Officialization 12: Stay Permit, part IV

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View from La Sacra di San Michele, near Torino.

Officialization TOC

  1. Officialization 1: WTF comes next in Italy?
  2. Officialization 2: Apartment
  3. Officialization 3: Internet
  4. Officialization 4: Stay Permit, part I
  5. Officialization 5: Picking Courses
  6. Officialization 6: Stay Permit, part II
  7. Officialization 7: TV Tax
  8. Officialization 8: Stay Permit, part III
  9. Officialization 9: Residenzia
  10. Officialization 10: Health Insurance
  11. Officialization 11: Thesis Registration
  12. Officialization 12: Stay Permit, part IV <– You are here
  13. Officialization 13: Going to the doctors

Stay Permit, part IV

It’s been 11 months since we arrived in Italy. You might be wondering why I am writing about stay permits now, so much later. Yeeaaa. It’s because my husband still hasn’t gotten his.

Last I wrote about this, a lady at Cinformi helped us submit his documents to Questura, even without the  proof that our apartment was larger than the minimum for two people of 45 meters squared. We did eventually need to get that proof. We had to walk up a hill a kilometer to the east, to a municipal office different from the main municipal office, which was located in a very strange place. It was near a fish hatchery, and after a very creepy parking lot… a place that is very difficult to find, even with the address, because Google doesn’t even send you to the right spot. Inside the building, it was also difficult to find the correct office. I had to ask a random worker to help me find the “segreteria” (secretary’s office), who was then able to assist me with my issue.

The secretary was able to look up our apartment in the archives, where they had a physical repository of apartment architectural specifications. We had to come back a couple days later to pick up the documents, and we had to pay another 32 or so euro for the tax stamps (marche da bollo). We submitted these documents to Questura (immigration) many months ago, and waited.

Questura had to send police officers to our house to ensure that my husband was, in fact, living here. They decided to do this on Easter Sunday and Easter Monday. We were gone on vacation that weekend, and it took months for them to send more officers. They wouldn’t tell us when the officers were coming, I guess so we couldn’t fake anything.

In the meanwhile, Questura lost that apartment document.

Since Questura apparently can’t figure out how to call non-Italian phone numbers (in fact, most government offices here can’t), we didn’t find out about this for a little while. When we went back to them to ask what was up, we were pretty annoyed, but there wasn’t much we could do. So we had to go back to the weird place to get another copy and resubmit it (paying all the costs again), and now we are waiting on Questura again.

I’ll be done with my master’s thesis soon (in October if all goes well), and we had wanted to go traveling around Europe for a few months, but if the stay permit doesn’t come through, that might not be possible. Looking at the time we have left and how long each of these steps seems to take, I don’t think my husband is going to get his stay permit before I’m done.

Ridiculous.

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Torino

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The lid to a huge sarcophagus of a high ranking vizier, painstakingly carved of a very hard, nearly black stone.

Last weekend we visited Turin/Torino, the capital of the Piemonte region, and the first, original capital of Italy. It took around 5 hours to reach it from Rovereto (by the cheaper regional trains), so we left on Friday night. The weather was lovely almost the whole time. The first day, we wandered around the town, enjoying the sights and delicious food, before eventually heading into the Egyptian Museum. The top couple floors of the museum were alright, but all the cool stuff was on the bottom.

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The Book of the Dead. Osiris presides over the afterlife ritual, in which Anubis weighs the heart of the deceased against the feather of Ma’at, while Thoth records the result. If the heart is heavier than the feather, it will be consumed by the hippo-lion-crocodile monster Ammut.

The second day, my husband had a Netrunner (card game) tourney, so I headed off on my own. I took my stuff with me so I could head back home in the evening. It was Sunday, so my plan was to take a tour bus out to Sacra di San Michele, an abbey at the top of a cliff overlooking Torino, around an hour away. From my research online, it seemed that this place was a little annoying to reach by public transport on most days, involving some confusing combination of bus/train connections and hiking, but on Sundays in summer they run a tour that goes straight there, leaving Torino at 8:30am, and going back from the Sacra at 13:00. This sounded way less confusing, so I booked that.

I arrived at the bus stop a few minutes early. I found a large Pullman/Greyhound type of bus, and asked the driver if he knew which bus I should take to the Sacra di San Michele. He said it was his bus. I showed him my phone ticket, which he glanced at, and waved me through. We headed in the direction of the Sacra, gathering a few more people along the way, and I tried to rest a little since I hadn’t slept that well the night before. We reached the town of Sant’Ambrogio di Torino, when the bus driver alerted me that this was my stop. I could see the Sacra way up on the top of the hill nearby.

This was confusing, since I had been under the impression that this bus went straight to the church, not to the town nearby. But from doing my research earlier, I knew that there should be a path to get to the church from here. As I was getting off the bus, the driver told me he was returning around 17:40, I think, from the stop across the street. Again, I had been under the impression that the return bus was at 13:00. When I asked him about this, he said yes, I should wait at that stop at 13:00. Okaaay.

It was only once I got off the bus that I noticed a missed call on my phone, and some text messages. Apparently, the driver of my original tour bus had been unable to reach me, and had left without me. But if the driver of the tour had been unable to reach me, then what bus had I ended up taking? And why had the driver of this bus let me on with a ticket for a different bus?

I was looking at my phone, pondering these questions, when an old lady, who had been on the bus with me, started talking to me. She had heard my conversation with the driver, and she really seemed to want to help me. She described to me how to reach my destination, which was the same way I expected. I would have to hike up the Antica Mulattiera (Old Mule Path), 600 meters straight up. The path was well maintained, laid with stones, and though I was carrying a bit too much on my back, and the weather was a bit too warm for hiking, it was still a nice walk. It took me about 1.5 hours to make the hike, and the views at the top were definitely worth it.

For the way back, I was no longer very confident that the Pullman which I had taken here originally would actually come at 13:00, since the old lady that had helped me earlier, who was from the area, said it only comes in the evening. I had a plan to hike back down and then keep walking until I reached a train station to go back to Torino. However, I also texted the tour operators from the morning again, asking them how to reach their actual return bus. They were helpful, but not very good at explaining it. Anyways, long story short, the road up to the abbey stops at Colle della Croce Nera. That’s where I finally found my bus (which, by the way, was meant to leave at 12:30, not at 13:00 as I was originally given to understand). The driver realized that I was his missing passenger, and seemed annoyed at the situation from the morning, but I think he understood that something had gone wrong on their end (and I made plenty of apologies to assuage him). In any case, he was happy to take me back, and this was much faster.

When I first arrived in Italy, before I could speak some basic Italian, I would not have felt comfortable making a multiple train/bus connection journey like this one for fear of exactly this happening. But now, I know that if something goes wrong, I can probably find someone who is willing to suffer my poor accent to help me find a way back. Additionally, having hiked a ton over the last year, I feel comfortable walking longer distances now as well. I was nervous about this trip from the start, since I knew the destination was a bit harder to reach without a car, but in the end, the skills I’ve gained over the last year helped me feel more comfortable traveling around.