Is it some kind of portent that my Italian lesson today had me learning about city life and community action, and seemed to obsess over my learning the word disfattismo? It’s hard not to feel some sense of defeatism when faced with such staunch resistance to accomplishing anything. Thankfully, I have truly amazing unofficial support here, so no matter how difficult “the system” makes it for me to live legally in Italy, I’ll always have a place to sleep! I am extremely grateful for all the help I’ve received, and especially for all the hard work Antonella’s put in on the front lines of this insanity–I really can’t imagine how anyone else would be able to accomplish even what we have without a team of lawyers. This shit is crazy to me.
In the months leading up to my arrival here in Italy we had tried our very best to dot all the Is and cross all the Ts, but unfortunately it seems like a lot of things simply can’t be done by correspondence, nor is there a guide of what to do or expect (the embassy in Ottawa was not just unhelpful, but seemed to go out of their way to obfuscate our precise responsibilities–I’m beginning to get the impression nobody really knows what’s going on at all).
Searching for apartments is always hard, and usually stressful. You’re trying to find something that fits your budget, personality, commute and lifestyle all in a neighbourhood that fits. While we’d love to be in a place as close to the city centre as possible, driving and parking are restricted. Since it’s so difficult for her to get to work otherwise, Antonella must drive. Too far away doesn’t make sense either, as that defeats the purpose of living in Italy in the first place; the sense of living in a city is still important for us–not being able to walk to the market seems strange.
On top of the aesthetic considerations, there’s always cost. Can we afford any of this? Most apartments in Italy are advertised for rent without condo fees, garbage fees, water fees, electricity etc. (all par for the course so far), but when those fees included double the monthly cost of living, it’s a bit to think about.
Of course, if a place is advertised as having a kitchen, very rarely does that include appliances. A kitchen is an empty room with only the appropriate holes in the wall to install your own refrigerator, stove, oven and dishwasher (not something I care to afford at the moment). Let’s forget about laundry for now: we Canadians are very spoiled, so I’ll just have to get used to hand washing my undies, since that’s part of the cultural experience.
If an apartment is being advertised for rent, that means that all of its services have been disconnected. Meaning, the landlords are only willing to show it during the day, since the lights just won’t come on (and it’s winter so the sun goes down before most are home from work). As Antonella is a teacher and doesn’t get proper lunch breaks, this limits us already. Besides, how can I check the water pressure if there’s nothing but air in the pipes? That doesn’t really matter anyway, since the notion of what I would consider a shower is an odd one outside of some hotels–most of the time there’s just a tub with a spray hose attached to the faucet, no curtain in sight, so be very careful or get ready to squeegee down the whole room.
Regardless of all my petty whining, we actually did think we had found the perfect place for us. Thanks to the delights of nepotism, the mother of the friend of Antonella’s sister had an apartment that was available, semi-furnished (yay kitchen appliances!), in the same neighbourhood as Antonella’s parents, and with a garage (!), for a very reasonable price, even after all the fees.
Unfortunately the owner was very ill, and a week before we were to sign the contract, she passed away. This means that her family must now deal with not only their own processes of mourning, but of all the legal rigmarole that death entails, while trying to help two desperate and homeless people navigate the murky waters of getting the water turned on.
Naturally, since lawyers in Italy are the epitome of warmth and compassion, they tell us everything will be settled in a week, and then (we find out later) go on vacation for six. Weeks go by, forms are being submitted. A week later, nope, different form, a different signature. A week later, we need more photocopies, also every photocopier in every bureaucratic office in the entire region is broken.
So the poor family in mourning is running around trying to thread the loopholes, and Antonella, my precious advocate and guide, is doing her best to fulfill her end of the bargain. Every week for the past twelve weeks we’ve been told that it will just take one more week, and being the eternal optimists that we are, we believe them.
Since my first month actually in Italy is coming to a close and vacation mode is over, we’ve been scrambling to find anything at all aside from a terrible hotel. AirBnBs are full enough that they won’t negotiate on a monthly discount, so that’s out, especially as spring approaches and prices everywhere rise with the growing Easter lilies.
I feel powerless in all this since, as a foreigner, there doesn’t seem to be anything I can do. The climate for non-natives, especially in this region, isn’t super great right now, and with my visa only lasting a year, nobody wants to commit to a contract that will end by next February, especially since it will take at least a month to get everything set up and in legal order. (One last quirk: all the apartments we’ve seen listed in Brescia include the phrase “well lived in”, which doesn’t mean overused, but not touched by foreign fingers.)
As I mentioned above, we’re homeless but not on the street. We have lots of places to stay, and while it’s not the most comfortable situation for us to be in, it’s a fantastic learning experience for me, since I’m forced to use what Italian I’m learning to do anything. Heck, next week I’ll be staying in a convent full of Franciscan friars, so at least I’ll have some fun stories to tell from inside their ancient medieval walls!
End of rant. Wish us luck!
Frequently Asked Question: Why not just move into the vacant apartment of your friend, since it’s empty anyway and not earning them any income in the meantime?
It is literally illegal (thanks, Berlusconi!) to live in someone else’s home without a signed and notarized rental contract. We cannot have a signed and notarized rental contract until the ownership is transferred once the estate situation is resolved. As well, we wouldn’t be able to get electricity, heating or water turned on since in order for that to happen you need the signed and notarized rental contract as proof of legal residency. Naturally, this is all to prevent corruption, since if a landlord doesn’t have the appropriate signed and notarized rental contracts, there’s obviously no proof of income, nor taxes paid… To me it seems as if the Italian Revenue Agency (Agenzia delle Entrate) is a room full of monkeys pushing scraps of paper into different cubbyholes, but who am I to judge?
A Nix in Brixia 