#31: ID Cards and Espresso in Glass
Ciao Nonni!
I've had another successful burst of bureaucratic activity this week. Honestly, it never ends. But I am feeling very proud of myself for completing these latest tasks, as they have all been conducted in Italian.
While I am still very easily rendered mute in the face of an Italian inquisition, I am at least now able to comprehend a little more of what is being said to me. And by quashing my instinct to panic, I can form monosyllabic responses to most basic questions.
The first quest was to acquire for myself a Carta d'Identita. I'd been told earlier on in our time here that I couldn't apply for an Italian ID card until either I had my Permesso di Soggiorno, or my citizenship application had been completed. Neither of which seem to be being processed with any haste by the authorities.
I don't know what made me think of it, but I woke up on Friday morning last week and thought, you know what? I may as well just try my luck. After all, nothing is achieved here in Italy on the first attempt. So I sent an email to the comune asking if I could apply now with just the post office receipt for my Permesso appointment, or if I had to wait.
A reply came through almost immediately. Of course, it said, you can apply for the ID card. The next available appointment is Monday morning.
Reeling from the shock of such a speedy and helpful response, I quickly sent through my confirmation that I would take the appointment time.
There was a small incident at the door when the woman holding the list of confirmed appointments couldn’t find my name. She seemed like she was squaring up to refuse me entry, until I spotted my name on the third page. Oh, she said, you mean Caterrinee.
I swallowed my indignation at having the pronunciation of my own name incorrectly corrected, and agreed. Of course I’m not Katherine Paterson, I am actually Caterrinee Patersonne. And I must remember in future to introduce myself as such to avoid confusion.
Even better is when anyone asks for David and the kids’ cognome. Argyle in an Australian accent may as well be gibberish. You have to say Arrrrrr-jee-le with a real flourish … and then inevitably spell it as well.
I finally made it to the correct sportello, and found the most kind and helpful bureaucrat yet. And also the easiest process to date. I didn't even need to fill out a form. Just hand over my passport, ricevuta and healthcare card to be photocopied, provide a passport photo, and pay 22 euro. That was it. She said the card would be delivered to my address within 6 business days.
Righto, I thought. Here's where things will almost certainly fall apart. Relying on Poste Italiane for anything on time? Insanity.
Until the doorbell rang this morning and my Italian ID card was hand delivered to me. Three days ahead of schedule. Incredible.
Other recent bureaucratic victories have included getting the bambini set up with their assigned paediatrician in the Italian public healthcare system. A system which I have found to be completely excellent in our experience so far. And also liaising with our new landlords regarding the impending apartment move.
And finally, here's a little Mambo Italiano for you...
I was at the bar the other day with my friend, and we both ordered un caffè (it was around 11am so obviously cappuccini were off the menu). She, however, asked for hers 'al vetro'. Which translates to 'in glass'.
Why? I asked, once the barista had turned to the machine to make the coffees. She laughed and replied that she wasn't sure, it was just how her very Italian friend always ordered her coffee and she wanted to try it out. Sure enough, about 30 seconds later I had the standard porcelain espresso cup in front of me, and she had her shot of coffee in a small, elegant glass.
We spent the next few minutes theorising over what the motivation could be for requesting glass. As even after drinking it, the reason wasn't entirely obvious.
Is it the temperature? Glass being a better conductor of heat and so likely to result in a cooler coffee for faster drinking. It's true that on occasion I have scalded myself trying to knock back a burning hot espresso too quickly.
Or maybe it is so you can admire the crema, and therefore the skill of the barista? Non lo so.
I'd noticed some espressos being served in glass before, but honestly I kind of thought it was just whatever the barista grabbed in the moment. I didn't realise it was by request.
The most perplexing part was when it was revealed that ordering un caffè al vetro is often 10c more expensive. I am completely in the dark and would like for someone to please help me with an explanation!
All my love and hugs, as always.
Kate
