Citizenship Woes

So after a particularly long service day I was sitting in front of a steaming bowl of saffron risotto and sipping a glass of white wine when Jeff abruptly shows me an email that’s all in Italian but references my Italian Citizenship. What?!? I was immediately ripped from my risotto induced food coma and jolted into reality! I had kept my nervous anticipation of Italian Citizenship on the back burner in my mind for years now. 

Actually two years ago I started this process. I had gone online to the Italian Consolato in San Francisco and downloaded my application. I reserved my appointment online and the soonest appointment I could get was two years out! Yes, the date seemed so futuristic: May 1, 2019. Back in circa 2017 that seemed an eternity.

But a lot has happened in that time, I started gathering my supporting documents: birth, marriage and death certificates all the way up the family line. For me that is four generations. My great grandfather was the last one to have Italian Citizenship. Fortunately for me Italians tend to settle in one place and put down roots so I didn’t have to look far to find all of the certificates. I gathered them from the county clerks in Modesto, Sacramento, Madera and Kansas (my mom and dad got married in Kansas). Then I had to get all of the documents “Apostillized”, that means taking the documents to the Secretary of State. For California that means going to Sacramento, that was a fun little excursion and a little surreal. I really felt like an imposter, “yeah, certify this document will you? I am an Italian citizen…NOT!” These are the thoughts in my head as I sat in the waiting area with all of the other immigrants who truly are citizens of other countries. 

Once I had all of my documents gathered the only one left was the Italian documents for my great grandfather. For this I filled out some application online from MyItalian Heritage.com. Pretty much I paid my $20 and forgot about it, that is until six months later and I got an email from the National Archives of San Francisco saying they have my documents! I actually thought it was a scam so I drove to San Francisco to make sure it was legit. Upon arrival I was actually a little stunned, there IS a National Archives, it’s known as NARA and is quite important to anyone trying to locate their documents that have been lost in time and covered in centuries of dust. 

Here they had a perfect official looking document for me. It was a stack of legal documents stamped with a pretty gold foil seal and tied with red ribbons. In the document was all of the items I needed: marriage and birth certificates for my great grandfather and his wife. There were also travel documents for every time he entered through Ellis Island in NY. Yes, he actually came the first time as a teenager in the military, a second time as a newly married man without children and a third time as an older man with two teenage sons. 

My great grandfather Carlos Brunetti officially first came to America in 1903 with his wife. He stayed in America for 21 years in which time he gave birth to my grandfather, Mario Brunetti in Madera California in 1912.  He returned to Italy in 1924 with his wife and sons. Was he homesick for Italy? 

Whatever the reason I don’t think he planned on returning to America but my grandfather, Mario, had other ideas. When he was 18, Mario left Italy by himself and returned to America on a boat in 1930. The rest of his family followed in 1935 when they all returned to America. For this reason my grandfather spent from age 12 to 18 in Italy. Once he returned to America he met my grandmother in Modesto California, they married and had five boys, the oldest was my dad, Mario Jr. my dad was born and raised in California as was I.

But I digress, all of this document collection happened years ago and I brought all of it here with me here to Italy. After living in Italy for some months and successfully acquiring a Visa and Permesso di Soggiorno, I was able to establish my residency in Nettuno through proof of a long term rental contract. Once I established residency I could qualify for an identity card. The only thing left to do was apply for my citizenship right here in Italy. We walked down to the Commune (City Hall) and plunked down all of my documentation. The clerk sorted through all of it and made a view requests. I needed everything translated into Italian by a certified Embassy translator (thankfully I had already started this process and just needed to finish the process) and she did not want to accept my NARA documents with the official looking seal and red ribbon. Nope. I needed to get the copies from the Commune in Asti Italy where my family was from. 

This might sound like a relatively easy exchange of information but all of it happened between myself, who only speaks English and Yolanda, the City clerk who only speaks Italian. It actually involved several trips down to the Commune with friends in tow who spoke Italian. The day I was told I needed the documents from Asti I was with Pasquale, thankfully he said it’s no big deal and he would help me communicate with the Commune in Asti. 

In actuality, it was no big deal. I just needed to write a letter requesting the birth and marriage certificates, use google translate and email it off to Asti. It came back to me by email within a few weeks. I learned through this experience of going to Commune, Post offices and Immigration offices that everything in Italy is possible. You just need to be patient and every time you approach a window the person will look back at you incredulously that you don’t speak Italian. They will act like you are asking for the impossible. They will sort through your documents saying “No!”, “impossibile!”, “non giusto!”. They will frown and shake their head at me…and then they will sign it, stamp it and pass me along to the next window. 

Often I am frantically looking around the office for a young teenager or a person from Africa (because they speak English) or a professional looking man. I will approach them and say “do you speak English?” I will get a few “no”’s then I will get a “yes” and I will drag them to the window with me until I understand what the clerk has told me. Every time I end up stumbling out of the office onto the street, blinking into the bright sunlight, clutching a receipt in my hand with a date on it. I’ve passed on to the next level.

All of these thoughts and memories are in my mind as I wake up on Wednesday morning. Today I will walk down to the post office to retrieve whatever has arrived for me regarding my Citizenship. The email says something about the Post Office and my Citizenship. It seems from google translate that I need to go pick something up that had been attempted to be delivered on Tuesday. 

Jeff and I are very excited as we take the 10 minute walk down to the Post Office. I am waiting with bated breath, what could it be? Is it finished? Have I been granted Citizenship? I was told it would take to the end of May, had it come early? Suddenly my mind goes down a dark alley, “What if I was rejected?” What if they say “You must do this request in American, you silly American!” Or “You can’t request Citizenship four generations back! What are you thinking?”

No, no…I shake these negative thoughts from my mind, they wouldn’t have let it go this far if I didn’t qualify. Didn’t Yolanda (the Commune Clerk) assure me that everything was tranquillo? 

We excitedly walk toward the Post Office in the chilly spring air. Suddenly we realize that today is May 1st, it’s a holiday in Italy….everything is closed. We stop in our tracks and let our heads drop. Oh Italy….

It took forever for tomorrow to come but here it is! Thursday morning! I open my eyes and sit up in bed, today is the day I will find out if I got Citizenship. After coffee I again head down the street toward the Post Office, this time I go alone. Hey, this kind of reminds me of the day I took my drivers license test when I was 16. That day I put on a cute sweater and red lipstick, I even wore high heel shoes. I remember the outfit perfectly, even now 30 years later. It was a navy and blue striped sweater and navy blue pumps. I wanted to look good for my drivers license picture. Silly girl, who is going to see your navy pumps in your drivers license picture!?! 

Anyway, you can see how confident I was, but alas, I did not pass my test or get my picture taken. Instead I failed the test and ended up crying in the backyard with only Pootze (the family dog) to comfort me. The red lipstick was smeared and the pumps kicked off and I sobbed with mascara running down my cheeks. Hmmm, I hope today doesn’t end up like that.

I finally reach the post office to see a mob of people out front. Oh man! Since yesterday was a holiday everybody and their brother is here today! To add insult to injury it also was the day the Pensioners get their pension which happens to be at the post office! So I wait in the mob with the rest of the people. Finally when it’s my turn to enter, a lady that is in control of people traffic stops me. I show her my email that seems to indicate that I need to pick up a package here at the Post Office, she says “No!”, “Impossible!”, “Not today!”, “Come back tomorrow!”. 

In my mind I sat “What?!? Oh No lady! Not this time! I can’t wait ANOTHER day!” My inner Italian busted out….but in a restrained American style…I still can’t quite muster the full Italian hissy fit, not in public at least…I do my typical thing of running around looking for someone who speaks English. A young teenager tries to help me but she is told the same thing “No!”, “Impossible!”, “Not today!”, “Come back tomorrow!”. 

No, I CANT WAIT! So I grab another lady, an African lady, I say “Can you speak English?” She says “yes”, I say “and can you read Italian?” She says “yes”. I thrust my cell phone into her hand and show her the email and say “It’s important! I just want to get my package!” She grabs onto the arm of her small child and drags him through the crowd up to the lady that keeps rejecting me. The lady in control of the people entering the Post Office tells her the same thing “No!”, “Impossible!”, “Not today!”, “Come back tomorrow!”. 

I say “What do you think? Is she just trying to get rid of me because there is a million pensioners here?” I really want to pick up this document. The lady from Africa looks at me with a sweet face and says “I think you should try to get it”. That’s all of the encouragement I need. I push my way through the crowd to another lady inside the Post Office that I recognize from helping me before with other legal documents. So I thrust my cell phone into her hand so she can read the email. 

She starts to read it and talks to me rapidly in Italian, I can’t understand her, so again I look around the crowded Post Office for someone who can translate. I see a professional looking man and grab him to help me. He is kind and willing although not that fluent in English. Then the original lady who guarded the door and wouldn’t give me access appears. Soon all three are arguing loudly in my behalf looking at my cell phone while I stand there with my mouth gaping and my eyes wide and blinking. When the arguing subsides, the professional looking man says, “it’s not here, you must go to the Police Station or to the Commune”. 

Suddenly I know he is right. Even though the email seemed to indicate the Post Office, it was the Commune all along! Foolish girl! Of course it’s the Commune! That is where Yolanda is who is handling my Citizenship documents. I must go to the Commune!

So to the Commune I go. Thankfully it is just a few blocks down the road. Soon I am turning the corner into the peach colored building that is the Commune, or City Hall. I approach the back door to find another mob of people! Blast that holiday yesterday! Why must it be a holiday the day before I need to go to the Post office or Commune?! The office hasn’t opened yet so I wait with the rest of the Italians. 

The door opens and we all file in. I sigh and my shoulders slump because now I must find out which line I must get in to ask about my documents. But to my relief I see Yolanda! “Yolanda!” I exclaim! And much to my delight she is happy to see me. She tries to talk to me in Italian but I can’t understand. I try to call my friend to translate but he can’t be reached. She grasps my arm and escorts me through the crowd to her office where I breath a sigh of relief.

We sit down at her desk and she tries to ask me her question again. I call a different friend. My friend whispers  “I am in the middle of the service meeting”.  I hiss “step,outside!” So hearing my voice on the edge of hysteria she says in a hushed voice “ok”. I hand the phone to Yolanda and she explains to my friend what she needs. Yolanda hands the phone back to me and my friend tells me “she needs to know the place of your birth”.  What?, that’s it? I should have been able to understand that! I hang up the phone and Yolanda clarifies that it is more than that. She needs to know what my Embassyis, is it Los Angelos? “No”, I say….”It’s San Francisco”. She rolls her eyes back and sits back in her chair. “I sent your documents to Los Angelos for approval and they said they do not have jurisdiction over your home town of Modesto”. She must have seen the horror on my face because she quickly says “No problem, they sent the documents back to me and now I will send them to San Francisco. Just twenty more days”. 

I frankly feel a little relieved. Of course this conversation happened in Italian and Yolanda scolds me for not speaking Italian yet. She says “è molto importante” I put my head down and say “Sto imparando, piano piano” (I’m learning, slowly, slowly”). 

I ask is “Is everything ok with the process?” In my limited Italian and She says “Si! Tranquillo!”

Tranquillo, ok. I’m feeling a little battered and bruised at this point. What a roller coaster ride! So, I walk back to toward my house and take a deep breath. Twenty more days….. I see Jeff on the corner and he says “It’s ok, let’s have a Pastry and Cappuccino”. Yes, that’s Italy. She frustrates you to the point of hysteria and then consoles you with a cappuccino and cornetto. Stirring my cappuccino at a little cafe table in the morning sun I forgive her…Oh Italy…

For more Articles About Traveling & Living in Italy try one from our Archives:

A Morning Run in Nettuno (Published September 10, 2017)

A Visit to Castelli Romani (Published September 13, 2017)

Dinner for Six (Published October 1, 2017)

Italian Cooking School (Published October 8, 2017)

Culinary Tour of Napoli (Published November 17, 2017)

Changing Seasons in Italy (Published November 25, 2017)

Our Trip to Englands Cotswolds (Published January 12, 2018)

Cooking with Pasquale (Published January 28, 2018)

A Tour of the Garden of Ninfa (Published May 7, 2018)

A Trip to Montefiascone (Published May 17, 2018)

San Gimignano, a visit to a Tuscan Hill Town (Published June 9, 2018)

Tuscan Hot Springs of San Filippo & Saturnia (Published June 13, 2018)

Florence in Fall (Published Nov 6, 2018)

Villas, Palaces and Fortresses (published November 25, 2018)

Path of the Gods and Amalfi Coast (published December 4, 2018)

Budapest in December (published December 10, 2018)

Hill Towns of Central Italy (published January 14, 2019)

The Italian Alps in February (Published February 13, 2019)

House Hunters International in Italy (Published April 24, 2019)

A Californian Surfing in Italy (Published May 1, 2019)

Articles about Tiny House “Homesteading” in California:

The Beginning of a Blog (Published May 18, 2017)

The Cherry Tree (Published May 20, 2017)

How to Roast Your Own Coffee Beans (Published May 22, 2017)

Successful Square Foot Gardening (Published May 23, 2017)

Yosemite (Published June 7, 2017)

My Tiny House (Published June 15, 2017)

Making Noyaux (French Bitter Almond Extract from Stone fruit pits) Published August 7, 2017)

Sweet & Spicy Pickles (Published July 21, 2017

Classic Canned Peaches (Published August 6, 2018)

Ricotta from Powdered Milk (Published Aug 5, 2017)