Crunchy alert: level - high
I cannot believe it's been three years since my friend Robyn dropped me off at LAX with five bags of luggage.
While I had spent time in Rome, did extensive research and prepared myself for outrageous red tape, I had never lived outside America.
I was not in my early 20s or 30s. I was moving to a new country, had to learn a new language and moving thousands of miles away from my family and friends.
I didn't know what would become of me in Italy. I did know I didn't like who I was becoming as I hit my ten year anniversary in Los Angeles. Going to Toronto to work on our film TRAITOR made it clear to me I had to make a very drastic change in my life.
Once the film wrapped in Toronto, I decided to take the leap without a safety net.
During the last three years, my life has changed in ways I never imagined. I wouldn't have written the JUMPING THE BROOM spec if I didn't move. I wouldn't have this sense of being home, of peace, of feeling like I'm no longer observing my life but actually in it, had I not moved here.
I wouldn't have met my incredible friends, who I get see regardless of our hectic work schedules. My married friends and/or friends with children still have time for me here. Single woman without children are not cast out to sea in Italy.
Nobody here schedules dinner or drinks three weeks in advance like we had to in L.A. I tried to do that when I first arrived. That habit died quickly.
When you ask people how are they are, they tell you. They don't say, "busy", then run through a list of all their work projects to prove they are busier than you because they are a more important producer, exec, whatever.
Rome took me by surprise. I never expected to fall in love with this crazy city. When I was a teenager, I thought I would live in London or Paris one day.
During that first trip to Rome, six years ago this month, I assumed the effect the city was having on me was because of what was going on (or not going on) in my life back in L.A. I went to Rome after the production company I worked for shut down. I had been to European cities before, London, Paris, Amsterdam, etc. I wasn't an Italofile.
The next year I returned for a longer stay, renting an apartment in Trastevere. I had to see what this Rome thing was all about. This time I had a job.
Didn't matter. I had an even stronger reaction to Rome and Italy in general. On that trip I also traveled outside of Rome.
"Rome was a poem pressed into service as a city." Anatole Broyard.
I think about the Broyard quote often.
Us expats may complain about the random strikes (of course, there's a big transit one today), the bizarro Bunga-Bunga politics and the bureaucracy. But like Broyard said Rome was "pressed" into being a city.
Of course things are not as organized as they are in America. If they were, Italy would be perfect and no place is. The key is to find a place that is right for your priorities.
During that second trip to Rome I listened to Seu Jorge's CRU CD constantly. He's a Brazilian actor/singer. If you saw CITY OF GOD he played Knockout Ned and in LIFE AQUATIC WITH STEVE ZIZZOU (which was shot in Rome) he was the sailor who sang all the David Bowie covers in Portuguese.
It wasn't until a few months after my trip, that I saw the video for the song "Tive Razao". This is one of favorite tracks off the CD.
Where was the video filmed? In Rome, in Piazza delle Chiesa Nuova, near where I live now. Nice cameos by Willem Dafoe and Bill Murray.
This song (VIDEO HERE) always reminds of that trip. During those weeks I said to my friend, another producer who was in Rome at the same, I was going to move to Rome. I planned to do it when I was older, maybe in my 50s. I'm glad I didn't wait.
The apartment I rented belong to an actor friend of a friend. The owner was on set in Naples so his girlfriend, Valentina, showed me the apartment.
Four years later I moved to Rome. My first week here, my friend G. invited me to come with him and his girlfriend to a party thrown by a production company celebrating the release of their movie NON PENSARCI.
A few minutes after we arrive, who do I see? Valentina. She said, "Welcome back." G. was incredulous. Not sure how she remembered me after only a short meeting four years earlier.
Buon weekend.
Showing posts with label E.U. citizenship. Show all posts
Showing posts with label E.U. citizenship. Show all posts
Friday, April 01, 2011
Wednesday, July 28, 2010
Dear rude Anonymous Italian,
Clearly you have a problem. I've never even been to Torino, so I have no idea what you're talking about. That you only see ugliness in all Italian cities says more about you than about me.
Why are you constantly coming on my blog and trashing my POV of the country I choose to live in?
I have a French passport. If I wanted to live in France I would do so. You, as an Italian, can live in another EU country. Why are you still living here? Move to France, England, Holland etc. It's obvious you have no intentions of trying to make things better here, so go. Note, my parents are French and trust me the French give the Italians a run for the money when it comes to bureaucracy.
I cannot wrap my head around why you would read an expat's blog who moved to Italy in the first place. Since you hate Italy so much, why the fuck are you reading my blog? What's the point? What are you trying to do? Convince me to see Italy through your POV? I'm not you, so how could I?
Given how much bitterness is in your heart and your lack of a life, I'm glad I'm not.
You must have me confused with someone else. I know and so does anyone who reads a newspaper knows Italy has its problem. As does every single country on the planet. If you're looking for paradise, good luck with that.
You're the one with the rose-colored glasses. You are NOT American and therefore have no idea what it's to live there. Don't you fucking dare tell me, a black first-generation American, how I should feel about the country I grew up in.
Basta.
Why are you constantly coming on my blog and trashing my POV of the country I choose to live in?
I have a French passport. If I wanted to live in France I would do so. You, as an Italian, can live in another EU country. Why are you still living here? Move to France, England, Holland etc. It's obvious you have no intentions of trying to make things better here, so go. Note, my parents are French and trust me the French give the Italians a run for the money when it comes to bureaucracy.
I cannot wrap my head around why you would read an expat's blog who moved to Italy in the first place. Since you hate Italy so much, why the fuck are you reading my blog? What's the point? What are you trying to do? Convince me to see Italy through your POV? I'm not you, so how could I?
Given how much bitterness is in your heart and your lack of a life, I'm glad I'm not.
You must have me confused with someone else. I know and so does anyone who reads a newspaper knows Italy has its problem. As does every single country on the planet. If you're looking for paradise, good luck with that.
You're the one with the rose-colored glasses. You are NOT American and therefore have no idea what it's to live there. Don't you fucking dare tell me, a black first-generation American, how I should feel about the country I grew up in.
Basta.
Thursday, April 01, 2010
Two years ago today I arrived in Rome.
I don't believe it.
A lot has changed since my first day in Rome.
My big goal for this year is to continue to improve my Italian. It's getting better. Being back in class and meeting a friend for language exchange has helped a great deal.
My other goal (and quite difficult) is to not stress out so much about my career.
I'm going through some crazy work stuff back in L.A. It's like nothing is going right. It's very frustrating.
So much is out of my control. Once I send my script off, that's it. I have to wait, wait and wait.
Hopefully, I will hear some good news from Hollywood during the next few months. I must think positive or else I wouldn't be able to get anything done.
These last two years have been amazing. I think about how I was when I first arrived. I was in quite a state.
I was bitter, burnt out, broke, single, pessimistic, tired, heavier and full of negativity.
I'm still single and broke but everything else has changed...drastically. I don't know what the hell happened to me those ten years in L.A. I lost my foundation somehow.
Since the move overseas, I've reconnected with the things that are most important to me.
Five years ago I came to Italy for the first time. I wasn't an Italophile. I wasn't going crazy over coming to Rome. I was just happy to take a little vacation during one of the most stressful moments of my life. The months prior to my trip had sent me into a pretty bad downward spiral. I wasn't sure if I would snap back.
I know it sounds very Eat, Pray, Love but that little trip saved me and completely changed my life.
A lot has changed since my first day in Rome.
My big goal for this year is to continue to improve my Italian. It's getting better. Being back in class and meeting a friend for language exchange has helped a great deal.
My other goal (and quite difficult) is to not stress out so much about my career.
I'm going through some crazy work stuff back in L.A. It's like nothing is going right. It's very frustrating.
So much is out of my control. Once I send my script off, that's it. I have to wait, wait and wait.
Hopefully, I will hear some good news from Hollywood during the next few months. I must think positive or else I wouldn't be able to get anything done.
These last two years have been amazing. I think about how I was when I first arrived. I was in quite a state.
I was bitter, burnt out, broke, single, pessimistic, tired, heavier and full of negativity.
I'm still single and broke but everything else has changed...drastically. I don't know what the hell happened to me those ten years in L.A. I lost my foundation somehow.
Since the move overseas, I've reconnected with the things that are most important to me.
Five years ago I came to Italy for the first time. I wasn't an Italophile. I wasn't going crazy over coming to Rome. I was just happy to take a little vacation during one of the most stressful moments of my life. The months prior to my trip had sent me into a pretty bad downward spiral. I wasn't sure if I would snap back.
I know it sounds very Eat, Pray, Love but that little trip saved me and completely changed my life.
Thursday, July 16, 2009
A great thing about living here? Being broke.
Let me rephrase that. Being broke is not fun. However, I've been broke in L.A. and it's much better to be broke here.
Yesterday I wrote about how annoying it is for people to assume I'm on vacation because I live in Rome. I lived in L.A. for 10 years I wasn't on vacation then, and I'm not now.
What's so hard to understand? I LIVE here. I'm a resident. I have a rental contract, pay taxes, a condo fee, utilities etc. Call me crazy but I didn't have to do those things "on vacation".
Anyway KimB. wrote this comment yesterday.
Sorry for the insensitivity of the person who sarcastically asked if you needed a vacation from your vacation.
I guess for me, it kind of has two aspects. People think my life *must* be glamorous since I live in Paris. No matter how many times I say I live in a 400-sq-ft apartment or that I can't find a 'real' job or that there's not enough hot water in our heater for my husband and I to take showers successively.
On the other hand, I think I use it as a protective cloak sometimes. I may not be doing anything exciting professionally, I may not be the success I was "meant" to be according to my high school and college "achievements" but at least if you're broke and 39 in Paris, you're broke and 39 in Paris. It's not as embarrassing as being broke and 39 and back home.
Kim is right. If I were going through my current situation back in L.A. I would need to be on some serious Prozac. How we define success (overall) in the States is bananas.
There is no way I would have the same quality of life I have here back in the States on my non-existent salary. Yes my apartment is tiny but these numbers jump out at me from an old NYT article:
Average rent in Manhattan Feb. 09
1 bedroom doorman building $3,395 a month
1 bedroom non-doorman building $2,632 a month.
Even with the horrible exchange rate I don't pay anything near that living in a similar area. I get paid the same regardless of where I live which is one reason why moving back to New York from Los Angeles was not an option.
When I lived in NYC 11 years ago, I had a great deal on a 1 bedroom in a doorman building. Studios were renting for $1,900 in my building. I can't imagine what they are charging now.
Excellent food is cheaper here.
My health insurance (private) is MUCH cheaper. I have a similar plan to what I had in the States. I pay doctor bills out of pocket but will be covered for emergency/hospital care. In America I paid $140 a month. Here $20.
It doesn't cost a lot to socialize. Seeing friends over an cheap aperitivo is easier on one's budget than $18 cocktails at the Beverly Hills Fours Season. As an exec I could expense it, now no longer an exec..no longer have an expense account.
Less pressure to keep up with the Jones. First of all you don't even know what the Jones have because it's considered rude and tacky to brag about it here. The culture is so different. You're not defined by your job. People have other interests and don't want to talk about work all the time.
I see friends more. I notice I rarely talk on the phone here. Just quick conversations to confirm plans. In L.A. seeing my friends was like scheduling a damn G8 summit.
I was on the phone all the time talking to my friends while sitting in traffic or once I got home. Why talk for an hour on the phone, why not just see each other? Because everyone is so "busy". I can't remember which comic was talking about this whole L.A. thing when you ask someone how they are, they always say, "busy".
Is this because of the uptight Pilgrims? Why is it considered a good idea to sacrifice everything for career/money? Will the economic turmoil make people rethink this?
A greater sense of community. I don't feel alone or lonely here. I feel at home.
Next week (if I remember) I'll write about why being single here is better for my mental health. ha
Yesterday I wrote about how annoying it is for people to assume I'm on vacation because I live in Rome. I lived in L.A. for 10 years I wasn't on vacation then, and I'm not now.
What's so hard to understand? I LIVE here. I'm a resident. I have a rental contract, pay taxes, a condo fee, utilities etc. Call me crazy but I didn't have to do those things "on vacation".
Anyway KimB. wrote this comment yesterday.
Sorry for the insensitivity of the person who sarcastically asked if you needed a vacation from your vacation.
I guess for me, it kind of has two aspects. People think my life *must* be glamorous since I live in Paris. No matter how many times I say I live in a 400-sq-ft apartment or that I can't find a 'real' job or that there's not enough hot water in our heater for my husband and I to take showers successively.
On the other hand, I think I use it as a protective cloak sometimes. I may not be doing anything exciting professionally, I may not be the success I was "meant" to be according to my high school and college "achievements" but at least if you're broke and 39 in Paris, you're broke and 39 in Paris. It's not as embarrassing as being broke and 39 and back home.
Kim is right. If I were going through my current situation back in L.A. I would need to be on some serious Prozac. How we define success (overall) in the States is bananas.
There is no way I would have the same quality of life I have here back in the States on my non-existent salary. Yes my apartment is tiny but these numbers jump out at me from an old NYT article:
Average rent in Manhattan Feb. 09
1 bedroom doorman building $3,395 a month
1 bedroom non-doorman building $2,632 a month.
Even with the horrible exchange rate I don't pay anything near that living in a similar area. I get paid the same regardless of where I live which is one reason why moving back to New York from Los Angeles was not an option.
When I lived in NYC 11 years ago, I had a great deal on a 1 bedroom in a doorman building. Studios were renting for $1,900 in my building. I can't imagine what they are charging now.
Excellent food is cheaper here.
My health insurance (private) is MUCH cheaper. I have a similar plan to what I had in the States. I pay doctor bills out of pocket but will be covered for emergency/hospital care. In America I paid $140 a month. Here $20.
It doesn't cost a lot to socialize. Seeing friends over an cheap aperitivo is easier on one's budget than $18 cocktails at the Beverly Hills Fours Season. As an exec I could expense it, now no longer an exec..no longer have an expense account.
Less pressure to keep up with the Jones. First of all you don't even know what the Jones have because it's considered rude and tacky to brag about it here. The culture is so different. You're not defined by your job. People have other interests and don't want to talk about work all the time.
I see friends more. I notice I rarely talk on the phone here. Just quick conversations to confirm plans. In L.A. seeing my friends was like scheduling a damn G8 summit.
I was on the phone all the time talking to my friends while sitting in traffic or once I got home. Why talk for an hour on the phone, why not just see each other? Because everyone is so "busy". I can't remember which comic was talking about this whole L.A. thing when you ask someone how they are, they always say, "busy".
Is this because of the uptight Pilgrims? Why is it considered a good idea to sacrifice everything for career/money? Will the economic turmoil make people rethink this?
A greater sense of community. I don't feel alone or lonely here. I feel at home.
Next week (if I remember) I'll write about why being single here is better for my mental health. ha
Wednesday, July 08, 2009
My photos from President Obama's arrival in Italy.
Thanks to my favorite sister in the world, I was able to see Air Force One land. I was up crazy early this morning as we (the advance lead and press staffer on the ground) had to leave the Center at 6:00 a.m.
I stood with the Italian press and waited for the plane.
I'm not the most rah, rah, rah, America is the GREATEST country on the planet person. As a first generation black American I'm conflicted about my home country. I'm proud to be American and will defend it to non-Americans who trash it (especially if they have never visited or lived there), but there's a reason I don't live there anymore.
Yet seeing Air Force One with the big letters UNITED STATES OF AMERICA written on the side, I got chills. I kinda wanted to break out with the team song from this movie:
I know the song is mocking all our over the top Michael Bayish, AMERICA, F**K YEAH! movies and attitude. However, you have to admit we do "big" well.
I must see the First Lady's dress close up.
AMERICA!!
Later the "Wee Michelles" exited with their grandmother. Their lives must be so surreal.
The First Couple's helicopter. AF1 (and other country's planes) are too big for the the other military base (Urbe) so they along with senior staff had to transfer via helicopters. Russia's presidential plane landed shortly after.
I stood with the Italian press and waited for the plane.
I'm not the most rah, rah, rah, America is the GREATEST country on the planet person. As a first generation black American I'm conflicted about my home country. I'm proud to be American and will defend it to non-Americans who trash it (especially if they have never visited or lived there), but there's a reason I don't live there anymore.
Yet seeing Air Force One with the big letters UNITED STATES OF AMERICA written on the side, I got chills. I kinda wanted to break out with the team song from this movie:
I know the song is mocking all our over the top Michael Bayish, AMERICA, F**K YEAH! movies and attitude. However, you have to admit we do "big" well.
I must see the First Lady's dress close up.
AMERICA!!
Later the "Wee Michelles" exited with their grandmother. Their lives must be so surreal.
The First Couple's helicopter. AF1 (and other country's planes) are too big for the the other military base (Urbe) so they along with senior staff had to transfer via helicopters. Russia's presidential plane landed shortly after.
Wednesday, April 29, 2009
Italian Driving School Diaries - I PASSED THE WRITTEN EXAM!!!!
Seriously, I have never studied so hard for a freaking test in my life. The three months of classes, taking practice exams and studying every night paid off.
I was nervous until I saw the first question. Then I relaxed. At that point what could I do?
Andrea, our instructor, from the school drove (he has a SICK ride) us out to the place located somewhere way north of the Center. A fellow American and I had to go to the Italian DMV since we were taking the test in English. The other students were able to take the test at a school but starting next month, all tests will be computerized.
Andrea waited with us as the results came in. He gave me a thumbs up but I couldn't get too excited because the other student failed. I felt celebrating would have been in poor taste.
While I still think the prices are quite high for the Autoscuola, you are getting your money's worth. The school does all the paperwork. After seeing the lines at the DMV, I'm happy about that. I almost got into fisticuffs with an employee at the DMV in Washington D.C. I can't even imagine the drama that goes down Italian style.
Next week I start lessons for driving stick/manual. Should be fun.
I was nervous until I saw the first question. Then I relaxed. At that point what could I do?
Andrea, our instructor, from the school drove (he has a SICK ride) us out to the place located somewhere way north of the Center. A fellow American and I had to go to the Italian DMV since we were taking the test in English. The other students were able to take the test at a school but starting next month, all tests will be computerized.
Andrea waited with us as the results came in. He gave me a thumbs up but I couldn't get too excited because the other student failed. I felt celebrating would have been in poor taste.
While I still think the prices are quite high for the Autoscuola, you are getting your money's worth. The school does all the paperwork. After seeing the lines at the DMV, I'm happy about that. I almost got into fisticuffs with an employee at the DMV in Washington D.C. I can't even imagine the drama that goes down Italian style.
Next week I start lessons for driving stick/manual. Should be fun.
Tuesday, August 05, 2008
David Lebovitz's tips for getting rich in France (can also be applied to Italy)
I love David's blog. He an award wining American pastry chef living in Paris. His cookbook THE PERFECT SCOOP is fantastic. I had to sell my Cuisinart Ice Cream maker when I move here so I can only make granitas from the book for now. Sadness.
Anyway this post cracked me up. I know many expats here can relate to number one and number two in particular.
This paragraph brought back nightmares of my trips to the Comune (municipio numero uno) shudder.
"Coming up soon is my visa renewal, which most of us foreigners have to take care of annually. For some reason, they can't tell me how long one has to live in France to get a Residency Card. Last year, the woman at immigration said, "I don't know. We don't have that kind of information!"
I wanted to point out that since she works in immigration, perhaps she might privy to immigration information, but that's just me being silly."
One comment suggested a new reality TV show ala a Euro Cup for bureaucracy. There would be a battle between France and Italy. ha!
Anyway this post cracked me up. I know many expats here can relate to number one and number two in particular.
This paragraph brought back nightmares of my trips to the Comune (municipio numero uno) shudder.
"Coming up soon is my visa renewal, which most of us foreigners have to take care of annually. For some reason, they can't tell me how long one has to live in France to get a Residency Card. Last year, the woman at immigration said, "I don't know. We don't have that kind of information!"
I wanted to point out that since she works in immigration, perhaps she might privy to immigration information, but that's just me being silly."
One comment suggested a new reality TV show ala a Euro Cup for bureaucracy. There would be a battle between France and Italy. ha!
Friday, July 25, 2008
Flashback Friday – Mary J. Blige and David Gregory are "Just Fine"
When I walked out of the Comune the other day with my Carta d'Identita I felt like busting out with this song.
The card doesn't expire for 10 years. If I move to a new apartment I will have to update my card but it won't be the same drama as getting my residency. I cannot tell you how happy I was to get this process done with!
I know it's shocking to have a Flashback of something from this century, ha, but this is a song that played non-stop on my iPod when I moved here three months ago. I love Mary J. She has come a long way since the days of threatening to beat up Veronica Webb because she didn't like the interview questions Veronica was asking for VIBE.
Her voice can be raw at times but I like that she isn't a studio creation like some other singers out there. When Mary is singing I FEEL what she is talking about. You know she is singing from the heart. I don't watch the GRAMMYS anymore but the last time I watched them she sang NO MORE DRAMA. She brought the house down.
The lyrics to this song are deep.
Check out David Gregory busting a move. Who knew?!
Have a great weekend.
The card doesn't expire for 10 years. If I move to a new apartment I will have to update my card but it won't be the same drama as getting my residency. I cannot tell you how happy I was to get this process done with!
I know it's shocking to have a Flashback of something from this century, ha, but this is a song that played non-stop on my iPod when I moved here three months ago. I love Mary J. She has come a long way since the days of threatening to beat up Veronica Webb because she didn't like the interview questions Veronica was asking for VIBE.
Her voice can be raw at times but I like that she isn't a studio creation like some other singers out there. When Mary is singing I FEEL what she is talking about. You know she is singing from the heart. I don't watch the GRAMMYS anymore but the last time I watched them she sang NO MORE DRAMA. She brought the house down.
The lyrics to this song are deep.
Check out David Gregory busting a move. Who knew?!
Have a great weekend.
Monday, July 21, 2008
Finalmente!
I am a resident of Rome BUT I still have to return to the *&$#! Comune to get my Carta d' Identita. Today I walked in with all my files and copies of everything you can think of to my 9:30 appointment. The same gentleman who started my residency process in May completed it. He didn't ask to see any of my files, just my passport. It was done very quickly. I have never seen so much paperwork in my life. What's up with all the special stamps I had to buy?
Anyway he told me in rapid-fire Italian that I needed to return with the forms he gave me to get my I.D. Of course I couldn't get the card today because all the numbers were gone.
I was talking to my parents over the weekend and they said my trips to the Comune sounded like dealing with the Marie (not sure of the spelling...it's pronouced MaREE) the French equivalent. I remembered when they first moved back it seemed like every time I spoke to them they were on their way to or had just returned from that office.
Speaking of contracts and paperwork, I went to see my lawyer/agent on Friday and signed the contract for the film project. I am shocked at how quickly my deal closed. I still need to get a Partita Iva (kind of a freelancers/business Tax ID number). There is a woman at the firm who handles these things. Thank God.
So I have crossed one major hurdle. Next up two things, become fluent in Italian and get my Italian drivers license. The residency process wiped me out (and it's technically still not over). At this point I can't even think about dealing with the Italian version of the DMV. I'm going to worry about my license in the beginning of '09. My International License doesn't expire until May 09. I have never driven a stick before. It will be an interesting experience.
Anyway he told me in rapid-fire Italian that I needed to return with the forms he gave me to get my I.D. Of course I couldn't get the card today because all the numbers were gone.
I was talking to my parents over the weekend and they said my trips to the Comune sounded like dealing with the Marie (not sure of the spelling...it's pronouced MaREE) the French equivalent. I remembered when they first moved back it seemed like every time I spoke to them they were on their way to or had just returned from that office.
Speaking of contracts and paperwork, I went to see my lawyer/agent on Friday and signed the contract for the film project. I am shocked at how quickly my deal closed. I still need to get a Partita Iva (kind of a freelancers/business Tax ID number). There is a woman at the firm who handles these things. Thank God.
So I have crossed one major hurdle. Next up two things, become fluent in Italian and get my Italian drivers license. The residency process wiped me out (and it's technically still not over). At this point I can't even think about dealing with the Italian version of the DMV. I'm going to worry about my license in the beginning of '09. My International License doesn't expire until May 09. I have never driven a stick before. It will be an interesting experience.
Wednesday, July 16, 2008
A return to the Comune...tears and confusion.
Ciao tutti,
Today I spent over three hours at City Hall. There was DRAMA earlier this morning.
After all the pushing and shoving, I get in, wait my turn, go the counter. Another immigrant translated for me. Basically the woman at the counter was saying as an American citizen I would need a Permesso di Soggiorno. I said I'm here as a French citizen, I have dual.
Lady at the counter: It doesn't matter. They changed the law. You're taking up too much time here. Good-bye.
I was dismissed. I knew this chick was wrong but I could feel the tears coming. I remembered that office I went to yesterday with the bi-lingual staffers. I told them what the lady told me. They said of course as an EU citizen you don't need a Permesso. They went to talk to C., the lady from yesterday who told me to come back today. She came back to the office and I stood there as four people spoke super fast Italian. Finally L. told me the problem was that they may have put me in the system as an American. If so I would have to repeat the whole process again but with my EU passport. I told them I didn't think they did since when I applied for my residency they never saw my American passport.
I had to wait while C. checked on the computer. For ten minutes I was sweating bullets. I really didn't think I had the strength to return to the Comune and go through this again. L. walked out and said "Congrats you're French. " ha. I was so relieved.
We went back to his office. He said he would give me an appointment to come back for my I.D. card so I wouldn't have to wait in line. He wrote down and explained everything I would need for the next step. He and the other lady apologized for the confusion earlier. On my receipt when I applied for the residency, under country of birth of course it says New York City, United States of America. However in the system (they gave me a copy of the print out) it also lists my citizenship as Francese (French). I'm not sure why the lady at the counter couldn't wrap her head around that and why she said EU citizens need a Permesso. Anyway the people in other office couldn't be nicer and more helpful. I had to chuckle when C. (the lady from yesterday) got aggravated with the clueless counter lady. While C. might not have the greatest bedside manner (she's the lady that always seems to be yelling at people) she did not give up until she got to the bottom of my situation.
FYI, for those making the move, one thing that has changed is now EU citizens have to prove that they have enough money to live here if they don't have a Partita Iva or work contract.
If I didn't have a meeting with the execs on my film project this afternoon I would be treating myself to a Mojito. :)
Today I spent over three hours at City Hall. There was DRAMA earlier this morning.
After all the pushing and shoving, I get in, wait my turn, go the counter. Another immigrant translated for me. Basically the woman at the counter was saying as an American citizen I would need a Permesso di Soggiorno. I said I'm here as a French citizen, I have dual.
Lady at the counter: It doesn't matter. They changed the law. You're taking up too much time here. Good-bye.
I was dismissed. I knew this chick was wrong but I could feel the tears coming. I remembered that office I went to yesterday with the bi-lingual staffers. I told them what the lady told me. They said of course as an EU citizen you don't need a Permesso. They went to talk to C., the lady from yesterday who told me to come back today. She came back to the office and I stood there as four people spoke super fast Italian. Finally L. told me the problem was that they may have put me in the system as an American. If so I would have to repeat the whole process again but with my EU passport. I told them I didn't think they did since when I applied for my residency they never saw my American passport.
I had to wait while C. checked on the computer. For ten minutes I was sweating bullets. I really didn't think I had the strength to return to the Comune and go through this again. L. walked out and said "Congrats you're French. " ha. I was so relieved.
We went back to his office. He said he would give me an appointment to come back for my I.D. card so I wouldn't have to wait in line. He wrote down and explained everything I would need for the next step. He and the other lady apologized for the confusion earlier. On my receipt when I applied for the residency, under country of birth of course it says New York City, United States of America. However in the system (they gave me a copy of the print out) it also lists my citizenship as Francese (French). I'm not sure why the lady at the counter couldn't wrap her head around that and why she said EU citizens need a Permesso. Anyway the people in other office couldn't be nicer and more helpful. I had to chuckle when C. (the lady from yesterday) got aggravated with the clueless counter lady. While C. might not have the greatest bedside manner (she's the lady that always seems to be yelling at people) she did not give up until she got to the bottom of my situation.
FYI, for those making the move, one thing that has changed is now EU citizens have to prove that they have enough money to live here if they don't have a Partita Iva or work contract.
If I didn't have a meeting with the execs on my film project this afternoon I would be treating myself to a Mojito. :)
Tuesday, July 15, 2008
The Comune (City Hall) in Rome...only the strong survive.
It's a miracle that I am able to post today. I just returned from the Comune to check on my residency.
Last time I went a nice older lady had given us slips of paper with numbers on them. Once we got inside there was a system. All the people who came after us who were pushing and shoving couldn't jump us in line. I thought it was great. I got there at 7:30 a.m. an hour before the office opened. Why should someone who rolls in around 8:30 get ahead of me? I learned my lesson the last time I showed up at opening hours. The Comune runs out of tickets within five minutes.
Unfortunately nobody was that organized on the line this morning. I got there at 7:20 a.m. Everyone who came up after me asked what number was I? The men at the front said the numbers were finished. That was a bold face lie. There were no numbers. People standing on line were afraid of the intense, heavily tattooed Albanian men at the front. This American guy (his parents are Italian) who was next to me said all their friends were jumping the line and no one dare said a world.
Once the doors opened, it was crazy. People were running to the office. Then folks started pushing, hard. I ended up shoved against a closed glass door. As I was standing there unable to breathe, I asked the good Lord to spare my life. It would suck to die so soon after arriving in Italy.
One of the guards yelled at the people who were pushing and took my arm and helped me into the room. Another employee who always seems to be yelling at people, took my forms. I didn't see the Michael Chiklis look alike today. While I was waiting for information, an Italian woman kept arguing with one of the employees. An Italian man who I believe was a priest or at least a theological student by his attire, slammed his papers down on the counter, said BASTA! (enough) and proceeded to let the woman have it. A few of us had to hold back from laughing. Homegirl really pushed him to the edge. The whole scene was absurd. I wish my Italian was stronger so I could've understand what everyone was arguing about. The employee returned to the counter and said my papers will be ready this week. Yeah.
The downside is I have to return to that office. I tried to ask one of the guards in Italian if there was any special form I should have. He walked me over to another office where there was a woman who was bi-lingual. In English we talked about the madness that happens every morning. I really feel for the people that work there. I'm sure they get great benefits as state or city employees but I know I would lose it.
This morning several immigrants cursed out the security guards when the numbers ran out, others didn't have all their paperwork and then there are folks who can't really speak Italian (like myself). I walked out a 9:00 a.m. and felt like I had been there all week. ha.
I have to mentally prepare myself for my next trip.
Last time I went a nice older lady had given us slips of paper with numbers on them. Once we got inside there was a system. All the people who came after us who were pushing and shoving couldn't jump us in line. I thought it was great. I got there at 7:30 a.m. an hour before the office opened. Why should someone who rolls in around 8:30 get ahead of me? I learned my lesson the last time I showed up at opening hours. The Comune runs out of tickets within five minutes.
Unfortunately nobody was that organized on the line this morning. I got there at 7:20 a.m. Everyone who came up after me asked what number was I? The men at the front said the numbers were finished. That was a bold face lie. There were no numbers. People standing on line were afraid of the intense, heavily tattooed Albanian men at the front. This American guy (his parents are Italian) who was next to me said all their friends were jumping the line and no one dare said a world.
Once the doors opened, it was crazy. People were running to the office. Then folks started pushing, hard. I ended up shoved against a closed glass door. As I was standing there unable to breathe, I asked the good Lord to spare my life. It would suck to die so soon after arriving in Italy.
One of the guards yelled at the people who were pushing and took my arm and helped me into the room. Another employee who always seems to be yelling at people, took my forms. I didn't see the Michael Chiklis look alike today. While I was waiting for information, an Italian woman kept arguing with one of the employees. An Italian man who I believe was a priest or at least a theological student by his attire, slammed his papers down on the counter, said BASTA! (enough) and proceeded to let the woman have it. A few of us had to hold back from laughing. Homegirl really pushed him to the edge. The whole scene was absurd. I wish my Italian was stronger so I could've understand what everyone was arguing about. The employee returned to the counter and said my papers will be ready this week. Yeah.
The downside is I have to return to that office. I tried to ask one of the guards in Italian if there was any special form I should have. He walked me over to another office where there was a woman who was bi-lingual. In English we talked about the madness that happens every morning. I really feel for the people that work there. I'm sure they get great benefits as state or city employees but I know I would lose it.
This morning several immigrants cursed out the security guards when the numbers ran out, others didn't have all their paperwork and then there are folks who can't really speak Italian (like myself). I walked out a 9:00 a.m. and felt like I had been there all week. ha.
I have to mentally prepare myself for my next trip.
Thursday, July 03, 2008
Heat, titles and the 4th of July
It's really hot. I have closed the shutters and turned on the fan. I wish I could lie in a pool somewhere.
My manager (in L.A.) and I have a conference call every Wednesday. I told him I'm sending him my spec script soon. He said I need a new title. Sigh.
All night and this morning ( I woke up at 5:30 as usual) I've been trying to think of some that didn't completely suck. However, I've been distracted because of some of the comments from yesterday along with the upcoming holiday.
Yesterday as I was writing a few responses, certain feelings came flooding back to the surface. I realized that I was getting kinda angry.
Then it occurred to me I haven't felt that way since I boarded an American Airline flight to Rome.
The 4th of July is tomorrow. I've been thinking about why am I an expat? Why did I move here vs Paris? Is it normal not to miss for one second the country of your birth? What does it meant to be patriotic?
I'm still trying to collect my thoughts so I don't ramble on or write a book. Once or if I do, I'll post more.
I do know the answer to the Paris question. I spoke about it before. This quote from the novel "THE NAMESAKE" sums it up.
"Immersing herself in a third language, a third culture, had been her refuge - she approached French, unlike things American or Indian, without guilt, or misgiving, or expectation of any kind. It was easier to turn her back on the two countries that could claim her in favor of one that had no claim whatsoever."
The character like me, is a first generation American. Her parents are from India. One of my closest friends back in New York is also of Indian decent and we used to talk all the time about of how weird it is to be a person of color in America when your parents are not American born or raised. You feel all this pressure to prove your Americaness but that culture is at complete odds with your parent's. Then the culture you are trying to so hard to fit into kinda doesn't want your brown or black butt to begin with. In my situation it was not fun when I was younger and because I spent my formative years in the 'burbs I spoke a certain way. i.e. white. So I had to prove I was "down" or the blackness police would take away my pass. In said suburb I heard the n-word dropped on a regular basis, even from some friends (when they would slip and say the word then look at me and say "you know I don't think you're one" or "oops sorry"). So basically I fit in nowhere.
At some point, you know what, it's fucking exhausting. In Italy I'm a "straniera" a foreigner. That's cool, it's true I am. I don't have a single Italian relative. But what's not cool is feeling like a foreigner in your own freaking country.
My manager (in L.A.) and I have a conference call every Wednesday. I told him I'm sending him my spec script soon. He said I need a new title. Sigh.
All night and this morning ( I woke up at 5:30 as usual) I've been trying to think of some that didn't completely suck. However, I've been distracted because of some of the comments from yesterday along with the upcoming holiday.
Yesterday as I was writing a few responses, certain feelings came flooding back to the surface. I realized that I was getting kinda angry.
Then it occurred to me I haven't felt that way since I boarded an American Airline flight to Rome.
The 4th of July is tomorrow. I've been thinking about why am I an expat? Why did I move here vs Paris? Is it normal not to miss for one second the country of your birth? What does it meant to be patriotic?
I'm still trying to collect my thoughts so I don't ramble on or write a book. Once or if I do, I'll post more.
I do know the answer to the Paris question. I spoke about it before. This quote from the novel "THE NAMESAKE" sums it up.
"Immersing herself in a third language, a third culture, had been her refuge - she approached French, unlike things American or Indian, without guilt, or misgiving, or expectation of any kind. It was easier to turn her back on the two countries that could claim her in favor of one that had no claim whatsoever."
The character like me, is a first generation American. Her parents are from India. One of my closest friends back in New York is also of Indian decent and we used to talk all the time about of how weird it is to be a person of color in America when your parents are not American born or raised. You feel all this pressure to prove your Americaness but that culture is at complete odds with your parent's. Then the culture you are trying to so hard to fit into kinda doesn't want your brown or black butt to begin with. In my situation it was not fun when I was younger and because I spent my formative years in the 'burbs I spoke a certain way. i.e. white. So I had to prove I was "down" or the blackness police would take away my pass. In said suburb I heard the n-word dropped on a regular basis, even from some friends (when they would slip and say the word then look at me and say "you know I don't think you're one" or "oops sorry"). So basically I fit in nowhere.
At some point, you know what, it's fucking exhausting. In Italy I'm a "straniera" a foreigner. That's cool, it's true I am. I don't have a single Italian relative. But what's not cool is feeling like a foreigner in your own freaking country.
Wednesday, June 25, 2008
You've got mail and a police officer at your door.
First the policeman. Usually one does not want to be visited by the cops. However I was happy because it meant I was one step closer to getting my residency. Here in Italy when you apply for it (E.U. citizens must do it within 90 days of arrival) the police come to your house to make sure you are actually living where you say you are. They ask a couple of questions then send the paperwork to Comune (city hall).
They had stopped by two Saturdays in a row while I was out running errands. Third time was a charm. An officer came by on a Friday afternoon. He was very nice. Said my Italian was fantastic for only being in the country for a few months. It’s not great but I was able to communicate and understand him because he was kind enough to speak slower. I showed him my rental contract and my passport. He went down his list of questions. One was if I was married. When I said no, he put his pen down and said “No! Ma dia. Perchè?” (No. Come on..why?). His reaction cracked me up. He told me not to worry soon it will happen. Okay thank you Mr. Policeman I’m not even dating but I’ll keep hope alive. I actually don’t need to be married. A date alone would be a miraculous event.
Second, I love getting mail (not bills of course). Imagine my surprise when I received two packages from the States in two days. Thanks Jen in NJ and Rob. I had a lot of good stuff to read. I’m trying hard not to eat all the candy in one week.
Tuesday, May 06, 2008
Yes!!! I have cleared two major hurdles.
It's so sad how accomplishing a simple task these days makes me feel like just finished the New York Marathon. It's like I'm a kid again learning how to freaking speak. The other day I called Telecom Italia and ordered phone/Internet service. I missed their call earlier because I was on the phone with my landlord. I asked if anyone spoke English (after apologizing for my poor Italian), the lady said I was doing fine and let's continue. After everything was done she said "Brava!" and have a good day. The tech should be coming in a week and a half to install everything. We'll see.
Yesterday I got to the Comune (town hall) over an hour early and there was already a line! A nice women gave us numbers which was smart because the minute the doors opened everyone started running and pushing. I recognized this obnoxious guy who cut in line last week and he tried to cut in front of me again. I don't know which county he was from but I was prepared to curse him out in English and Italian figuring he might know one or the other. The same officials were working and Mr. The-Shield-look-a-like nodded at me. The line cutter was really pushing me now and I yelled "dodici!!!" (the number 12) as if my life depended on it. Mr. Shield glared at the other man who had a number in the 30s and told him to let me through.
An hour later, my number was called. On Friday I couldn't apply because I didn't have insurance, or a job in Italy that would be paying into the National System. Thanks to two very helpful expats, I found out you can buy insurance at the Post Office. I am paying in a year what I paid in two months in the U.S. for basically the same kind of plan. I pay for all doctor's visits out of pocket, this insurance is to cover only hospital/major illness costs.
The man stamped my paperwork. Spoke not a word of English. I have decided to get over my fear of speaking and making mistakes. People here have been more than happy to help me when I make the effort. If I start completely falling apart they usually will switch to English if they know it or try to find a co-worker who does.
The next step is the police have to come by my apartment to make sure I actually live where I say I do. I think after that I should be getting my residency papers.
I'm at another cafe/bar in Trastevere using their WiFi. It is so nice out, I think I'm going to walk to my meeting later today. I have a follow up meeting at a production company regarding one of my script ideas.
I just received notes on my script from my manager. One good thing about not having a TV (or the Internet) is I have no distractions as I get ready for this re-write. I hope to finish it in a month or so.
Okay back to work.
Yesterday I got to the Comune (town hall) over an hour early and there was already a line! A nice women gave us numbers which was smart because the minute the doors opened everyone started running and pushing. I recognized this obnoxious guy who cut in line last week and he tried to cut in front of me again. I don't know which county he was from but I was prepared to curse him out in English and Italian figuring he might know one or the other. The same officials were working and Mr. The-Shield-look-a-like nodded at me. The line cutter was really pushing me now and I yelled "dodici!!!" (the number 12) as if my life depended on it. Mr. Shield glared at the other man who had a number in the 30s and told him to let me through.
An hour later, my number was called. On Friday I couldn't apply because I didn't have insurance, or a job in Italy that would be paying into the National System. Thanks to two very helpful expats, I found out you can buy insurance at the Post Office. I am paying in a year what I paid in two months in the U.S. for basically the same kind of plan. I pay for all doctor's visits out of pocket, this insurance is to cover only hospital/major illness costs.
The man stamped my paperwork. Spoke not a word of English. I have decided to get over my fear of speaking and making mistakes. People here have been more than happy to help me when I make the effort. If I start completely falling apart they usually will switch to English if they know it or try to find a co-worker who does.
The next step is the police have to come by my apartment to make sure I actually live where I say I do. I think after that I should be getting my residency papers.
I'm at another cafe/bar in Trastevere using their WiFi. It is so nice out, I think I'm going to walk to my meeting later today. I have a follow up meeting at a production company regarding one of my script ideas.
I just received notes on my script from my manager. One good thing about not having a TV (or the Internet) is I have no distractions as I get ready for this re-write. I hope to finish it in a month or so.
Okay back to work.
Thursday, May 01, 2008
"I'm sorry we have run out of numbers."
I went to the Comune (city hall) yesterday to apply for my residency. The office opens at 8:30 a.m. At 8:40 a.m. they were out of numbers. I had to go home.
I was delayed by a man from the sanitation department trying to explain to me in Italian that I had put my garbage in the wrong place. He was very nice and helpful but instead of getting to the office a few minutes early I arrived 10 minutes later.
One of the gruff looking officials (seriously, this man looked like the guy from "The Shield" but shorter) told me to make sure I get there very early next time when I asked him what time do they really open in the morning.
After years of never speaking to anyone at my bank in L.A. (I only used the ATMs) it's funny to me to walk into my bank here and "speak" to everyone. I put speak in quotes because half the time I have no idea what they are saying after the "come sta" (how are you) question. The people who work there, including the bank manager are so nice. The women who helped me open my account told me my Italian is improving.
I stopped by the market at Campo de Fiori. I have been checking out the various stands and I have found the ones that I like the most. I could write an entire post about the tomatoes I bought yesterday. I haven't smelled or tasted tomatoes that good since I moved from home. My dad used to grow them. I now realized the ones I used to buy in the supermarket tasted like rubber.
Last night went out for an aperitivo with some friends. G. met up with us. There were so many people out last night. It took me less than 10 minutes to walk home. It's such a different vibe from Los Angeles. I do not miss the over-priced valet parking, people with stuck up attitudes who ask you "what do you do" first so they can see if you are worthy of having a conversation with and talking about the "business" all the time.
I was delayed by a man from the sanitation department trying to explain to me in Italian that I had put my garbage in the wrong place. He was very nice and helpful but instead of getting to the office a few minutes early I arrived 10 minutes later.
One of the gruff looking officials (seriously, this man looked like the guy from "The Shield" but shorter) told me to make sure I get there very early next time when I asked him what time do they really open in the morning.
After years of never speaking to anyone at my bank in L.A. (I only used the ATMs) it's funny to me to walk into my bank here and "speak" to everyone. I put speak in quotes because half the time I have no idea what they are saying after the "come sta" (how are you) question. The people who work there, including the bank manager are so nice. The women who helped me open my account told me my Italian is improving.
I stopped by the market at Campo de Fiori. I have been checking out the various stands and I have found the ones that I like the most. I could write an entire post about the tomatoes I bought yesterday. I haven't smelled or tasted tomatoes that good since I moved from home. My dad used to grow them. I now realized the ones I used to buy in the supermarket tasted like rubber.
Last night went out for an aperitivo with some friends. G. met up with us. There were so many people out last night. It took me less than 10 minutes to walk home. It's such a different vibe from Los Angeles. I do not miss the over-priced valet parking, people with stuck up attitudes who ask you "what do you do" first so they can see if you are worthy of having a conversation with and talking about the "business" all the time.
Wednesday, April 02, 2008
Sono qui in Roma. (I am here in Rome)
This is f*cking weird.
Please excuse all typos. I'm in a cafe using their WiFi (my temporary apartment doesn't have Internet). The Internet here is free but you have to buy a drink or something. I am chilling with a glass of red wine while I look out at the remains of the walls that used to guard the city (Porta Pia). My feet are killing me. I got lost countless times today. I tried to find my permanent apartment but instead walked around Piazza Farnese. Tried to get back to Termini area, got lost, saw the Trevi fountain. Finally found the station which is a 20 minute walk from my aparment, got lost. Well, at least I walked off the piece of pizza I had for lunch and the gelato.
The last 48 hours in Los Angeles were just crazy. I didn't have enough luggage for all my stuff. I ended up checking in four bags at an additional cost of $250. I connected in Chicago. As the plane started to descend I had a complete freak out (quietly). It's as if I finally realized that I quit a job I loved and was moving to a foreign country...not just going on vacation. I starting crying (and was embarassed and try to hide it) as I felt completely overwhelmed. What irrational thing to do at my age. I'm a middle age lady (yes my friends if you are over 35 you are middle aged) trying to get a writing career off the ground...in Hollywood. A place where if you are not an "it boy" by 30 your chances of working are slim.
I thought about my family and all my friends I had to say good-bye to, my questionable Italian speaking skills, where whould I find a hairdresser who knows how to work with natural black hair, and how I don't know the metric system. The Chicago to Rome leg I tried to sleep and had the pleasure of a screaming toddler sitting behind me for almost eight hours. The good news...none of my bags were lost.
I had some jet lag and crashed at 6:30 p.m. I was up at 12:30 a.m. and tossed and turned all night until I got up at 4:00 a.m. I knew today was going to be my first dealing with the infamous Italian red tape. My stomach was in knots. I did have a my first good writing day in about two weeks (I'm working on a romantic comedy script). Feeling good about that, I went down to Trastevere to get my Codice Fiscale (kind of like a Social Security Number, you need it to open a bank account, work, pay utilities etc.). As I walked past the area where I have rented apartments for the last two years I felt like I was back home.
I got to the office just as they were opening and there was a line. I have to say I am SHOCKED at how organized it was. The older gentleman at the front desk couldn't be more helpful. He listened to my broken Italian and he chuckled when he saw my cheat sheet. That is how organized/anal I am. I wrote down in Italian what I wanted to say. In Italian he asked me where I was from, when did I arrived in Rome and then he said welcome and I could come back to him if I had any questions. I know he slowed down his normal speaking speed so I was able to understand most of what he said. I saw him later speaking to a colleague of his and seriously it sounded so lyrical but I had no idea what they were talking about they spoke so quickly.
The woman who processed my info spoke ZERO English, was super sweet and told me I had a "bel nome/beautiful name" (for some reason my middle name is spelled out on my French passport, so now all my Italian documents have my middle name). From the time I sat down at her desk I think it took less than 10 minutes for her to do the paperwork.
Next onto the bank. I spoke to the branch manager yesterday on the phone (he spoke no English). I got his name from through an affiliate branch in the States after my landlord gave me the number of the closest branch to the apartment. He had me work with a employee who knew some English. That was an overstatement. She said she studied it in school but she never speaks it. Similar to me and French. I studied it for 7 years and know maybe 6 sentences. Her younger colleague came over and she spoke as much English as I do Italian. We were able to work it out. We kept laughing because every other sentence was "come si dice" (how do you say?) Since I elected to go with the plan that is banking online I will avoid some the crazy high fees. I still have to pay a tax of about 32 Euros a year. It was so weird to open a checking account and receive no checks. Nobody uses them. My rent, bills, will be taken out of my account.
I couldn't bring my bag into the bank. You have to go through these secure doors. After all the terrorist attacks in the 70s you can't just walk into a bank here. At first I was wondering why the inner door wouldn't open. I didn't understand what the automated voice was saying. The security guard pointed to the lockers. In English I said something like "I need my bag to open my account". He looked at me like, are you "molto stupida?" you would want to put your bag in the locker right now.
After 30 minutes or so I had my account after signing a million documents. It's interesting the things I read I would need and made sure I had, reference letter from my home back, tax return or proof of income, and only being able to open a "strainieri" (foriegner's account) never came up. The two women, patiently explained everything to me and also asked me a bunch of questions about L.A. As I was standing in line to desposit money, an American tourist next to me who was exchanging money was complaining that there were only two tellers and about all the security. The women in front of me was an American expat who has lived in Rome for 10 years. She told the tourist that she liked the security and thinks the energy in the States now is more paranoid (she went back for time in years). He then went on to say loudly " I guess customer service is not a priortity to these people." ouch.
I know getting residency will require a bunch of steps but I don't have to worry about that until after I move into my place. Thanks to reading all the negative threads on Expats in Italy I was prepared for the worst. Rude bureaucrats (like the ones I had to deal with at the DMV in Washington DC) disorganization and what not. Instead the people I dealt with today were great. I think by the summer my Italian will be much better. I am forced to used it now. I went to get a gelato near the Trevi fountain. The minute I walked in the lady behind the counter spoke English to me. In the areas near tourist destintations there are plenty of people who speak English.
Tomorrow I am going to write all morning and then if I feel like it go down to Telecom Italia to get a permanent cell phone. My manager is supposed to call me for our weekly conference call tonight at 7:00 p.m. my time. After my call I might go walk around my neighborhood or something. I have to get on Roman time.
Randomissia - The U.S. presidential election is getting major coverage on Italian television. Rihanna and the new Gnarls Barkley song are huge here. A British brother walking by me on the street asked me if I was Jamaican. I said no..he asked "where are you from" all loud. ha. Some Italian guy on a Vespa, stopped in the middle of traffic and blew me a kiss. At first I thought he was a friend of mine, that is the only reason I made eye contact. When I realized it wasn't him I was like get moving homeslice. I would like to state for the record, I was saying homeslice long before Diablo Cody.
Since I don't have Internet at my place postings will be sporadic.
Please excuse all typos. I'm in a cafe using their WiFi (my temporary apartment doesn't have Internet). The Internet here is free but you have to buy a drink or something. I am chilling with a glass of red wine while I look out at the remains of the walls that used to guard the city (Porta Pia). My feet are killing me. I got lost countless times today. I tried to find my permanent apartment but instead walked around Piazza Farnese. Tried to get back to Termini area, got lost, saw the Trevi fountain. Finally found the station which is a 20 minute walk from my aparment, got lost. Well, at least I walked off the piece of pizza I had for lunch and the gelato.
The last 48 hours in Los Angeles were just crazy. I didn't have enough luggage for all my stuff. I ended up checking in four bags at an additional cost of $250. I connected in Chicago. As the plane started to descend I had a complete freak out (quietly). It's as if I finally realized that I quit a job I loved and was moving to a foreign country...not just going on vacation. I starting crying (and was embarassed and try to hide it) as I felt completely overwhelmed. What irrational thing to do at my age. I'm a middle age lady (yes my friends if you are over 35 you are middle aged) trying to get a writing career off the ground...in Hollywood. A place where if you are not an "it boy" by 30 your chances of working are slim.
I thought about my family and all my friends I had to say good-bye to, my questionable Italian speaking skills, where whould I find a hairdresser who knows how to work with natural black hair, and how I don't know the metric system. The Chicago to Rome leg I tried to sleep and had the pleasure of a screaming toddler sitting behind me for almost eight hours. The good news...none of my bags were lost.
I had some jet lag and crashed at 6:30 p.m. I was up at 12:30 a.m. and tossed and turned all night until I got up at 4:00 a.m. I knew today was going to be my first dealing with the infamous Italian red tape. My stomach was in knots. I did have a my first good writing day in about two weeks (I'm working on a romantic comedy script). Feeling good about that, I went down to Trastevere to get my Codice Fiscale (kind of like a Social Security Number, you need it to open a bank account, work, pay utilities etc.). As I walked past the area where I have rented apartments for the last two years I felt like I was back home.
I got to the office just as they were opening and there was a line. I have to say I am SHOCKED at how organized it was. The older gentleman at the front desk couldn't be more helpful. He listened to my broken Italian and he chuckled when he saw my cheat sheet. That is how organized/anal I am. I wrote down in Italian what I wanted to say. In Italian he asked me where I was from, when did I arrived in Rome and then he said welcome and I could come back to him if I had any questions. I know he slowed down his normal speaking speed so I was able to understand most of what he said. I saw him later speaking to a colleague of his and seriously it sounded so lyrical but I had no idea what they were talking about they spoke so quickly.
The woman who processed my info spoke ZERO English, was super sweet and told me I had a "bel nome/beautiful name" (for some reason my middle name is spelled out on my French passport, so now all my Italian documents have my middle name). From the time I sat down at her desk I think it took less than 10 minutes for her to do the paperwork.
Next onto the bank. I spoke to the branch manager yesterday on the phone (he spoke no English). I got his name from through an affiliate branch in the States after my landlord gave me the number of the closest branch to the apartment. He had me work with a employee who knew some English. That was an overstatement. She said she studied it in school but she never speaks it. Similar to me and French. I studied it for 7 years and know maybe 6 sentences. Her younger colleague came over and she spoke as much English as I do Italian. We were able to work it out. We kept laughing because every other sentence was "come si dice" (how do you say?) Since I elected to go with the plan that is banking online I will avoid some the crazy high fees. I still have to pay a tax of about 32 Euros a year. It was so weird to open a checking account and receive no checks. Nobody uses them. My rent, bills, will be taken out of my account.
I couldn't bring my bag into the bank. You have to go through these secure doors. After all the terrorist attacks in the 70s you can't just walk into a bank here. At first I was wondering why the inner door wouldn't open. I didn't understand what the automated voice was saying. The security guard pointed to the lockers. In English I said something like "I need my bag to open my account". He looked at me like, are you "molto stupida?" you would want to put your bag in the locker right now.
After 30 minutes or so I had my account after signing a million documents. It's interesting the things I read I would need and made sure I had, reference letter from my home back, tax return or proof of income, and only being able to open a "strainieri" (foriegner's account) never came up. The two women, patiently explained everything to me and also asked me a bunch of questions about L.A. As I was standing in line to desposit money, an American tourist next to me who was exchanging money was complaining that there were only two tellers and about all the security. The women in front of me was an American expat who has lived in Rome for 10 years. She told the tourist that she liked the security and thinks the energy in the States now is more paranoid (she went back for time in years). He then went on to say loudly " I guess customer service is not a priortity to these people." ouch.
I know getting residency will require a bunch of steps but I don't have to worry about that until after I move into my place. Thanks to reading all the negative threads on Expats in Italy I was prepared for the worst. Rude bureaucrats (like the ones I had to deal with at the DMV in Washington DC) disorganization and what not. Instead the people I dealt with today were great. I think by the summer my Italian will be much better. I am forced to used it now. I went to get a gelato near the Trevi fountain. The minute I walked in the lady behind the counter spoke English to me. In the areas near tourist destintations there are plenty of people who speak English.
Tomorrow I am going to write all morning and then if I feel like it go down to Telecom Italia to get a permanent cell phone. My manager is supposed to call me for our weekly conference call tonight at 7:00 p.m. my time. After my call I might go walk around my neighborhood or something. I have to get on Roman time.
Randomissia - The U.S. presidential election is getting major coverage on Italian television. Rihanna and the new Gnarls Barkley song are huge here. A British brother walking by me on the street asked me if I was Jamaican. I said no..he asked "where are you from" all loud. ha. Some Italian guy on a Vespa, stopped in the middle of traffic and blew me a kiss. At first I thought he was a friend of mine, that is the only reason I made eye contact. When I realized it wasn't him I was like get moving homeslice. I would like to state for the record, I was saying homeslice long before Diablo Cody.
Since I don't have Internet at my place postings will be sporadic.
Tuesday, February 12, 2008
Ciao! Welcome to Italian bureaucracy.
I have a migrane. It started yesterday as I tried to figure out how to move my household goods.
Work was insane. I had to go to a screening of our movie at the last minute, which meant I was out all afternoon. The head of the studio and marketing were there. We had an hour long meeting afterwards with the director and other producers to go over our notes, preview schedule, possible release date, ratings etc. During the meeting I thought my head was going to explode. Then I had to go another meeting (more on that group some other time).
Last week I called several different international moving companies to get estimates. One, the price is a good $1000-$2000 more than what I budgeted, and two, the information required by Italian customs is completely confusing. All the movers said moving goods to Italy and dealing with the port of Naples is drama. One suggested I make my point of EU entry the UK but that would add almost another month to the arrival time. I don't want to wait 3-4 months to get my things. Plus, the more places this crate has to travel, the more opportunity there is for something to go wrong.
I am not moving any furniture so I am getting a crate that is 1/4 the size of a 20ft. container. The movers will pack my stuff, get it to the warehouse, consolidate it in NYC and then it sails across the Atlantic.
I called the Italian consulate to get to the bottom of what I need to do. They told me to call the French consulate (I have a French passport). The lady at the consulate annoyed that French citizen was asking about moving to Italy in English, (zut allors!!) referred me to a website of the French Embassay which was of no help.
I had two moments of "what the hell am I doing?" yesterday. When I was sitting in the meeting I thought, I will really miss working with my colleagues and when I was looking for information on an Italian website regarding Codice Fiscale (similar to our social sercurity number), my eyes glazed over from trying to read the legalese Italian. It's one thing to read an occassional article in Italian Vogue or Vanity Fair, (which takes me forever) but this completely frustrated me. All my expat friends keep saying once I am there I will become fluent. I think about trying to open a bank account, sign up for health insurance, Internet etc. in a foriegn language and I start to panic.
Also, I am finally at a point in my career here in Hollywood when I'm not living check to check. Now I'm moving to where the dollar is so freaking weak and I am going to write for a living?! ha. Everyone and their mother is writing a script or a novel in Los Angeles. Most do not succeed.
Okay I need to freaking relax. The move seems more real now. I am starting to get calls from agents and execs as the word gets out that I'm leaving. Last week I began cancelling all my utilities, insurance, etc. It's a major pain in the butt and this process is in English!
Work was insane. I had to go to a screening of our movie at the last minute, which meant I was out all afternoon. The head of the studio and marketing were there. We had an hour long meeting afterwards with the director and other producers to go over our notes, preview schedule, possible release date, ratings etc. During the meeting I thought my head was going to explode. Then I had to go another meeting (more on that group some other time).
Last week I called several different international moving companies to get estimates. One, the price is a good $1000-$2000 more than what I budgeted, and two, the information required by Italian customs is completely confusing. All the movers said moving goods to Italy and dealing with the port of Naples is drama. One suggested I make my point of EU entry the UK but that would add almost another month to the arrival time. I don't want to wait 3-4 months to get my things. Plus, the more places this crate has to travel, the more opportunity there is for something to go wrong.
I am not moving any furniture so I am getting a crate that is 1/4 the size of a 20ft. container. The movers will pack my stuff, get it to the warehouse, consolidate it in NYC and then it sails across the Atlantic.
I called the Italian consulate to get to the bottom of what I need to do. They told me to call the French consulate (I have a French passport). The lady at the consulate annoyed that French citizen was asking about moving to Italy in English, (zut allors!!) referred me to a website of the French Embassay which was of no help.
I had two moments of "what the hell am I doing?" yesterday. When I was sitting in the meeting I thought, I will really miss working with my colleagues and when I was looking for information on an Italian website regarding Codice Fiscale (similar to our social sercurity number), my eyes glazed over from trying to read the legalese Italian. It's one thing to read an occassional article in Italian Vogue or Vanity Fair, (which takes me forever) but this completely frustrated me. All my expat friends keep saying once I am there I will become fluent. I think about trying to open a bank account, sign up for health insurance, Internet etc. in a foriegn language and I start to panic.
Also, I am finally at a point in my career here in Hollywood when I'm not living check to check. Now I'm moving to where the dollar is so freaking weak and I am going to write for a living?! ha. Everyone and their mother is writing a script or a novel in Los Angeles. Most do not succeed.
Okay I need to freaking relax. The move seems more real now. I am starting to get calls from agents and execs as the word gets out that I'm leaving. Last week I began cancelling all my utilities, insurance, etc. It's a major pain in the butt and this process is in English!
Thursday, April 19, 2007
The French Elections
I had to take a break from the news last night. Instead of only focusing on all the negative things going on in the world today I needed to remember something positive.
For example, the right to vote. There are places in the world where this is not a right. In this country I wouldn't have been able to vote 100 years ago and it would have been very difficult to vote only 50 years ago. I have no patience for people who don't vote then complain about the government. In order for a democracy to work we have to participate.
France holds their national election on Saturday. This will be the first time I can vote as a French citizen. I have Googled info on the three main candidates. I received emails from them and a big packet of campaign literature from all the candidates. Too bad it's all in French (kidding!). I have had nothing but positive interactions at the French Consulate despite my inability to speak French. I'm not sure what I was doing during my 8 years of studying zee language (jr. high/ high school and one year of college...so sad).
I haven't received any sample ballots so I hope when I go to vote I won't seem like a idiot.
off topic: Can I spell check on blogger?
For example, the right to vote. There are places in the world where this is not a right. In this country I wouldn't have been able to vote 100 years ago and it would have been very difficult to vote only 50 years ago. I have no patience for people who don't vote then complain about the government. In order for a democracy to work we have to participate.
France holds their national election on Saturday. This will be the first time I can vote as a French citizen. I have Googled info on the three main candidates. I received emails from them and a big packet of campaign literature from all the candidates. Too bad it's all in French (kidding!). I have had nothing but positive interactions at the French Consulate despite my inability to speak French. I'm not sure what I was doing during my 8 years of studying zee language (jr. high/ high school and one year of college...so sad).
I haven't received any sample ballots so I hope when I go to vote I won't seem like a idiot.
off topic: Can I spell check on blogger?
Thursday, April 05, 2007
Two years ago today, I fell in love. With Rome.
This post might be a little long. :)
It was love at first sight. I didn't expect it but since my first trip to Rome, nothing has been the same.
I arrived in Rome a mess. No job (the company I worked for shut down suddenly right before Christmas), depressed, angry, confused about how my life ended up in such a state and no idea where I was headed. I worked in such a competitive business, there was no chance that I would find a job any time sooon. I found myself staring down the barrel of a big birthday with no husband or children, no mortgage, no savings, and the icing on the cake... my parents sold the house we grew up in and moved back to the Caribbean.
That Christmas was interesting. People would ask me, are you going home? I wasn't sure where home was any more. I would no longer be spending the holidays in Verona, New Jersey, where we had spent the last 30 ones. At that point I had lived in Los Angeles for 6 years and it def. wasn't home. I had never lived in St. Martin but had visited there since I was a baby, but I felt at that time I couldn't say it was my home.
At the last minute, after hearing from an agent that the last producer I met with thought I was over-qualified for a VP job, I booked a trip to Rome. I would be in the city two weeks later. I was planning on taking a longer trip later in the year but put a pin in it due to, you know, not having a job. March of 2005 I really felt like I was on the verge of being in serious trouble. I had always been a glass is half full type of person and suddendly I felt like the damn glass was empty.
I started to think moving to Los Angeles to work in film was one of the biggest mistakes I made in my life and the damage was beyond repair. I took such a big pay cut when I first started it set me back years (and I am still paying the price i.e. no retirement funds to speak of). The day I called my travel agent, I had a meeting with an exec at one of the studios. I stopped by to see a friend on the lot and she told me she was worried about my future in the industry because I had limited myself by not working with mainstream (i.e. white) talent. It wasn't like I set out not to work for "mainstream" companies. One of the first places I interviewed when I moved to Los Angeles, was to be Jerry Bruckheimer's first assistant (he has four). They liked my political experience (Bill Bradley, Ann Richards, etc.) but needed someone with film experience. I thought the filmmaker and the actor I had worked for were talented and was proud to work for them. My friend said it was going to be harder for me to find a job because I "only" worked for Spike Lee and Forest Whitaker. She went on and on about how I needed studio experience etc. I walked across the lot in tears. I was an "older" (anything above 29) black woman working in Hollywood. I was screwed.
The Pope died right before my trip. People including some who had never been to Rome told me to cancel my trip. They said Rome was a crazy city even without millions coming in to say good-bye to the popular Pope. I had booked everything already so I went anyway. I had two names to look up, both friends of friends.
I wasn't thinking "oh my God I can't wait to get to Italy". I had traveled to other countries so I was just relieved to get a break from L.A. for a minute. I didn't know anyone in Rome and I was traveling solo. I could take my time and do what I wanted. To the best of my knowlegde there is no one in my family of Italian descent. I didn't speak the language (I had taken a course at Berlitz and knew how to say hello, good-bye, and my name). I had never step foot in Italy, yet by the end of the week I knew I was home. I felt it to the core of my being.
I wondered if it was the timing, maybe because of everything that was going (or not going on) in my life. May 2006 I went back and rented an apartment in Trastevere (I had my blog by then so I did write about that trip) for almost three weeks. Timing had nothing to do with it.
On that first trip I realized I was focusing on the wrong things and my values had been completely corrupted. I was getting too caught up in shallow Hollywood bullshit. I am not a film snob (hello, I think Pootie Tang is hilarious) but with marketing departments deciding which movies get made, art gets thrown out the window. Movies dumbed down to appeal to everyone and made by committee usually suck. In Rome I remembered why I wanted to work in film in the first place and it had nothing to do with making money, leasing a Beemer or having a house in the Hills. It was about telling stories and being creative and maybe every so often you worked on something that might move people. In Rome surrouded by all the art, history and culture, something was telling me there was more to life than reading about who was shopping at Kitson in Us magazine.
Post Rome I got back on track. I did get another job, again working with talent as the Senior VP of his production company. He actually does work on some big commerical movies along with independent films and anyone who says he's not "mainstream" because of the color of his skin is ignorant and needs to spend more time away from the studio lots and out in the real world. I started writing again and hope to finish my first novel in a few months. I started a blog. I have my E.U. citizenship and speak another lauguage (somewhat poorly, ha). I refuse to lie about my age anymore and think Hollywood's obession with youth is fucking stupid. Heads up people, all the plastic surgery isn't going to stop time. Guess what? All of us will die. Deal with it.
Rome changed my life for the better. I was talking my friend Giampiero the last night of my latest trip a few weeks ago. We met during my first trip to Rome. He is a friend of a friend's friend. He said he hoped I would move to Rome soon, that I had such a great energy and was so positive. I found my journal from that year. I re-read the entries before my trip. I have no idea who that miserable person was.
It was love at first sight. I didn't expect it but since my first trip to Rome, nothing has been the same.
I arrived in Rome a mess. No job (the company I worked for shut down suddenly right before Christmas), depressed, angry, confused about how my life ended up in such a state and no idea where I was headed. I worked in such a competitive business, there was no chance that I would find a job any time sooon. I found myself staring down the barrel of a big birthday with no husband or children, no mortgage, no savings, and the icing on the cake... my parents sold the house we grew up in and moved back to the Caribbean.
That Christmas was interesting. People would ask me, are you going home? I wasn't sure where home was any more. I would no longer be spending the holidays in Verona, New Jersey, where we had spent the last 30 ones. At that point I had lived in Los Angeles for 6 years and it def. wasn't home. I had never lived in St. Martin but had visited there since I was a baby, but I felt at that time I couldn't say it was my home.
At the last minute, after hearing from an agent that the last producer I met with thought I was over-qualified for a VP job, I booked a trip to Rome. I would be in the city two weeks later. I was planning on taking a longer trip later in the year but put a pin in it due to, you know, not having a job. March of 2005 I really felt like I was on the verge of being in serious trouble. I had always been a glass is half full type of person and suddendly I felt like the damn glass was empty.
I started to think moving to Los Angeles to work in film was one of the biggest mistakes I made in my life and the damage was beyond repair. I took such a big pay cut when I first started it set me back years (and I am still paying the price i.e. no retirement funds to speak of). The day I called my travel agent, I had a meeting with an exec at one of the studios. I stopped by to see a friend on the lot and she told me she was worried about my future in the industry because I had limited myself by not working with mainstream (i.e. white) talent. It wasn't like I set out not to work for "mainstream" companies. One of the first places I interviewed when I moved to Los Angeles, was to be Jerry Bruckheimer's first assistant (he has four). They liked my political experience (Bill Bradley, Ann Richards, etc.) but needed someone with film experience. I thought the filmmaker and the actor I had worked for were talented and was proud to work for them. My friend said it was going to be harder for me to find a job because I "only" worked for Spike Lee and Forest Whitaker. She went on and on about how I needed studio experience etc. I walked across the lot in tears. I was an "older" (anything above 29) black woman working in Hollywood. I was screwed.
The Pope died right before my trip. People including some who had never been to Rome told me to cancel my trip. They said Rome was a crazy city even without millions coming in to say good-bye to the popular Pope. I had booked everything already so I went anyway. I had two names to look up, both friends of friends.
I wasn't thinking "oh my God I can't wait to get to Italy". I had traveled to other countries so I was just relieved to get a break from L.A. for a minute. I didn't know anyone in Rome and I was traveling solo. I could take my time and do what I wanted. To the best of my knowlegde there is no one in my family of Italian descent. I didn't speak the language (I had taken a course at Berlitz and knew how to say hello, good-bye, and my name). I had never step foot in Italy, yet by the end of the week I knew I was home. I felt it to the core of my being.
I wondered if it was the timing, maybe because of everything that was going (or not going on) in my life. May 2006 I went back and rented an apartment in Trastevere (I had my blog by then so I did write about that trip) for almost three weeks. Timing had nothing to do with it.
On that first trip I realized I was focusing on the wrong things and my values had been completely corrupted. I was getting too caught up in shallow Hollywood bullshit. I am not a film snob (hello, I think Pootie Tang is hilarious) but with marketing departments deciding which movies get made, art gets thrown out the window. Movies dumbed down to appeal to everyone and made by committee usually suck. In Rome I remembered why I wanted to work in film in the first place and it had nothing to do with making money, leasing a Beemer or having a house in the Hills. It was about telling stories and being creative and maybe every so often you worked on something that might move people. In Rome surrouded by all the art, history and culture, something was telling me there was more to life than reading about who was shopping at Kitson in Us magazine.
Post Rome I got back on track. I did get another job, again working with talent as the Senior VP of his production company. He actually does work on some big commerical movies along with independent films and anyone who says he's not "mainstream" because of the color of his skin is ignorant and needs to spend more time away from the studio lots and out in the real world. I started writing again and hope to finish my first novel in a few months. I started a blog. I have my E.U. citizenship and speak another lauguage (somewhat poorly, ha). I refuse to lie about my age anymore and think Hollywood's obession with youth is fucking stupid. Heads up people, all the plastic surgery isn't going to stop time. Guess what? All of us will die. Deal with it.
Rome changed my life for the better. I was talking my friend Giampiero the last night of my latest trip a few weeks ago. We met during my first trip to Rome. He is a friend of a friend's friend. He said he hoped I would move to Rome soon, that I had such a great energy and was so positive. I found my journal from that year. I re-read the entries before my trip. I have no idea who that miserable person was.
Friday, December 15, 2006
It's official
I'm a member of the E.U. The French Consulate called me yesterday and said my passport is ready for pick up. I'm going to pick it up today. Excellent.
I thought I would be able to get on the shorter residents line next week in St. Martin but my sister reminded me that the airport is on the Dutch side of the island (St. Maarten) so I will have to stay on the vistors line at customs. C'est la vie.
I just signed up for Intermediate Italian level 2. Two of my friends are repeating the class as well, but are going to take it on a week night. I am going to go on Saturdays. It would be great to be in the same class again but my brain is fried after work and sitting in traffic for an hour before class doesn't help. The grammer in this level was molto difficult, which is why I'm taking the class again. I will bring some earlier chapters with me over vacation to review. I haven't been in class since June. January is going to be fun. ha!
I thought I would be able to get on the shorter residents line next week in St. Martin but my sister reminded me that the airport is on the Dutch side of the island (St. Maarten) so I will have to stay on the vistors line at customs. C'est la vie.
I just signed up for Intermediate Italian level 2. Two of my friends are repeating the class as well, but are going to take it on a week night. I am going to go on Saturdays. It would be great to be in the same class again but my brain is fried after work and sitting in traffic for an hour before class doesn't help. The grammer in this level was molto difficult, which is why I'm taking the class again. I will bring some earlier chapters with me over vacation to review. I haven't been in class since June. January is going to be fun. ha!
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