a public office, where the recipient is a state official from whom you need assistance to remain in the country. Anyway, I got it done and handed it over. She told me that it would be processed by post (of course), and I would receive a response by the same. Obviously, I don't count on a response before I'm already back in the US. Anyway, that was that and I don't think I could have done anything better than I did it. I didn't come here with the intention of remaining and working, and so I had to learn in a trial-by-fire method. Things still would have taken a long time, but the processes would have been started earlier.

I'm probably not the first person to do this, but I'd wager that I'm one of very few people that have been to the Bargello and the DPL in the same day, and believe me when I say the experiences polar opposites. It would be nice to stay here, but I don't regret the way things have concluded. I find this odd sense of peace strange because normally regret is one of my more potent feelings, and especially because I really like the idea of staying. For some reason though, things just seem in place, and for that I am thankful. I know that some day, in some capacity, I will be here again.

Il Soggiorno, Il Lavoro, e Il Nullaosta, part 2

3. December 21st: The company requested a nullaosta to hire me.
A week or so before Christmas, the company started the paperwork that would hopefully result in permission being granted to hire me. This kind of request is called a nullaosta and by itself is a complicated process, so adding my unique situation laid the foundation for a bureaucratic casino (a mess). My situation was this: I'm here under a student visa which would allow me to receive a permesso di soggiorno da studio (permit to study), which in turn would allow me to work a maximum of 20 hours per week throughout its validity. I need that converted from a permesso da studio (permit to study) to a permesso da lavoro (permit to work) in order to take the full time position. Oh yeah, and I need that conversion done based on a permit that will never be realized because its issuance won't even be considered until 3 months after I will have had to leave Italy.

4. I waited.
After some research by the administrative worker at the company, he was led to believe by the labor department that this could be done. He was encouraged and thus so was I. We submitted the paperwork and waited. And waited. After the occasional email correspondence with the company and no news from the police, I resolved to suck it up and go to the Questura (police station). If you are unaware of what a trip to the Questura is like, read Erin's post about hers or thumb through Melinda Gallo's many. It was March by now, so I had waited a little over 2 months before running out of patience. After about 4 hours in line (a relatively short time for the Questura), I learned that I would have to go to the Prefettura (prefect's office) to get news about the processing of my nullaosta. Two days later I went to the Prefettura, which directed me to a different office. I went to that office where I was told that I couldn't be there unless I had been summoned, and if I wanted information I had to request it by phone. The offices to which the number rang were open Monday-Thursday from 10am to 2pm (this is a classic example of Italian bureaucracy and reminds me of this video). After calling for two days with no answer, I retired to checking the notices on the website which never seemed to change.

5. May 7th: I received an official denial.
On May 7th I received my official rejection letter from the Sportello Unico per l'Immigrazione (main immigration office). They provided a reason for the rejection which shouldn't have surprised me. It read that according to the labor department:

"Il richiedente, da quanto dichiarato in domanda, non risulta in possesso del permesso di soggiorno per studio."

As all things bureaucratic, the language is quite removed and archaic. Basically it says that the person asking cannot be granted the conversion because he does not actually have the permit to be converted. Sounds logical enough right? I'd say so. Perfectly reasonable, except for the part where the same department said that one didn't have to have the permit in order to convert it! Probably about an hour after I read the notice I received a phone call from the Prefettura, saying that they had a document for me regarding my request and I needed to come and pick it up. I told him that I had just received a document from the post office and that it sounded like the same one. He said that wasn't possible, so I hopped on my bike with a vain hope giving my legs an uncommon strength. I arrived only to receive the same document, to which the man sincerely apologized. He said that I could go to the labor department and ask about the rejection, and it was possible that they could help me.

I thanked him and left his office, and on my way out I had a nice chat with a couple of the workers about my situation. It's fairly common in my experience for an Italian to be interested in an American, especially one that can speak Italian. They weren't sure that I was American until they point blank asked, to which they responded:

Un Americano!? Che vuole lavorare in Italia!? Come mai!?
An American!? That wants to work in Italy!? Why in the world!? (literally "How ever")

This is a normal reaction I get, usually when I say I came to study Italian but it ups it a notch when I say I'm trying to get a job here. Talking to them was a nice break from the processes, and a nicer break from English.

That's enough for this post. One more coming and that should be enough on this topic.

Il Soggiorno, Il Lavoro, e Il Nullaosta, part 1

As the days of our departure from Italy approach at an ever-increasing speed, I wake up each morning unsure of what to expect. For the last few days I've been anxious, and if you were to ask me what I am anxious about you might be given a long, overly thought out and highly theoretical explanation that is resulting from continuous self (re)revaluation. It really is annoying at times and I imagine that it has a good bit to do with why I haven't posted in a while. Much has happened since my last actual post, and as always you can find scintillating retellings of those events on the blog of my saner, prettier, and all around better half: the olive notes.

Some of you know that I was offered a job in smaller city just outside of Florence, in December of last year. If you knew that then you probably have some idea of the ordeal it has been working through the bureaucracy of obtaining a work permit. If not, suffice it to say it's been stereotypically ridiculous, and at this point the legal possibility of me being able to work in Italy within the next year or two is all but gone. Here's a quick summary of how the events have played out.

1. September Something 2007: I was given an impossible date to receive my permesso di soggiorno.
The permesso di soggiorno (permit to stay) gives legal permission to the holder from the Italian government to remain in Italy for a determined amount of time. They aren't so easy to come by if you don't have a reason to be in the country, such as an existing work offer or you are a student at an Italian university. We came here as students so it wasn't/wouldn't have been so difficult. The time we were/would have been granted was pinned exactly to the visa we received, which in turn was pinned to how long we would be in school. In order to receive the soggiorno you must fill out a kit of forms, pay for their processing, wait to be contacted with a date for an interview at the Questura (police station), attend the interview, and finally pick up the soggiorno from the Questura if all went well.

Unfortunately things didn't really fall into place like that, primarily due to a restructuring of the process for submitting, processing, and receiving the soggiorno. I forget the exact date on which we turned in our kits to the post office, but it was in early September, 2007. A week or so later we each recieved SMS messages (which were later followed by lettere raccomandate (certified letters)), from the Ministero dell'Interno (Internal Ministry). Erin's interview was set for February 14th, and mine for some date in July. Yes, July, 2008. Not only is that a ridiculously long wait, but our school ended in April, which means they scheduled my interview to see if I was legally eligible to receive a permesso for a date 3 months after that permesso would have expired. So, legally speaking, I will have spent 9 months in Italy during which the government was thinking about whether or not I was allowed to be there, with a final decision to be made 3 months after I will have already left. Hmm.

2. December 19th 2007: I was offered a job.
I was surprised, elated, and honored to have been offered a job by an Italian company at the end of last year. Software development is not something Italy is known for, but this group is an exceptional one and they do not normally hire foreigners. They offered me a year-long contratto determinato (temporary contract) which would likely be renewed as a contratto indeterminato (permanent contract) after it ended. I would have been working with other talented software developers (something I value highly) in an Italian office - another thing that excited me as it would force my Italian to a higher level of competence.

I'll continue the rest in a new post. Stick around as there's some actual news, and if you're looking to do something like I was you may find it useful.

A presto!

Another Particularly Beautiful Day

It's 3:30. We finished our final class a couple of hours ago, and it was great. Work had kept me from a few classes this week, so it was nice being there for both again. In conversation today Erin gave a presentation on the Lost Colony, which was really neat because sadly it's not a well-known story, even among Americans. Presentations on our home countries had been regular fixtures in conversation for the last month or so. It was great because there were so many countries represented, and even more so because our teacher loved asking provocative questions. Great for learning and gaining perspective, and of course great for speaking. The discussion of course found its way to Bush, America's occupation of Iraq and international behavior, and the upcoming elections. I always like hearing what other students have to say about America and Americans, because regarding international affairs Americans tend to have at least these presumptions:

1) The perspective of America is (almost) always right and therefore ignoring consensus isn't a problem.
2) Foreigners, especially Europeans (and especially the French), do not like Americans.

Number one is a tired subject, so I'll just skip to number two and say that it's just plain not true. Are there people that just don't like Americans because we are American? Probably, but I've never met one. Instead I've had pleasant encounters with some older people that spoke gratefully of the liberation they received during WWII. Of course the younger generation is different, but even they don't have a blind opinion. In class we heard opinions, some not flattering and rightfully so, but I've still yet to encounter someone that actually believes Americans as people to be just plain evil or otherwise undesirable. Do they have differing world views and opinions? Of course, but then how could it be any different? Things apply and make sense to different people based on how their cultures and societies have evolved. This is not a good or bad thing, it's simply reality.

Looking out the window now at the apartments that have become so familiar to me, it really is a beautiful day. As I said before I am glad to have a break from school, but I'm not ready for it to be over. Reflecting now I feel as if I've only just received all of the pieces to a puzzle, so now how will I assemble the picture? Eh vabbeh, it will be assembled.

L'Ultima Settimana di Classe

This is the last week of our classes. I am so far from being ready to be finished I can't even think of how to express it. It has been a rich experience through and through. Before we arrived here I had thought that the amount of time we would be spending at school would be plenty, and now of course I see how ignorant a thought that was. I have learned so much, but there is still so much to learn. I feel that grammatically I have digested quite a lot, but my vocabulary and competence in idioms and modes of saying are lacking. These things, of course, take time and immersion.

I'm not sure what's next in terms of my studies. I simply can't stop, so I will figure out a routine and make it a point to spend more time with my Italian friends. The time to return to the US is nearing, and I really don't like thinking about it. It's still home and I miss it in some ways (friends and family specifically), but this place has become a bit of a home too. Of course we don't know what the future holds for us, but I feel that Italy fits into it somehow.

Terremoti Oggi

We have been experiencing mild earthquakes since this 8:43 CET morning. Erin and I woke up to one, and while typing this post we just felt another one (11:50 CET). The first one we felt registered at 4.2 on the richter scale, and the epicenter was just northeast of Florence. Here are links to the first report and general news updates (in Italian).

I don't guess it's all that strange given that there are volcanoes in Italy, it's just not wrapped in the wine/olive oil/sunflower stereotype. On top of that I've never experienced an earthquake and I would have thought that when I did, it would have been in California. Anyway it's a new experience. A bit frightening, but they've been very mild, so I'm going to relax with a caffe` and read my 'new' Dylan Dog (issue 111) that I picked up this morning on the way to the St. Ambrogio market.

A presto!

Bella Giornata

My weather widget is telling me that it's 17 degrees celsius, as of 5:36pm CET. I still think in terms of fahrenheit, but I've gotten better at knowing the mild, cold, and really cold ranges in celsius. Google has informed me that this is 62.6 degrees fahrenheit, which is quite warm in comparison to the days as they've been. On top of that it has been absolutely gorgeous.

Erin and I walked to Il Parco delle Cascine today, to check out the market which is much larger during Quaresima (Lent). It was a long walk, but after getting to the river it wasn't too crowded. The market was like most markets here, from my perspective anyway. It was a bit more festive and at times seemingly cheaper, but still a very Italian market. I saw many different people there, as is common in the markets, and of course almost everywhere else in Florence. Life is different here. People are different here. They tend to be outside more than people in the US. Not necessarily for any reason, and in fact usually for no practical reason at all. People just go outside and stroll along the Arno, through the streets, or hang out in the squares - simply to be in each other's company.

As I was pondering over this at the market I saw lots of children. Italy has one of the lowest birthrates in the western world (second lowest I think), so this was a bit of a surprise. Even more surprising were the 2 fathers I saw without their wives, walking with a total of 4 children probably all under the age of 7! I saw another pair of boys running through the crowds, and then they stopped under a tent just beside us. One of the boys saw a wad of tape and paper on the ground, and exclaimed:

Guarda qui c'e` una pallina!
Look here there's a ball!

Immediately he and his friend began kicking it back and forth through the crowds. I've been in particularly reflective state of mind today, and this became the subject of my pondering for quite a while. I thought about how I was when I was a child. The games I played, where and how I played, with whom and in what times of the day or evening. When you're a child there is nothing outside of your world. You may even know everything by the age of 10, and if you don't then you are at least already aware of everything in some manner. Thinking about when I was a child and then watching those kids today caused me to experience a peculiar kind of retrospective culture shock. When I was 10 I had no idea that there were kids like me in Italy, playing their own games, living in a world and culture similar to mine and at the same time so very different. It caused a twisted torrent of emotions to flow through me - happiness, sadness, romance, excitement... I can't figure out what the feeling is exactly, but it's surely the same one that I've been experiencing and which has been evolving in me since we moved here. It feeds my infatuation with this place, but in a seemingly less fickle way.

The Muse has stopped. Buonasera :-).

Back to Normal...

It looks like the strike has come to an end.

Viva la repubblica!

Terza Giorno Dello Sciopero

Produce section at the COOP where we shop.
Today is Wednesday, the third day of the national strike of the autotrasportatori (truck drivers). This means that no products whose delivery depends on the truckers, including produce, dairy, meat, and gas, are being delivered anywhere in the country. The grocery store shelves are starting to thin out and the streets are gradually becoming more and more tranquil.

Running out of cheese!
What is the strike about? Money of course. The truckers are claiming that they need more money to combat the rising costs of diesel. Great. Newsflash - Italy is expensive and many workers in many job sectors are in desperate need of higher pay. Is the answer to effectively hold a key piece of national infrastructure hostage and drag the economy to a grinding halt? Now let me clearly state that I believe strongly in workers rights and protection, but to me this is borderline terrorism and should not be tolerated.

Here is an article (in English) about the happenings. Viva Italia!