work in progress

On Valentine's day I'll have been here exactly 2 years. I don't feel as if anything has changed from 2006 on, though a lot has. Gone are the days when I was intimidated at the thought of the post office and, unable to remember the obscure names, resulted to pointing at the types of bread at the bakery.

It's still a process, all of it: everything I've learned is missing a more or less significant piece, either due to my own laziness or because 2 years is not nearly enough. Like this:

- I've learned the language, but still miss the in-my-sleep ability of using the subjunctive and the trickier articles correctly. Long conversations and official emails* give me away.

- I've also learned the dialect, though still not able to pass as a native. Also, the locals refuse to let me practice and laugh at me instead.

- Since I've switched from English to Italian as the everyday communication language, several friends are complaining that I'm neglecting their linguistic practice. I've had to start importing foreign friends for that purpose.

- Communication is still difficult on a much more complicated level than the linguistic one. I've still got to learn to keep my mouth shut and/or cover my direct statements with foggy spiral talk as is the custom here. What is normal in Estonia is brutal here and I only have to thank heavens for having friends who can forgive my bursts of rudeness.

- I'm a Veneto resident and refuse to apply for a residence permit on principle. It's not obligatory for EU citizens, but the municipality clerks aren't used to EU immigrants: first they give me a suspicious look, make a long phone call, then agree sulkily that my passport should suffice, then look surprised at the tiny circle of stars inside, ask: but is Estonia in the European Community??? I say: yes, for 4 years already. Then they make another long phone call before they believe me. Only then, after 15 minutes and with impatient people waiting in line behind my back, can we start talking about why I'm there. It's always the same.

- I'm completing a master program at Verona University, in Italian. Luckily they let me write the thesis in English (but who will read it?!).

- I know more of job interviews in Italy than in Estonia, never having worked 9-5 up there. This is getting strange. Also, I'm starting a new job next Monday, the first one where my foreign languages have no importance whatsoever. That should be fun.

- I've finally opened a bank account, though have no idea how to transfer anything through the super-equipped website of IWbank. The bank was something I worked hard to get around, because most of the little Italian banks have sky-high commissions and absurd opening hours. Now I just have an internet bank that has none of the simplicity of the SEB group site. We'll see how this turns out.

- I've only really learned to drive in the narrow country lanes of Alto-Vicentino. My driving licence had prepared me for the one-way streets of Kuressaare, the town without a single traffic light and with perfectly level streets. Here I have mountain-training, uphill parking training and getting-there-fast shortcuts training, courtesy of my patient teacher and role model Riccardo. Driving back in Kuressaare this winter felt unbearably bland in comparison. The traffic in the centre of Vicenza on a rainy night gives me the creeps though and I still haven't mastered the subtle art of stopping the car exactly at the distance of my arm's length at the highway entrance.

- I'm also still not used to seeing movies dubbed into Italian. It's also a surprise to see movies that are originally in Italian - suddenly everything sounds right! Suddenly the actors talk naturally! What a revelation! Also, the fake voices of the dubbers seem even worse in comparison. Italians say that it's professional and whatnot. The truth is that women in American movies never have the high haughty voices of the Italian actresses and the most self-assured macho voice of John Travolta still doesn't compare to what the Italians make him sound like. Top this with bad translation, "you" turned into "Lei", and all the "fuck's" into "accidenti"** and the result is two movies of which I see one and hear the other. It makes my head ache.

Edit: Also, I've grown my hair long out of necessity. I trust no Italian hairdresser: I'm faithfully visiting mine in Tartu twice a year. Several attempts at foreign haircuts in Lithuania, Czech Republic and Turkey have convinced me there is no better. And then, of course, I couldn't afford a haircut in Italy anyway.


* grazie, Saverio :)
** "accidenti" is something that auntie Muriel might say. Whoopsie Daisy.