I could use some encouragement today. Or maybe not. Maybe what I need is a good ‘ol Scarlett O’Hara slap in the face. In a Carol Burnett kind of way. A reality check. Not too rough. Funny, if possible. And none-the-less potent.
Seriously, I could use some feedback.
I finally got into the Italian Consulate appointment calendar this morning! Really? Yes! YES!! The disbelief kicked into urgent action. I’m in! There’s an appointment available! I must grab it now before someone else does!
Then the clicks through each calendar page. All red all red all red all red until finally one green. Only one green “open” day. . .
March 5, 2026. Exactly the day I intend (hope, inshallah) to be on a plane heading back to Sicily. If I took that appointment, I wouldn’t be able to travel at all next spring because the Consulate takes your passport, and then has 90 days to return it.
So, did I book this? No.
I had a dream during an afternoon nap recently where I was in Europe (Italy?). Having stepped off the curb, I was on the street, a stone street like so many are here. It was dark and I couldn’t see. Not because it was dark, but because I couldn’t open my eyes more than a crack. I kept tilting my head up to change the line of vision, but with no luck, it wasn’t working. I stumbled and fell. A woman called an ambulance for me. No no no, I didn’t want that. I wasn’t hurt. No. Think of the cost! Though a part of me wondered if there would be a cost, and if so, surely not as high as in the U.S. Still…
Instead I walked quickly in the other direction. Desperately trying to get my eyelids to cooperate. Lucid enough to know I as dreaming. Willing to wake up, if that’s what it took, and I could not. (Folks, this was a 2.5 hr nap. Clearly, I was tired or I was doing some deep psychic processing.)
Okay, I get it: I’m in Sicily and I can’t see clearly. I’m stumbling. Exhausted. I’m unable to see what’s in front of me.
Maybe, maybe, moving to Sicily is not meant to be. Five years of hoping, praying, planning. Three years of owning a home. And now?
It was still early when I wrote all that. Needing a pick-me-up, I went in search of freshly baked panettone. I had already struck out at my local panetterie and pasticerrie (bakeries and pastry shops). This morning was truly a quest. Armed with research and relying on technology, I set off.
Google maps brought me to a closed road, where work was being done and I could not pass.
Then it refused to give me an alternative route. So, I drove down a road I didn’t know. A scenic road, lined with olive trees. Maybe this is the lesson, I thought: to get off the road, to go around, not follow the rules. Maybe like the gate I had passed earlier, the obstacle was only an illusion.
Almost as soon as that thought crossed my mind, I came to a dead end. Suddenly. Abruptly. Olive trees still on both sides and now in front of me as well. An open gate on my right, but the road dropped there and I couldn’t trust my little rental car to maneuver it without damage. A three-point turn was more like eight. Slowly, carefully… I was going back the way I came.
When I returned to the fork in the road, having taken the dead-end path, I noticed to my left that there had been signs. Signs announcing the road up ahead would be closed. Very clear signs. Signs I had driven by without noticing.
What other signs am I not seeing?
Why are my eyes barely open? Why can’t I open them more?
What do I do next?
In the end, all my research was three strikes. Then, finding myself near another favorite “bar” (café & pastry shop), I stopped in and was greeted with HUGE panettone. Success! No, the woman said, they don’t make small ones. What else could I do? I bought a big one. For me. Just for me.
Jim Gaffigan has a funny bit about cake. He says if you eat a whole pizza, people will say, “wow, you were hungry!” But if you eat a whole cake, folks will say you’ve got a problem.
I expect to eat the entire cake. Alone. Over a few days. Breakfast here is always something sweet. And then there’s dessert. And an afternoon treat. Look, I have no interest in drinking. Just eating. Panettone.
Before leaving the States this time, I reached out to our Italian tax attorney. (In Italy, you don’t pay property tax on your primary home if you’re a resident or citizen. Since our primary home is in Idaho and we are not Italian residents, we pay about 600 euros twice a year.)
My question, I thought, was relatively straight forward: How much would we pay in Italian income taxes (all passive income) each year, if I live in Italy and Tom does not, but we file jointly in the U.S.?
My thinking was this: Maybe I’m going about this all wrong. Maybe things aren’t falling in place because we simply won’t be able to afford me living here. Maybe the taxes will be too high. Maybe not getting an appointment is the universe’s way of slowing me down to do more research, before I get into something that is difficult to reverse and at a very high cost. (Yes, I know, we already own a home … and I have no intention of selling)
The attorney responded that he might be able to help me with the Consulate appointment. Really??? Wow! Maybe Italian attorneys and Italian businesses who help Americans move abroad are given first access to appointments for their clients!
Ummm… no. What he can do is send a “formal notice” to the Consulate that shows I have been “attempting to contact them.” Then, if the Consulate does not respond to this, it may constitute a “failure to act” and we can proceed with a legal appeal. For this, I will need proof of my attempts to contact the Consulate – “screenshots or email records”.
Wellllll….. I have no emails because you can’t email the Consulate. You can ONLY go through their appointment system. And screenshots, such as the one below, shows a date, time, and message that there are no appointments available, but it doesn’t show what kind of appointment I’m trying to get.
Wait… isn’t he supposed to know how this works?
For a short time, I thought maybe I would pay the 1200 euro fee for his help. That seems to be the going price. This includes a review of all things relating to taxes and assistance with all legal compliance necessary. As well as a review of my application, assuring I had the strongest case possible. I thought maybe I needed to take an extraordinary step, outside of my norm. You know, maybe walk around the fence or have someone else open it for me? But that’s when I also thought he could open the fence for me. So no, probably not.
Meanwhile, I’m still waiting to see if I have an appointment with him re: income taxes. I have just three days in Rome next week before returning to the States. I said I’d pay for his time. I’d bring our tax returns, whatever is needed. Aaaaannnddd… ? nothing. no word.
There is a LOT of waiting that happens in Italy. I thought I was okay with that. I thought I could roll with it. But maybe I’m not and maybe I can’t. Maybe, maybe, I no longer know.
The electrician that I was so happy with in the spring was supposed to fix two outside lights while I was here this time. Not a big deal, he said. But when he came by last week, he wasn’t prepared and couldn’t do it. This week? Yes, sure. Until a few hours ago when he texted, no, no, it will have to wait.
So what do you think? Am I ignoring messages or just being tested?
What am I not seeing?
Help me open my eyes.
Jan, brava to you for being open to the questions bubbling up and present to the uncertainties. I get the sense that you are doing exactly what you should be doing: learning to be ok with NOT knowing the outcome (aka, faith), because let’s face it, none of us ever really know even though we like to think that plan=certainty. The gift is the experience of being able to drive around and meeting both the annoying and delightful unexpected things along the way: the gate without a fence, the signs you didn’t see the first time, the road block and know-it-all google NOT having a quick and convenient answer, and (hallelujah!) a very large panettone. To say nothing of all the people with whom you’ve just shared your story and who got to spend a bit of their day with you, careening around the back roads Sicily looking for … well, what it was no longer really matters. 🙏🏽💛 Thank you!
I'm a big believer that unexpected speed bumps are a message to slow down and check your work and be sure this is the route you want. AND With that said sometimes a hiccup is just a hiccup -- a screwy technological misfire, and an appointment solution will become clearer in a way you cannot yet foresee.
I think either way, is is clear you've already put in a TON of consideration and thought into all of this, and this night just be a moment to not fight so hard -- know that you have ALREADY put in all the right time and effort and planning you need to, and the things WILL happen at the pace and time that is right. I hope that doesn't sound too dippy!