Checking In, Checking Out

Back to the hotel, I checked out and was given directions to the landlady's. It was a walkable distance, but I wanted to give up. Because the street signs were hard to locate and see. I hopped into a cab. The lady driver was nice, and told me it was impossible to drive into the place and it was only five minutes’ walk. For the first time I felt it was a blessing in disguise not to have my suitcase with me.

With lap top, hand luggage and a map, I made my way down more narrow steps, spooky dark lanes with a true medieval feel. I found my landlady's house in an historical building.

My landlady, who does not understand a word of English, showed me to my room, her kitchen, the bathroom, etc. It finally dawned on me - I am LIVING here - I need to buy supplies. So out I went to get basics – towels (had to use a dictionary for this one - it is a long word which I had not learnt), stocks for breakfast, etc.

I got back by 5.00 pm. Being new to this part of town, I did not want to venture out too late and returned after eating a small snack of sandwich and coke - my lunch cum dinner all rolled into one.

My landlady asked if I had bought stuff for tomorrow, for the shops would be closed, being a public holiday. I showed her my loaf of bread.

At 8.30 pm she knocked on my door, "May I come in? What are you doing?" "Oh, writing," I replied. "To whom?" "Er... boyfriend," I blurted out. Somehow that was the only Italian word that came out of my brain at that moment. I didn't know how to explain "blog" in Italian! She smiled knowingly and said, "Come, have some dessert." She had hand-made the pasta herself. Pasta? Dolci? Yes, cold pasta with choc and nut "sauce". The region's specialty, she said. She gave me a slab of cheese to go with it, and later a pear.

She then gave instructions for tomorrow. She would go out to the cemetery early in the morning to visit her husband's grave (1 Nov is the day to remember the dead) and would leave behind a cup of coffee for me in the morning.

Mad Hunt

The hotel receptionist gave me directions to walk to the Uni. It looked like a short distance. But barely had I stepped out of the place and I was wandering which direction to head for.

So I went into a gift shop to ask for directions. I managed to compose a grammatical question. But I struggled to understand her instructions. "Scendere…" What's that? Sounds familiar, but I struggled to recall. "Go down the steps," she said helpfully.

And that was the beginning of many a steep slope climbing. I had to go through some arch, supported precariously with scaffolding, walk down a narrow path, very weary of scaffolding and men doing construction works, etc. "What kind of Uni is this, buried among ruins, " I muttered under my quickening breathe.

Lo and behold, I reached a building and some signages pointing to the Uni. But I was not sure if it was the Uni in question, or the other Uni. I asked a fashionably-dressed Asian student and she said curtly as she hurried off, "this is it", pointing to the building decorated with flags, in front of us.

At about 10.00 am, I went to the Questura (police station office within the Uni) to get my permesso di soggiorno. Was told to produce some photocopies which I'd not done so back home, buy some stamp-tax duty from the nearby tabacchi (convenience store), buy health insurance from the post office and then return to the office to get the permit. They close at one! And so began a mad rush - all on foot on this hilly slopey city...trying to locate all these places with my infamous sense of direction.

I even passed by a lingerie shop to buy underwear and socks (thanks to my delayed luggage I had to buy such things!) ... am quite sure I have not learnt how to say "panties" in Italian but socks, yes. But just didn't know why the Spanish word "zappatos" (shoes) cropped up instead.

I got side-tracked again and decided to go down another slope to the accommodation agency to pay for some service fees and security deposit. Was told the landlady rang the office to say I could move in one day earlier (ie, today) - her previous tenant had moved out.

I made it back to the Questura before 1.00 pm to get the permit to stay, and even to go to the "scholarship office" to report myself and hopefully to get my scholarship money!

She filled in some forms and asked if I spoke any Italian, and I said, "un pocco" and she went, "un po". Gosh - out had come my subconscious Spanish again.

She asked if I had wanted to join the beginner's class (for those with zero knowledge of the language) or to take the test on Wed 2nd to determine the level to put me in.

The best part was, with that, she finally signed the form allowing me to go to the bank next door to get my money. They've increased the amount from 650 euro to 700 euro, and I wasn't going to complain! After deduction of the discounted school fees, I was to get 500 euro and the balance of 50 euro after I'd passed my test and started class. I made it to the bank at the Uni in the nick of time - it opens from 8.20 am to 1.20 pm!

Getting money from the Italians is not easy. Forms were filled, documents checked and my name found in the maser list. But he had to check his PC, made at least two long phone calls and I began to wonder if I was to encounter more "Janet Loh moments" like, "oh they spelt your name wrongly in the records so we can't release the money..."

First Night in Perugia

I reached the bus terminal finally. I went down the escalator - long underground walk, cutting through some museum, up wrong exit. Went back down, and asked museum shop staff where taxi stand was.

Found it, but had to call for a cab. Driver arrived, drove less than three minutes and said, "Hotel Priori, ma e vicino! 5 minuti. You speak English? Ok - it's impossible to go by car... you walk left, down the slope, and it's your hotel." Still, I had to pay him 8 euro, for his directions and for making the trip, I guess.

Went into the hotel, came out again to orientate myself. It's smack in historical central, just behind the National Umbrian Gallery and next to Cattedrale S.Lorenzo.

It was so lively and full of people - locals and tourists. It was only 5.00 pm but already dark and cold.

Exhausted and hungry, I wanted something quick to eat, but not at a resto or cafe, where they take their own sweet time.

So I went into a hot dog place to get a hot dog. The guy asked what toppings I wanted to go with it and I simply pointed to the gherkins and he said, "picante" helpfully. "Si, picante," I repeated politely. He then tried to flirt with his eyes and sweet smile, asking, "di dove sei, il Giappone?" "No, Singapore, e tu?" I replied. "Albania, tu conosce?" he replied. I nodded and left hurriedly.

With warm food in my hands, (my first warm food after eight hours since arrival at the airport) I was not in the mood to flirt any more!

I sat at the steps of Cattedrale S. Lorenzo, gazing at the lights and the couples sitting on the steps. Trying to squeeze my brain to recall if I had been here before. It looked so familiar. In 1992, after my studies in the UK, I had taken a Europe tour by coach, and we seemed to have stopped here on route to Florence. I seem to recall my guide saying, "Perugia, beautiful medieval city..." and even vaguely remember going into the art gallery to see an exhibit on Dali.....

Images....

At the Airport in Rome
Kit, my Singaporean friend who is on the same flight, and on her way to Todi for language class for two weeks, asked two men at the bus station, in Italian, "is this the place to take the bus to Todi and Perugia?"

"Toreno?" one of them asked. "No, Todi, " she said. "Toreno?" he repeated. "Todeeeee,” she slowed down her speech. "Ah, TO-Di !’’ he seemed to understand now.

I smiled at Kit and said, “it’s your accent dear." "I can't help it," she laughed.

On the Bus
Long winding journey on highways. Four hours to kill.

Kit was still chatty. But I was so sleep deprived I had a headache. I told her I was going to take a nap.

I woke up when the bus passed by some beautiful country side. Reality sunk in - I am finally in il bel paese - l'Italia. And I am going to live here, and live a student's life.

A Little Love Message

Per Yannick

Mai un minuto passa senza pensare a te.
L'immagine del tuo viso si iscrive
Nella mia testa
Nel mio cuore
Nella mia anima.

Non mi puo lasciare mai.


8/10/05

Arrivederci

Next week this day I will probably be at the Police Station in Perugia battling over my ‘’permesso di soggiorno’’, and then running around like mad trying to buy health insurance at the post office, sitting for my entrance test and getting matriculated at the university.

It’s four more days before I leave for my one-month study in Italy and I am probably the most ill-prepared student.

I have not got my hotel accommodation booked (I need to stay temporarily at a hotel first before moving into the landlady’s), have not got my suitcase, let alone packed.

I barely got my study visa… and now the return leg of my flight has been screwed up by my travel agent. She promised to ‘’try her best’’ to try another flight, after letting the airline ‘’cancel my original booking’’, but If she screws it up again tomorrow, it would mean I would arrive Singapore later than planned, and miss a regional meeting with my boss, who would be flying here all the way from France, and who has already kindly agreed to postpone this meeting to December due to my trip. What is the point of yelling? She could not undo her irresponsible act, and it would not create any additional seat in the flight for me!

I don’t know why I am so nervous. I have gone on more ‘’exotic places’’ alone before. And I have also gone on more ‘’tough’’ business trips. But this time, it must be the pressure of juggling both work and study, and to be away for a considerable length of time.

Actually, it’s no big deal for my European colleagues – vacations are necessary and sacred for them. One of them was surprised I left behind such detailed contact info since I was ‘’on vacations’’. My boss even replied, ‘’ Janet out for a month dedicated to tortellini, spaghetti, ravioli, taglioni, ravioli i tutti quanti’’ when I asked him if I could refer urgent matters to him, in my absence. My President for Asia, also said, ‘’Enjoy, arrivederci!’’

I know one month will whoosh past in a blink of an eye. But I will miss the simple pleasures that I love here.

I will miss the horrible butterflies-in-the-stomach feeling just before my ballet lessons. Just thinking of catching up with the choreography with a very tired mind at the end of a hectic work day gives me stomach cramps. But once the music begins and the teacher starts, everything disappears, only pure joy remains.

I will miss saying hi to the friendly Starbucks guys after yoga on a quiet Saturday morning, as I order my usual double espresso and sandwich, and try to cramp one week’s worth of Italian homework just before I dash for class.

I will miss the putting on the forlorn look at my Italian tutor during class on Saturday, and saying, ‘’una pausa, per favore?’’ And when she said yes, we would dash for our much-needed espresso at McCafe, or Ben & Jerry’s ice cream.

I will miss the people at the towel counter at the gym – ‘’hi Janet, you have been traveling again, long time no see…’’ Or the nod and smiles of the security guard at the Club on a Sunday morning as I leave for my run – ‘’morning – going for a run?’’

I will miss my Sunday morning runs and hearing one of the gym members say after the run, ‘’you have lost weight again?!’’

I will miss lunch appointments at Holland Village, and talk about new recipes with Aileen.

Most of all, I will miss having teh tarik and chats with dear Yannick at Far East Square.

Ah, but I will be back. And I can’t wait to catch up with friends back here again.

Ciao, arrivederci.

Battle with visa

In my next life I want to work for the Italian embassy. The opening hours are Mon, Wed and Fri 9.30 - 11.30 am and Tue & Thur 2 - 3.30 pm. When you call them during opening hrs they put u on hold forever or sullenly ''answer'' your queries or refer you to their website full of ambiguity. And when you sent them email enquiry as invited by the website, they do not reply. It's really la dolce vita - sweet easy life.

This morning I went to the embassy armed with a dossier of documentation of my life history - my parent's name, my bank account statement, my health insurance, my air tickets and accommodation confirmation, my employment letter and company insurance, letter fr the Uni, letter of undertaking to say I wd purchase ''Italy-valid health insurance'' (of more than 60K euro... as stated in their pre recorded message when I rang), various photocopies of stuff etc etc.....

The woman at the counter meticulously checked every document and gave me a contemptuous look, asking - ''where is your original letter from the Uni? '' I thought the instruction was to give PHOTOCOPIES - but she insisted on original. Oh well.

After that she looked at my letter fr HR - it simply stated that I am under the employment of Gemplus, as Comms Mgr, since 23 May 2001. She was not satisfied. ''Are you so you are still employed there?'' I told her yes, it stated ''Janet Loh is employed as ... since... and here is the company's insurance letter to prove it...''

She retorted, ''the letter should have said that you are under the employment but will come back in a month's time to continue to work for them as you are away for a mth to study....and are you sure this company insurance is valid worldwide?'' Oh please!!!!!!! and of course the insurance is for worldwide - I need to travel for work and once even had to be hospitalised in Sydney while there for a stupid convention!!!!

And then she took away the doc, to return with a stamp on the original letter fr the Uni. It seems I needed this precious stamp to get another permission to stay fr the police station upon arrival in Italy. The previous scholarship awardee told me that I need the stamp on my health insurance but somehow she stamped it on the letter. When I asked if it's the same stamp that I wd need to obtain for my health insurance and showed her the instruction sheet given by the Uni, she showed it to an Italian colleague who curtly said, ''for this you need to go to the police station.'' Talk abt ''diplomacy'' and helpfulness!

I don't understand. Italy is not doing well economically at well. A teacher's pay is no more than 1K euro a month and many are unemployed. True, tourists flock there for a piece of ''romantic'' Italy but shouldn't they buck up their service image to boost even more tourism? I know they are weary of Eastern European chicks trying to go there to be prostitutes (a real problem in most parts of Western Europe anyway) but that does not mean you need to be unhelpful in general.

I looked around me and I was not the only one flustered. An Indian guy tried to get a visa for a biz trip and he was so ''subservient'' and ultra polite, hoping to get his application approved speedily. ''Can I try my luck and come back tomorrow?'' he asked meekly... Another guy tried to apply for a visa for his maid and they made him run round the bush with all sorts of unheard documentation which baffled him. But he sounded equally deferential, acquiescent, docile, compliant and submissive it's almost disgusting. ''Sorry - I am really new to this and need all your guidance and help, don't mean to ask so much....OK - I will rush to the maid's embassy now and get it now - what time do you close?'' I am sure he was just trying to swallow his pride - all for the sake of a visa and not to antagonise the powerful officer.

I must be the only brave one who dared to look at them squarely and talked back.

I shall wait and see if I dare do that at the police station when I get there - in my humble Italian.....