#53: The Elusive Permesso di Soggiorno
I don't want to call it too soon, but I believe that we might have almost made it to the end of another Italian August. And while I wouldn't say we are completely mentally and emotionally unscathed, we've done pretty well.
Leo starts back at his childcare (asilo nido) next week, while Raffy has another couple of weeks to go until her new kindergarten begins. However we have booked her into a nearby summer camp, which she is very excited about. I think everyone is ready for a change of scenery.
Last Friday all four of us traipsed back to the Questura (immigration office) - this time to progress David's application for his permesso di soggiorno (permit to stay). It seems absolutely wild that we have been here for more than a year, and he is still so far from having the actual paperwork in his hands to show that he is legally able to remain in Italy.
Don't worry, he is absolutely not here illegally, and is not at risk of deportation or anything dramatic!
The whole system is just so hopelessly backed up, that every new migrant to Italy is in exactly the same position.
When the permesso di soggiorno process was implemented, it was supposed to take only a few weeks. You would apply for the permit within eight days of arrival, soon after you would go to the Questura for processing by the immigration police, and then a few weeks later you would have your plastic card delivered to you.
In the meantime, you would rely on your receipt (ricevuta) from the post office (where you submit the application) to show that you were waiting for your card and not overstaying a tourist visa illegally.
But now, David's case is not unusual.
Submit application within eight days of arrival? Tick.
Wait for the allocated appointment at Questura? Ten months.
Permesso di soggiorno received? Who knows when! Current estimates are that it will take another 2-3 months.
The most insane thing is that the first permesso is only valid for 12 months. And when does the clock start ticking? Of course, from when you apply and receive your ricevuta. So David will most likely receive an expired permesso and have to apply for a renewal immediately.
And so it begins again…
Meanwhile, you should see the state of this ricevuta. It is the flimsiest scrap of paper, and it is the sole piece of evidence that we have of his legal right to stay here. We guard it with our lives, and treat it like it is a precious artefact from the Roman times, but it is still barely hanging on. Woe betide the migrant who loses their ricevuta - it's a real nightmare!
Since the original application, I have become an Italian citizen. So David can now apply for a different permit, with a much longer expiry. Between 5 and 10 years, seemingly depending on the mood of the officer you speak to on the day.
Of course this will likely take another interminable period of time, but at least now we know the score.
My Italian passport is like a kind of talisman against evil immigration spirits. Waving that around (plus the children if things get really grim) means that he is protected from the worst of the immigration minefield.
The upside of these bureaucratic events is that it means I get to catch up with one of my favourite humans here in Lucca. Tony the Fixer. Always five minutes early, with a smile on his face and a story to tell, he makes the insane seem achievable.
Are we at the stage now where we could muddle along without him? Possibly. But when it comes to the Questura, there is no one I would choose to have by my side going into battle than Tony. He keeps everyone on course, and is absolutely unflappable in the face of the most ridiculous circumstances.
One day, when this is all done, I will get him a gift to say a huge thank you. If you have any ideas of what that should be, please let me know! Unfortunately for me he is unique amongst Italians in that he does not drink wine or coffee, and doesn't seem to be a chocolate kind of guy.
Maybe something Australian?
All my love as always,
Kate
