First Appointment: Residenza

 “ Does enchantment pour out of every door?  No, it's just on the street where you live”

- Lerner & Loewe, My Fair Lady, On the Street Where You Live

Today I had my first real appointment relating to my citizenship! (Obtaining my codice fiscale doesn’t really count, because anyone doing business with an Italian entity can request and receive one, regardless of whether they are citizens or applying to be one).

Today’s meeting was for the purpose of establishing my residency here in our little town.  Before I can actually request that the comune review my documents and recognize my Italian citizenship, I must first establish that I live here.  This is the reason why this appointment was scheduled to take place after my signed leased was registered in the comune records. 

I had an appointment scheduled for 3 PM local time, to meet with the town clerks, of which there are currently two (one of whom is planning to retire soon, so the other clerk is learning from him in order to be his replacement).  So I (we, actually, as Dear Husband came along, of course) met up with my translator Nicoletta and her maybe/maybe not boyfriend (whose name I can never remember, because I am awful at remembering names and matching them to faces) at the appointed time in the little square in front of the municipio (municipal offices), and went in and up the stairs.  It’s a really cool old stone building attached to the Angevin Tower.  I mean “cool” in the sense that is was neat-o, or interesting; it was actually very hot inside!  There are also residential apartments in the same building, which are accessed via the interior courtyard behind me in the picture below.

I was a little bit surprised - pleasantly so - that the appointment only started about 10 minutes late - surprised because I've been under the impression that in Italy, appointment times are more like suggestions, not actual fixed times to meet. 

First to arrive after us was the mayor, whose name is Mimmo.  His face looked familiar - we think we may have seen him around town, and just didn’t know who he was.  He was super nice, and very patient and understanding of my lack of Italian language skills.  He does know a little English - I think he said (in Italian) that he had studied it a bit in school.  He asked questions about where I was from, and who my Italian ancestor was and where he was from.  I showed him a picture of my Poppop the Great - I enjoyed hearing the name “Cesare Pesaresi” pronounced with a truly Italian accent.  [Side note:  in America, all my life, I’ve heard “Pesaresi” pronounced as “pee-sa-REE-see,” even by my own relatives, which is not how they say it in Italy:  the real pronunciation is more like:  “peh-sah-REH-see.”  And Poppop the Great’s first name should be pronounced something like “CHEZ-ah-reh.”].  I was pleased that all agreed he was quite handsome.  Well, of course.  Mayor Mimmo also wanted to know how I liked the town so far.  I let him know (through Nicoletta) how much we are enjoying ourselves here, and that we’ve been exploring the town, its shops, and so on, and that we’ve met some interesting people.

The mayor apologized for the delay in scheduling the appointment and explained about how the olive harvest is so important to this region - it seems our little town and its surrounding area is one of the biggest producers of olives in the region.  He even asked hubby (who now insists on being called Paolo here in Italy), if he wanted to work the olive harvest!  Paolo keeps telling anyone who mentions olives that he would like to help, by the way.  🤷

We were joined by the two town clerks, Domenico (the one who will be retiring soon) and Gianluigi (his replacement).  They are the ones who will handle all my paperwork.  The mayor soon left us; according to Nicoletta's translation, he said his wife, who works in Termoli, needed him to attend to some family business.  

The clerks were both very friendly and asked basically the same questions as the mayor.  Interestingly, Domenico was wearing a black LA Dodgers baseball cap; I didn’t have a chance to ask him if he is a baseball fan, or how exactly he acquired the hat.  If someone wants to send me a Phillies cap, I will gladly give it to him!

We soon got down to business:  there were some basic forms to fill in, with information about my name, codice fiscale, date of birth, where I was born, my spouse’s name and his date and place of birth, the address where we are living here in town, my highest education level, and so on (I learned that “bachelor’s degree” translates as “laurea” in Italian, according to the forms).  As when I applied for my codice fiscale, I had to sign the paperwork using my maiden name, since Italian women do not change their names when they marry, and I had to present my passport to them so they could photocopy the relevant pages, including the one with my entry stamp.  There were the inevitable questions about my name on my passport being my married name vs my maiden name, and about my codice fiscale (because the letters in it are based on my maiden name).  I have a feeling this won’t be the last time these things come up.  They were also intrigued by my first name; it is a bit of a struggle for Italians, much as it is for Americans, although for a different reason: my name contains the letter “y,” which isn’t included in the formal Italian alphabet (which officially has only 21 letters; j, k, w, x, and y are seen only in words imported from other languages). They all wanted to know who named me (my mother) and how they came up with that name.  I agreed (through Nicoletta translating) that it’s a stupid name, and explained that -ann was tacked on at the end to please my Catholic grandfather with the appearance of the inclusion of a saint's name - at this, they all nodded in understanding.

Now that my residency forms are on file, I need to have a visit from the vigile urbani, literally, the city watchman.  In reality, he’s kind of a policeman/city official, who will come to our apartment to take a look around and confirm I (we) actually live here in order for my residency application to be approved.  Technically, he has 45 days to do so; in reality, he may come tomorrow morning, as per the town clerks.  They said they would ask him to do so, anyway, since I really can’t go anywhere else until he makes his visit.  They also described the vigile as “weird,” and kind of laughed as they did so - so I’m not sure what to expect.  I’ll give it a 50-50 shot that he will show up tomorrow, because Italy.  And also, because of the olive harvest.  We shall see!