The adventure began immediately: Dige's, our normal place to buy bus tickets, is closed for the week. I went off to the tabacchi in Piazza del Popolo. It was closed for the day. I asked across the street at Gran Cafe. Oh, good, they sold bus tickets, too. To Perugia? No, only local buses. They suggested I ask at the information desk in the Piazza. Great idea, because the woman at the counter there knew that tickets are also sold at the tabacchi in Piazza Garibaldi. I went there to inquire, and they had...exactly one. I bought that and headed down to what we thought might be the next good spot to try, Bar S. Maria on the way down the hill. Yes, Bar S. Maria sells them, but they had just sold their last one. However, he knew that the tabacchi just inside Porta Romana at the bottom of the hill also sells them. Down I went, only to be told that they only have the 10-trip passes. But wait! Here's one! Whew! Ashley and I could both go.
We stepped out into the piazza, onto the bus, and off we went. This particular bus is a slow one, stopping at every hamlet and avoiding the highway. An hour and a half later we arrived in Perugia, glad to be off a swaying bus and desperate for lunch (it was now 1:00).
We found a nice looking pizza spot under umbrellas in the middle of town, and were quickly invited to sit down by the waitress, who showed more commercial astuteness than I have come to expect from servers in Italy. Of course she was Bangladeshi.
My pizza!
After the pizza we went off to the Mini Metro for the trip across town to the Questura. Ashley liked the Mini Metro turntable and the little cars themselves as much as Alexandra and I did. Don't know what I am talking about? You will have to search through the posts from November or December.
Finally, the sort of modern government edifice itself!
Notice the people waiting in the shade by the gate. We had only been told that I had to be there at 3:00 on a Tuesday. I really didn't expect the same camp-out-waiting-for-concert-tickets line and ensuing scrum that we had to endure twice while applying. I was instantly very glad that we were 45 minutes early and, considering the heat, wishing more than a little that I didn't have a 45-minute wait just to get inside to wait again.
At 3:00 the scrum commenced, with the usual mix of rule followers and line jumpers, broken out roughly by ethnicity and, for Italians, what region they were from. At 3:05 the officers actually opened the gate and started sorting people by task and what supporting documents they had brought.
It got ugly quickly. The North African family in front of us refused to be herded out of the way by the officer shouting at them. "I am here for my documents. (In English, consulting in French between themselves)" "Well, you don't speak Italian and you don't have a number you should have been here this morning like I told you before! (In Italian)". "No, this is the right time. I am here for my documents."
Ashley and I squeezed past that group to the female officer working the other side of the doorway and I quickly understood the family's indignation. I showed the officer my receipt (a very official duplicate copy of my application, complete with stamped picture), and she hadn't looked at it for 5 seconds before demanding some electronic registration card. "No, I don't need it. My wife called to verify that I only need this receipt. My Permesso is ready!" She continued insisting, pointing out that the Reason for Staying on the application was "family reasons", and where was my wife from, anyway? Upon learning that she is British the officer gave a resigned look and told me to wait at Window 5 without a number. Mind you, that was just to get into the building.
Things were MUCH better inside. I only had to wait 5 minutes before getting up to the counter; the woman behind the desk didn't have any questions at all. She just opened a folder bulging with assorted completed applications (there were two, one for A-K and one for L-Z), found mine, applied the tax stamp I had provided, and handed it to me with a smile.
I've got it!
Michael
Congratulations Michael!
ReplyDeleteLove
Vivian