Soovs in the ooza.

I am thinking about writing a book. It will be a book containing phrases that I've learned in conversation that are specific to Tuscany. All regions of Italy have their own sayings, the Milanese will not necessarily understand you if you use a Tuscan phrase. Learning these is fun, but knowing when to use them in conversation is even more fun. When I throw one of these into conversation with my local barista or Florentine friends, you should see the looks on their faces. Some of them are not appropriate for me to post here, in fact when I learn them, I always ask if it is something I can say in school. That's usually the litmus test for how bad the phrase actually is. There are also other words such as "babbo" and "bisnonno" that are used in Tuscany, but recognized by other regions. Florentines say "babbo" for dad and "bisnonno" for great grandfather. While others will understand you, they will immediately you know you are from Tuscany upon hearing them.

Some examples:

"Marpione," describes someone who is trying to swindle you. Can also be used to ward off persistent Italian men. This one has been very, very helpful. In fact I think every American female who plans to travel to Tuscany should learn this word before learning "buongiorno" or even "bagno". 

"Permaloso," a person who is sensitive and offended easily. 

"Polaretto," very cold, literally, like ice. 

The rest of them... well... you might just have to wait for the book.

Those of you who know me well know that Teen Vogue is hands down my favorite publication. You can just imagine what a delight it was for me to come across "Topgirl," the closest thing in Italian. After reading one issue I realized that this is my preferred method of learning slang and conversational Italian, as it addresses topics of conversation you would have with your friends, in the informal way you would be speaking with them.

It came to my attention that the Italians have a very interesting way of pronouncing acronyms. For example, if something is "Made in the USA" they say "ooh-za," and if written it is often seen as "Usa". An S.U.V. is "soov". European Union (Unione Europea) is "ooh-weh". These things make me chuckle every time I hear them. It makes sense to pronounce them this way, however entertaining it may be. If you are mid-sentence trying to describe an S.U.V., it interrupts the flow of speech to stop and pronounce every letter, right? "Soov" flows very nicely from one word to the next. It is my personal mission to incorporate this into the English language so please try it next time you are talking about the gas guzzlers in conversation. Yes. I am in agreement with the Europeans on this, too, we have far too many soovs in the ooza... and it is time for me to learn how to drive a manual car.

Last but not least I wanted to tell you about my encounter with the Questura and the process of receiving my "permesso di soggiorno". Retelling this story might make my blood boil but I am willing to do it for you, my fellow followers, because you need to understand what you are up against with the Italian bureaucracy should you ever try to move here.

First thing to know is that a "permesso di soggiorno," literally, "permit to stay," is required for anyone who is not an E.U. citizen that is planning to stay in the country for more than three months. You must apply for this during your first 8 days in Italia, when your presence is reported to the local "Questura," or police station. If you have been to Italia, you know that all hotels take your passport upon arrival. They do this so your presence is made known to the Questura and they have a record of your entry. To receive the permesso, you must do this (which school did on my behalf) and then submit an application that you receive from the "la Posta," post office, which consists of tables and charts that refer back to tables and charts which lead you to tables and charts of abbreviations. Then you pay 18 Euro to send it... and pray that you receive a confirmation and an appointment.

Much to my surprise, I received a document in the mail confirming an appointment at 8.55AM on April 4th, as well as a text message from the office of foreign affairs telling me when to appear. For a country so antiquated in their ways, I find it so ironic how much they rely on modern technology to get things like this done. This unfortunately was not an indication of the course of events that lay ahead of me. I show up at 7.45AM and take a number, which was A317. At around 10:30, after I had already left to eat breakfast at Snack Bar Anna and pick up a very large stack of magazines, I was called to the window only to receive another number, B87. Apparently the B window is the "permesso di soggiorno" window. There are 16 windows in this place. The best comparison I can give you is the DMV. One of 16 is handling permesso's, and they are averaging one person per hour. At 2PM they decide to take a break and shut the place down, but they will not tell anyone how long they will be gone. Their response was, and I am completely serious, "If we feel like having a quick lunch break we will be back in 10 minutes. If we feel like taking a longer break we will be back in 2 hours." Need I say more?

Finally at 6.30PM (yes, you read correctly, I was going on nearly 10 hours in what now felt like what I imagine an insane asylum would be) B87 appears on the screen. I submit my papers, and the man asks me: "Do you want to remain in Italia, or return to the USA?" Now you all know what my intuitive response would've been, but I thought back to my friend at the Consulate in NY and immediately replied: "I would like to return to my country."  He handed me my papers, and told me I am done, I just need to go to sportello (window) 7 to do my fingerprints. Phew, finally done! Not so much.

Wouldn't you know it, of all 16 windows, none of the fingerprinting machines was working so everyone had to filter to one single window to complete them. This left a few hundred people waiting in an unorganized mass outside of window 7. At this point I was delirious, and I honestly almost left. However I could not have gotten this far in the day and process to turn back now. This experience can be summed up in one word: "assurdo," a word which I heard repeatedly throughout the course of the day. Absurd. But it's over (well, almost). I have my permesso, and I want to fly home to NY just to march myself into the NY Consulate and proudly wave it in that woman's face. I also met some really nice guys while I was waiting... obviously.