Category Archives: living in Italy

Customs – Clearing Personal Freight into Italy

When Enrico and I left the US, we had been living a grad student life (he was the grad student, I was just poor), and didn’t have all that much to move. Lots of books, my memorabilia, clothing, that was about it. It worked out to 30 boxes and a couple of trunks, which we shipped sea freight to Milan, where we would be living. It took six months or so to arrive, but that was fine as it took us almost that long to find a home and get settled in Milan.

One day we finally heard from the shipping company that our freight had arrived, and we had to go to the customs depot in Milan to get it. We arrived fully armed with inventories of every item that had been packed. It turned out I had been a little too punctilious in compiling the lists. The mention of “folk paintings from Africa” caused one stickler for protocol to threaten us that an art expert would have to be summoned from the local academy to assess the value of these paintings. All in vain my pleading that they were tourist items for which I had paid about $5. But he sent us off to another office for a second opinion.

The second man, fortunately, was on our side.

“Let’s get this stamped and get you out of here,” he said, “because in a couple of hours we’re going to have a sciopero bianco.”

“A white strike? What’s that?”

“That’s where we actually apply every single rule in the book, and nothing moves for days.”

We had planned to get the paperwork done and come back the next day with a truck to actually take our stuff away, but this bit of news galvanized us into action. I believe we finished the paperwork, went for the truck, loaded up (by ourselves), and got out again within two hours.

Jes’ Plumb Iggerant

American Companies Demonstrate Lack of Global Vision

One thing that makes me insane about trying to do business with many American companies is their sheer ignorance about the rest of the world. You might be surprised at the big names that fall into this trap. Examples:

A bank sent a letter that I needed to call them, and helpfully provided a number for me to do so. 866 area code? Where’s that? Oh, it’s a new toll-free number. Well… let’s try anyway. “The toll-free number you have dialled is not toll-free if dialled from outside the United States.”

Now, mind you, the letter they sent me had my address printed at the top, you know, the address that includes ITALY. And there was no other number printed anywhere in the letter or letterhead that I could call. Fortunately, I have some normal numbers scribbled down from a similar occasion a few years ago.

Later – When I finally found the right person, I mentioned the toll-free number problem. He apologized and said that the error had been spotted after the letters were printed, and some were reprinted with a more useful number, but mine slipped through the cracks. At least they knew a mistake had been made. Most American businesses, even those who do plentiful business overseas, have no clue that their toll-free numbers are NOT international.

NB: I used SkypeOut to make the phone calls, which saved me a bunch of money. They had a few glitches at the beginning, but it seems to be working fine now. Now I just have to get back in the habit of calling people.

Last summer I was in the US, and decided to pop down from Boston to DC to visit friends. I looked on one of the travel sites, Expedia or Travelocity, I forget which, and found a flight at the right time and price. Got through the booking process all the way to billing – which meant I had already typed in a lot of information – before I slammed up against a screen that wanted me to enter a US address for my credit card. My credit card is billed in Italy. The site had no provision for that. Nor did its rival, my next try.

I then went to United Airlines’ site, to see if they would give me the same price on the same flight. Yes, they would. Cool. Got through screens and screens of required information, and – boom! – this site doesn’t accept a non-US credit card. NB: This card is issued by an American bank and paid from an American bank account, they only send the statements to Italy. But there’s simply no way to enter a non-US address on the forms on many websites.

So I called United to see if I could purchase by phone. Half an hour later, the second agent I had been passed to finally concluded, in some frustration himself, that there was NO WAY I could use my credit card. Hello? United? Are you an international airline? Do you EVER have customers from outside the United States? Find a travel agent, you say? How can I – they’ve all been driven out of business by Expedia, Travelocity, and the airline websites! I finally had to use my friend’s credit card and pay her back with a personal check – imagine how humiliating this would have been in a business situation.

Ross wanted an iPod for her birthday this year. Okay, these are bound to be more expensive in Europe (I’ve never even seen one here) so, since she was in the States herself at the time, I figured I’d order it directly from Apple, where I could have it engraved with her name and a message: “15 GB for 15 years” – ain’t I the coolest mom ever?

Guess what? Apple wouldn’t take my credit card.

Well, when all else fails, there’s Amazon, who never turn up their noses at my money (although some of their “partner sites”, such as Drugstore.com, do). They even went the extra mile on customer service. This particular model of iPod was discontinued two days after I ordered it, resulting in an immediate $50 price drop at Amazon. They credited the discount back to my credit card, AND say they’ll give me a $50 gift certificate. Thank god somebody knows how to treat customers.

Now, of course, the iPod is having problems, I can’t get it recognized by my Windows machine all of a sudden. And Apple tech support appears to be non-existent. But that’s a gripe for another time.

Lecco Gospel

I borrowed a digital video camera from the office yesterday so I could experiment with video as a means of communication. I have had a video camera for years, but haven’t used it much because it’s analog, so everything I shot had to be painstakingly converted to digital before I could do much with it, and I never got around to acquiring a good encoder, so I was never happy with the quality. Digital is so much easier – attach the camera to the computer via a FireWire cable, and off we go. I haven’t even had to buy new software, as a combination of stuff I already had around has proved to be sufficient. Admittedly, I have more digital media software on hand than most people, thanks to my professional history.

So last night we went out to buy tapes for the camera, and then in search of dinner. We ended up at the Casa di Lucia restaurant in Lecco, where we had a very pleasant dinner out in the garden under a pergola covered in wisteria. As we were finishing our second course, we heard a lot of noise in the entry area, which eventually resolved itself into a gospel choir coming to sing for the diners. We had heard that there was a gospel choir in Lecco, but had never actually heard them. They’re quite good, though they could use some help on pronouncing English.

The lighting was terrible – already dark outside, and the singers were backlighted. The “backlight” setting on this Sony Handycam seems to make no difference at all. I tried Nightshot here and there (not in this clip), which made everyone turn green. In some parts of this clip, you can see the cooks working through in the brightly-lit kitchen through the window behind the singers. And I didn’t have a tripod, so this is a good example of unSteadicam! And the mike is the one incorporated into the camera, so you get all the background noise of the diners (Italians talk even during formal concerts…).

Keeping Cool, Italian Style

My two weeks with the lawyers reminded me of one way in which I have become very unAmerican: I hate air conditioning. Actually, I don’t really mind A/C as such, but the way Americans overdo it. The law and support team from Florida was baffled by the relative lack of air conditioning in Milan’s hot, sticky summer weather (and it’s not even that hot yet). They kept the A/C running at full blast in the conference room where we were working, obliging me to wear long pants and long-sleeved shirts every day – which made the contrast all the more unbearable with the temperature on the streets and the non-A/C train going home to Lecco.

When I was working in the US in the summers, I never got to wear my summer clothing; it was always too damned cold in the office. But at least there I was going to and from work in an air-conditioned car.

So why don’t Italians use A/C more? The trains are in fact supposed to be air-conditioned, but often the A/C simply isn’t working, or doesn’t work very well (other times it works too well – there seems to be no happy medium). At home, it’s just too expensive. We pay twice as much for electricity in Italy as people do in the US. And the grid here won’t stand up to everyone running A/C at the same time: in last summer’s record heat, everyone rushed out to buy air conditioners. The nation’s electrical system overloaded, so we had unannounced rolling blackouts, with people stuck in elevators and so on, and nobody got to enjoy their new air conditioners very much. Personally, we use ceiling fans and, when it’s really awful, standing fans as well.

Commuting Culture Clashes in Italy

On the train from Lecco to Milan the other day, the conductor came down the car, as they usually do, to check tickets. A Spanish-accented woman in the seat in front of me had a generic (distance) ticket, but had not stamped it at the station before getting onto the train, as you are required to do with all tickets. She told the conductor that she had been late and had to rush to get onto the train, and hadn’t had time to stamp it. There are two legal solutions to that problem. One is to seek out the conductor as soon as you get on and ask him to stamp it for you, the other is to write the departure station, date, and time on the ticket yourself. She had done neither. Had the conductor not come around (sometimes they don’t), she could have saved it for another journey, as perhaps she planned to do.

At first I thought the conductor was unnecessarily rude to her. “Pay 5 euros to ‘regularize’ this ticket right here and now,” he said brusquely. Which sounded odd to me; did he mean: “Pay me 5 euros to leave you alone, and we’ll both avoid the hassle of me having to write up a fine” ? But the woman vociferously refused, continuing to complain that she had a ticket, she simply hadn’t had time to stamp it. “You can pay 5 euros, or you can pay 20.46 euros as a fine,” he snapped. “Show me your ID.” (Which he would need to write up the fine.) She refused to do that, either, and was both whiny and abusive about it. “The fine is 70 euros!” he shouted. “You’re refusing to show your ID. Do you want me to call the police?”

We pulled into a station just then, and the conductor used his cellphone to call the local railway police. He may have been faking it, but his “conversation” persuaded the woman to leap off the train. She then stood on the platform complaining loudly to someone who happened to be standing there about how badly she’d been treated.

I was in two minds about this. I disliked the conductor’s manners and attitude, but I had witnessed a very similar scene just a few days before, possibly with the same conductor, and I couldn’t blame him for being tired of the flimsy excuses and bad attitude he was having to deal with. It was clear that each party went away with its own pre-conceived notions firmly embedded: “Lousy, stinking immigrants, they’re all liars and thieves,” on the one hand. “Nasty, overbearing Italians, they pick on us just because we’re immigrants,” on the other. Both sides are right. Both sides are wrong. <sigh>