I am finally a legal citizen! Yes, after only three months, I have had my fingerprints and eye scan taken by a soldier at the Questura (who oddly enough, resembled my Uncle Dean when he went off to Ranger's Training). In two more weeks, I will have the document which states that I am legally in Italy.
Which is a good thing, since my husband's company has asked us to stay for another year.
I have gone back and forth in my head, do I want to stay? Do I want to go home? I have a lovely home and wonderful friends in Pittsburgh. Pittsburgh winters are awful (over 6 feet of snow this last winter) and Italy offers us so many chances to travel and see the world. I hate Pasta. I am also not a big fan of Pierogies or french fries on my Chef Salad. What to do? What to do!
I think we are staying.
Bill is finally comfortable with his job, language barriers aside, and he has been given the opportunity to take his company in a new direction. He really hated - and I really hated - his last company. And with the economy (and especially construction) the way it is, quitting and going somewhere else is not an option.
Gas bills aside, we have really enjoyed our time here. Although Bill still hasn't seen the Coliseum, we have seen Fregene, Grotta Frerrota, Bracciano (Helena), the major Basilicas (though only I haven't seen St. Peter's), cathedrals, fountains, art, history...things I will never see in Pittsburgh. (I have found the oldest bridge in Allegheny County, though. Don't try to drive on it. It is scary!)
I worry about my family. So much has happened since we came to Italy that I really regret not being home for.
My children, Helena more than the boys, miss being at home with their playmates in their old school.
But, as we noticed when we went home last, it's almost like having two different lives. When we are in Pittsburgh, we desperately want to stay: the American food, the ease of life, the friends, the family, the language. Everything seems so golden and irreplaceable that it is easy to pretend our Roman life of the past five months has not happened.
But back in Rome, we think we can hang in for a while longer and rejoin our American life when the job here is done. It is easy to be seduced by the art and buildings and gelato, and time spent basking in the sun on the terrace (yes, it's really rough!) that it becomes hard to remember there is a home in Pittsburgh that has horrible winters and lovely friends and family everywhere else who misses us.
So here is an open invitation to family and friends (Sorry Honey!): Come visit! We miss you! We want to see you! I will willingly make my children camp in the playroom in sleeping bags to have you come over.
And YOU know who YOU are (if I haven't called you in six months, please don't come. No offense, but if I didn't feel the need to tell you in person or over the phone or email that I was leaving America, then I don't feel the need to dry your laundry on the radiators for a week!)!
I may change my mind again. I'll keep everyone posted.
