La Prefettura di Brescia

La Prefettura di Brescia, is an old, barely-repurposed military barracks which supposedly houses an office of the Ministry of the Interior. Surrounded by a high brick wall, we immigrants must line up outside, next to a busy road, at least an hour in advance of their opening, for they only entertain office hours for three days a week, three hours at a time. Similar to the Questura, there are about fifteen people here before us, and many attempts at newcomers to jump the line.

Once inside the gate, the crumbling buildings we see are decidedly less impressive than… anything else I’ve seen in Italy thus far. I mean, Brescia is a really cool city with a fascinating history, gorgeous architecture, lovely people, and a literal castle in the middle, all surrounded by the foothills of the Alps. So naturally, one would want a visitor’s first impression of the true Italy to be a vomit-coloured, barely-standing remnant of a fascist memory.

The second line is also outside, and although it’s quite a bit cooler than Monday, the sun is beginning to threaten an appearance, which is a welcome treat. When the door opens, a large, serious-looking man blocks the way and begins gently questioning those in line. To be honest, I’m not sure what was really going on, as I haven’t slept since I’ve arrived, but the last thing I heard was that we had to go wait in a third line behind the white tent.

This white tent, of course, is the waiting room. I’m really quite happy I chose to wear my big red hand-knit scarf today, as it’s keeping my neck warm and my spirits high, despite the jet lag. Eventually, a surprisingly chipper young woman opens another door and begins directing people with appointments, and getting everyone in line in order. I was a little nervous at that point since I didn’t have an appointment, but literally everyone we encountered has badgered us into being here, so what else can we do?

After our inquiry, the young woman is perplexed by my odd visa–it’s a work/study/vacation thing, so not typical, I imagine. Next, she does something truly extraordinary: she says she’s not sure, but she’ll be right back after asking her superior. I couldn’t believe it! Instead of making up some nonsense to try and save face, she saved face by actually telling the truth! And, lo and behold, she returned within but a few minutes!

Here’s the kicker: we never needed the permesso di soggiorno. As I suspected, my visa, which was approved, printed, stamped and signed by the embassy in Ottawa, was good enough to allow me to stay in Italy. Huzzah! Quick recap: the embassy told us to register with the police; the police told us to get the permit from the Prefettura; and the Prefettura let us off their bureaucratic hook, and I’m free to come and go as I please. Thankfully at least we have a folio full of paper to prove we went through the motions, and remind us of these treasured memories.

In celebration, Antonella took me to a wonderful Sicilian pasticceria. We enjoyed strong espresso and fantastic pastries to make a sweet morning ever sweeter. My pastry, pasticciotto alla crema e amarena, even had a surprise (to me) brandied cherry in the middle, che delizioso!

In summary:

• 3 more hours passed
• 4 more lines waited
• 1 lovely public servant
• 1 passport relinquished and returned
• 2 minds put at ease
• 2 espresso drunk
• 2 pastries eaten
• Fewer than 6 Euro spent, service included!

Note: frustrations abated, from here on out it’ll be optimistic sailing and the only stories with a negative bent will actually be funny, or at the very least, amusing; I promise. Thankfully the only bureaucracies left to contend with are the train companies as we have a few trips planned through the interior.