Immigration 101

A few days ago I went with my teammate Cristi to the immigration office to apply for my Permesso di Sogorno (permission to stay). Wow! What an experience! First of all we got VERY lost, Cristi's phone was out of minutes, and I don't have a cell. So we wandered around and asked for directions from three different people who in turn gave three different answers. Go figure. We did, however, finally arrive around 10:30 in the morning. My “appointment” was at 10:47 (I use the word appointment loosely since an appointment consists of standing outside in a crazy line of smelly, dirty, yelling immigrants who are shoving you from every direction in their desperation for a ticket. IF you get to the end... and IF the officials approve of your paperwork... THEN they award you the precious ticket which gives you the right to a real appointment). By the way, Ken and Mindi went for their permesso earlier that week and got to immigration to pick up a ticket at 7am. Their ticket number didn't get called until supper time. Welcome to the world of immigration. Anyway, when we got there they had already CLOSED the ticket booth for the day. I couldn't believe it! If you don't get your permesso your visa will run out and you can get deported! Trust me... this was looking like a very, very bad situation.

However, Cristi and I were not willing to be stopped by a minor detail such as missing out on the all important ticket. So we marched ourselves right into that building and headed for the first uniformed immigration officer we saw. “Signor, Signor Mi Scusi.” Cristi said as she waved my appointment papers over the gate. We were stuck in a group of other apparently ticket-less (and slightly riotous) immigrants and the officer wanted nothing to do with any of us pathetic creatures. “Mi scusi signor! Appointmento!” (by the way... never quote any of my Italian since half the words I use are ones I've made up... e.g. “appointmento”)

We were pointing at the papers now and I was practically jumping up and down in my desire to obtain the all important ticket. And I mean really... how could they not let me in? I had an appointment for crying out loud! I was praying frantically now as I watched his less than helpful demeanor and look of complete and udder disdain.

“Per favore,” I called out for good measure. The man stopped briefly, just long enough to tell us no and NOT look at our papers.

My hope was gone. What were we going to do? Was I going to be shipped out of the country with no return ticket? Would they ever let me come back? My brain was spinning as I frantically searched the room for other options. (da da done)


To be continued...