I planned to be back in Italy by now and pulling my hair out over Questura trips. Instead I'm still here in Canada due to bureaucratic-type issues related to the classical expat nightmare known as getting a work visa. (If)/When I ever get this mythical entity into my two hands, expect elation. I will probably throw the party to end all parties. There will probably be champagne. It will be bigger than a Kardashian bash. I have come to believe that getting documents to work in Italy was created as a very smart, very sneaky way for the Italian government to weed out the 2 types of people there are in the world: the people who THINK they want to live in Italy and those who really, truly want it. It's ingenuous. Instead of doing a psych exam, this is their way of testing your limits. That's what all this waiting and re-submitting and waiting is for, it's purposeful. It's Italy's psychiatric exam to see if when they let you in, you'll be likely to spontaneously combust in line at the post office or not. Logically, if you were able to withstand months of waiting, uncertainty, and rejection on repeat, you're less likely to have a meltdown somewhere in the future in the actual country. That is my sort-of rant for the day. Sometimes you just have to stick your tongue out at an anxiety-ridden situation and laugh at it. I am now going to run my frustrations away on the treadmill to lose the 20 pounds I gained from that glorious country. Italy is the best (hint of sarcasm). Italy is the best (totally serious here).
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Jasmine is a former pharmacist turned freelance writer, foodie, and fashionista from Alberta, Canada living "the sweet life" in Bergamo, Italy.
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