Un gioco di che non so i regolamenti...

The Italian bureaucracy seems to me to be like a beautifully choreographed dance with no music or explanation. It has been a trial at every turn, and truthfully if I didn't speak Italian, I don't know where I would be.

Upon entering Italy, a student has eight days to apply for a permesso di soggiorno (permit to stay). This is in addition to the visa, so for those of you who remember my difficulties in obtaining one of those, this is something completely different.

SDA Bocconi, my school, accepts many foreign students, so the administrator of my program
has provided a guide to filing all of these forms in the student handbook. My third day here I decided that it was time to start filing my papers so that I can get a fiscal code for a bank account and a cell phone. So, after visiting three different post offices and waiting probably for twenty to thirty minutes at each, I was finally referred to another agency the name of which I still am not clear on. Yesterday someone there told me to return at seven this morning to take care of my business.

I arrived at the door to the building at 6:45am, in the dark and the rain. There were already two others waiting there. We waited. Over the course of the next 45 minutes, more people came. We waited in silence. At one point, there was a small drama with a couple of garbage trucks. Everyone turned around to watch, silently. Because nothing else had gone on in the small alley-like street for so long, my silent waiting companions seemed grateful to have something to occupy their attention. I felt no need to turn around, but I seemed to be the minority in this regard.

Someone finally arrived at 7:30 to let us in. He opened the gate and we waited closer to the entrance, but not quite inside. Then he let us into the building and gave us all numbers. We waited in the lobby until 8:15. We were then shown into a room with a yellow linoleum floor and almost matching institutional yellow walls on the second floor of the building. We waited.

We waited until 8:40 or so when people finally came out to start seeing us. I was third in line. When it finally reached my turn, I sat down at the table and told the two people sitting across from me, that all I needed was a kit with the forms for my permit to stay. They told me they didn't have the kits there. I almost cried. Almost but not quite, grazie a dio.

I explained my situation in halting, upset Italian. When I'm tired or frustrated it becomes much more difficult for me to speak well. They said they could help me. We talked for a few minutes after which time they told me to return for an appointment on Monday. I'm hoping that the waiting is finally done. But we shall see. On Monday it could all begin anew.