How to become a working girl in Milano

In the previous posts I have described some aspects of my moving to Milano: the paperwork to get a permesso di soggiorno, the (for me relatively few) hours of waiting in line, Italian corruption, the advantages of being a teacher of English and of course our gorgeous new casa. This means I have almost finished telling about my experiences in Italy up to now except for my job hunt. So, if you're interested in a short lesson 'how to become a working girl in Milano', read on!

I started sending out CV's in May, when I was still living in Holland. As writing and constructing a CV truly is a science worthy of its own university professor and I didn't know shit about it back then, I obviously did not receive any response to those. This depressed me a lot, because I had hoped to have a job before I took the big step and was sort of counting on that. However, after some experiences in the CV writing process and the making of the necessary changes, I emailed my first CV's worthy of an answer in late July and early August. However, as the complete city of Milano shuts down for the summer during August, I still did not get any replies. This made my stay in Milano quite the holiday for the first few weeks. Olaf and I hadn't seen each other for five of six weeks, so we were really happy about having the possibility to spend a lot of time together. I went to several hotels to ask for a job and sent out some more CV's, but obviously this wasn't a full-time job. This meant I read a lot, got a tan, visited all the sights and cuddled a lot with Olaf. We also went to Rome for a few days, which was as great as it sounds and made me - being a classical scholar - feel like heaven for a short time (for pictures, see Olaf's weblog).

A few days before we were leaving for Holland for my graduation ceremony and goodbye party I had my first interview for a job teaching English. I was very nervous, miscalculated the distance I had to go, had to run the last hundreds of meters and consequently arrived as wet as our kitchen after I've done the dishes. Fortunately, the man conducting the interview wasn't Italian but British, which meant appearances were not as important as they could have been. On the whole, it went quite well and he was very positive and said he would call me in September. I didn't really believe that I would get the job and it wasn't the greatest job imaginable, but it did make me see a light at the end of the tunnel (as I had been pretty much convinced nobody was going to hire me because of my lack of experience) and motivated me to continue my search.

We were in Holland for a week at the end of August and had a great time. We visited loads of friends and family, drank far too much and had some great parties - among which of course my graduation and goodbye party, which rocked!!! All of you who were there, thank you so much for being there, it was great! I may not have had the time to talk to every single one of you as long as I wanted, but it certainly was great seeing you all. During this week I received one phone call and two emails from Milano inviting me for job interviews - all for jobs teaching English - with three different companies. When it was time to return to Milano, Olaf and my father drove Olaf's father's van to bring all our stuff and I flew back. Afterwards, we spent a great weekend getting all our shit - and boy, we've got a lot of things - in order and celebrating our first visitor (my father). Thanks again, Theo, for all your help, we really couldn't have done it without you!! I was really happy and proud to be able to show my father my new city and we had a lot of fun, great meals, lovely wines and beers and some good talks.

My father left early on Monday morning and then it was immediately time for me to get to work, as I had two job interviews that day. These interviews were at two different schools: The English Academy and Corporate English. Incredibly but true, both schools hired me and I started teaching trial lessons for The English Academy the next day. On Wednesday I had my third interview, at CTL (Cinque Terre Lingue), and I was hired again. I now found myself in the fortunately relaxing position of having too many jobs and being able to choose which schools I wanted to work for. I made my choice based partly on a gut feeling and partly on my previous experiences. The English Academy was a very good and respected school and paid very well, but they were quite formal and believed in a kind of full-immersion approach for new teachers. I didn't get any training or feedback, but they just put me in front of a class and said 'teach, become confident and learn from your own mistakes'. On the other hand, my job interviews with Corporate English and CTL were not only successful but also fun. I just felt at home with both of them and so I decided to quit working for The English Academy. The company I had my first interview with in August also called me recently, so in the end I was actually hired by four schools. And I hadn't actually made that much of an effort!!!

Since then, I have attended teacher training sessions, have observed lessons and have been brushing up on my knowledge of English grammar. Two weeks ago, I started teaching my first lessons at Corporate English and next week I will teach my first lessons for CTL. I don't have that many hours of teaching a week yet, but I'm hoping this will increase next month. I suppose it's a good thing to start off slowly, but I'm going crazy because I haven't been very productive for almost three months now. This is starting to get on my nerves and I'm ready for one of more new projects (I really hate doing nothing, boredom is the greatest evil in this world). I still have to learn a lot about teaching, but I think it is going quite well. And what better way to learn than to actually do it, eh?

Working is also a very good way of meeting new people. Not the students of course, I need to keep my relationship with them professional, but I'm talking about my colleagues. I met a very cool, nice and certifiably crazy woman from South Africa (just the way I like my friends) called Belinda, who is just starting with Corporate English just like me. We hit it off quite well when we had teacher training together. Everybody at Corporate English is really cool, by the way. Yesterday evening I went to my first (bi-)monthly teacher meeting. The schools organizes these evenings to exchange information and stimulate the contact between the school and the teachers and between the individual teachers. After this we went out for a pizza and some drinks, completely paid for by the school. Afterwards we went dancing and it ended up becoming a great but late night filled with music, cocktails, beers, drunk people, live music, playing rugby with women instead of rugby balls and many, many laughs. Consequently, I'm quite happy with my job situation. I'd just like to have some more work to do. But all in good time...

Ciao, Fedor

Some more casa nostra...

And here are some more pictures from our casa:

Our bathroom where we spend hours and hours every day to do our hair...

The living room
The living room from the other side

And finally the lovely view from our window: the beautiful but at ungodly hours extremely loud and irritating church of the Holy Canal Mary (Chiesa di Santa Maria al Naviglio)

If you want to see more, I am afraid you're going to have to visit me at some point. And you know what? If you do, you can not only see my house, but you can also see me! How does that sound? ;-)

Ciao, Fedor

Casa nostra

This post is about our new apartment. It's not very big but very beautiful, recently renovated and cozy. It's exactly the right place to be 'burgerlijk', like we are - there is absolutely no way to translate this Dutch word into English without having to describe it by a complete sentence, like 'gezellig'. To clarify its meaning in English it literally means 'civilian', as it does in Dutch, but in this the following meaning is implied: 'dull and uninteresting, the way couples and families get when they settle and get a very regulated life'. And I love it!

Anyway, I promised to post something about our casa and, as actions speak louder than words, here are a few photographs:

The little door

The view from inside our courtyardThe gallery with its typically Milanese railings
The dining room
The dining room from the other side with the mezzanine where we sleep
The petite kitchen

In the beginning was the blog!

So, after this incredibly planned and polished opening post it is now time to get to work. 'In the beginning was the was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God. He was with God in the beginning' (Gospel of 'John' 1:1-2), and write that god I shall. This blog is about me, about my experiences in the world and, more specifically, in Milan, Italy. The language I write in is English, because, although I'm settling quite well in this country, I'm still getting used to the change of language. As I am as of now a teacher of English and as my English is still a bit rusty, filling this blog with my daily experiences and everything that I ponder is good practice. And additionally, I must admit that I also find the increase of possible readers quite exciting. However, I have this misplaced pretentious notion of my own literary prowess which will most probably make this blog one of the most unreadable ones on the web. But hey, as long as I'm having fun, eh?

The first subject I should write about is of course Italy, about how I like the country and the Italian people. It would be a mistake to start with the usual bitching foreigners living in Italy habitually express, because starting off with negative statements isn't very attractive nor is it particularly appropriate or true in my case. Besides, I haven't lived in this country long enough to be able to prioritize the most rewarding bitch subjects. No, my first experiences with Italian weather, food, people, law, and the completely ineffective way of government and administration have on the whole been very good. All the excruciatingly painful and time-consuming steps of going through the process of getting the necessary paperwork done in order to become a resident, find a job and get insurance - which I know have driven other people insane because of the inefficiency and unfairness of the system - have not been major problems for me. Ergo, I have no problem with the Italian system.

It took me only two hours to get a codice fiscale (something like a social security number but not completely the same), less than three hours to obtain my permesso di soggiorno (residence permit), less than a day to find a job and less than half an hour to get health insurance. 'And why would it take more time and effort? This already seems like quite a hassle', you might ask and would be right in doing so since I moved here from Holland which is an EU country just like Italy. You would be wrong, however, to assume that it is always this easy. Getting your codice fiscale means getting up at an ungodly hour to get in line outside the Agenzia dell'Entrata (Agency of Entrance), waiting a long time before the office actually opens, getting in line to get a form and a ticket and then waiting for hours and hours until it is finally your turn and you get your codice. This should take the better part of a day. However, I was there in August and since there is no one in Milan in August, I was very lucky. With your codice fiscale you can start looking for a job. Looking, not actually getting one yet. Because as long as you don't have a permesso di soggiorno, you are not allowed to work - and as long as you don't have a job, you don't get a permesso di soggiorno.

However, being a teacher of English does have its advantages. There appears to be an enormous shortage of English teachers in Milano, because everywhere I applied I was hired instantly, even though I'm not a qualified teacher at all. But I will discuss my new employment in a later post. What is important is that you can get a permesso di soggiorno with a declaration from your future employer stating that they will hire you as soon as the government gives you your permesso. However, this is usually not all you need. You may need to show that you have health insurance in the country you come from, that you have enough means of support (copy of your creditcard), the receipt from the booking of the hotel room you stayed in the very first night you were here, a statement from your regular baker that you really are one of his customers, a T-shirt with the text 'I *heart* the pope' printed on it, that you know all the words of the translation of the Italian anthem in Venetian dialect or a certificate proving that you are related to the neighbour of the sister of the grandmother of the family doctor of the regular grocer of the intimate friend of the brother of the assistant of the caretaker of Berlusconi's cat. Fortunately, I didn't need any of those things, but my passport, codice fiscale, declaration from my future employer and some photographs were quite enough to get me a permesso for the period of five years.

Five years? Most people just get one for one year - or maybe two - but never five, not the very first time. Everybody else has to go back to get his permesso renewed every year, but not me. This is a very effective action of the Italian government, because not only do I save time and effort by not having to come back every year but I was also done in under three hours. This is quite remarkable, since the experience at the questura (police station) where one gets one's permesso is like the one at the Agenzia dell'Entrata. Except that it is supposed to be much, much worse. On average, it takes about two days to get your permesso, but people have been known to have to return five or more times (Olaf, for instance, has been to two different questura offices to try to get his permesso renewed (and waited in line there) and was finally told to come back in October). Unless of course if the man who owns the store where you buy your cigarettes is an acquaintance of a friend of a friend of a friend of a friend of a police offer, because in that case you can obviously get an appointment and don't have to stand in line.

With your permesso di soggiorno you can go to the Ufficio Communale, the local municipality, to register. This takes a few hours of filling out forms and waiting, but when it's your turn you come to the counter where the bored employee tells you everything is in order and that within a few weeks a police officer will come by your house to check whether or not you really live there. When the police officer has checked this and is satisfied that you do, you have to wait about three months until your carta d'identita (identity card) is ready with which you can get the free health insurance. Although the police officer hasn't come to my house yet and the three months have not even started yet, we decided to take our chances. I had absolutely no trouble registering for ASL (the free health insurance), even though I didn't have my carta d'identita yet.

So all is well and the paperwork almost done (I will have to go and pick up my carta d'identita at some point) and I am very happy about that. Next post will be about casa nostra and will have pictures! Ciao, Fe

And in the beginning god created the heavens and the earth...

Where to begin? When writing a theological text about the beginning of everything while trying to persuade your readers/listeners that the god you advocate is the one who set it all in motion, this is not a very hard thing to do. You simply start with the beginning of creation by your omnipresent and all-powerful god. But what when you're starting somewhere in the middle? You can't just start telling the things that happen to you, you have to create a beginning. In such a case one has to open with a bang, with a very beautiful description or a famous appropriate quote. However, it seems all the good ones have been taken.

It would be so easy if my life was a fairytale, because then I would be able to start with the sadly underestimated but in reality marvelously devised traditional opening sentence 'Once upon a time..' (or, as I am in Italy, 'C'era una volta...'). But my life is not a fairytale, fortunately, because then I would probably be a cliche and no one would bother reading what I have to say. So it's a good thing that my life is not a fairytale, but unfortunately this happy fact does not diminish my stress about finding an appropriate beginning.

I could start at my own beginning, 'To begin my life with the beginning of my life, I record that I was born (as I have been informed and believe)...' But to make matters worse, this has also been done before by no one less than the impressive and witty but sadly sometimes also dull, tedious and sleep-invoking Charles Dickens in his David Copperfield. As I have no wish to be accused of plagiarism nor have any intention of comparing myself with a widely recognized and admired literary genius, it would not be wise to publish here my own disgustingly imperfect version of one of his products of superb inspiration.

No, I am afraid I do not possess the skill and knowledge to think up a beautiful, singular, perfect, one-of-a-kind, wildly inspirational and inimitable beginning of my own. There is, however, one author who has written the perfect beginning appropriate for a story starting in medias res and that is Robert Jordan. Please ignore the references to the fictional history and geography of the story he is about to tell, but think about the notion that time is immeasurable and repetitive and that there are many beginnings. That is what tickled my fancy.

'The Wheel of Time turns, and Ages come and pass, leaving memories that become legend. Legend fades to myth, and even myth is long forgotten when the Age that gave it birth comes again. In one Age, called the Third Age by some, an Age yet to come, an Age long past, a wind rose in the Rhannon Hills. The wind was not the beginning. There are neither beginnings nor endings to the turning of the Wheel of Time. But it was a beginning.'