My UK driving licence has finally expired. The grubby bit of paper the Italians gave me as a substitute, has also expired. My bicycle has a flat tyre.
I was told not to worry, that the temporary substitute licence had expired, as it is normal in Italy and the police will accept it is just another Italian cock up. The important thing, I was told, is to have with you the medical form, that proves you are fit to drive.
That kind of says everything there is to know about Italy.
Do you have a valid driving licence? No
Do you have cervicale? mm maybe
Links to past driving licence fiasco
Parts 4 to 349 will follow over the next 5 months, groan
So I have just received a telephone call from Mr Cretino, the man who is supposed to be transferring my UK driving licence to an Italian one. To be honest I do not receive many calls on my Italian mobile, normally the caller is Mrs Sensible asking what sort of trouble I am about to or are in. Sometimes Vodafone or one of the other networks call to try and get me to swap carriers, but they give up as soon as they here…. Io sono inglese!!
This afternoon Mr Cretino called, so I asked Luagina the secretary at work to talk to him. The long and short of it is, when I married Mrs Sensible we hyphenated our surnames. It was all my fault I wanted to add her Italian surname to mine.
I am the proud owned of a mix of official documents, some in my birth surname and some in my adopted Italian hyphenated surname name. Mr Cretino is more than a little confused, as is his office.
As I type this, Mrs Sensible is trying to resolve the situation. I somehow have to prove I am both the pazzo inglese with the hyphenated name and also the pazzo inglese with the birth surname.
An update is sure to follow tomorrow.
Yesterday was my third visit to the motorizzazione, in my ongoing saga to convert my UK driving licence to an Italian Driving licence. At 5.30 I arrived at the office with Mrs Sensible in tow, she wouldn’t let me bring my sharpened fork.
Signore Cretino once again asked if he could take a photo copy of my driving licence, Italian identity card and my codice fiscale. Just for fun I also handed him my British Passport. This is the third set of copies he has taken. He must be building up an impressive file.
The first problem we hit was the name on my UK driving licence didn’t match the name on my British Passport or my Italian Identity card. Mrs Sensible explained, that in England it is possible to combine the surnames of the husband and wife when they marry. He wasn’t very impressed; I have to take my hat off to Mrs Sensible because she calmly explained that she was right and he would just have to accept the situation.
The next step was my medical. I had to visit the doctor who had an office next door, but way up on the fourth floor. By the time we had climbed the steps, I nearly needed a doctor to resuscitate me. We passed an old lady on the way up who was slowly climbing the stairs for her medical. She looked about 80 years old. When she finally entered the waiting room she looked 85 years old.
It is impossible for 20 Italians to sit in a waiting room and either sit quietly or to whisper to their partners. It took them about 3 nanoseconds to realise I was English.
Old Lady: “Your husband is English, Does he understand Italian?”
Mrs Sensible: “Yes he is English and no he doesn’t understand much”
Pecora Nera “I speaks Italian small small”
Old Lady “Ah! His Italian is very Good”
Mrs Sensible looked to heaven and I gave a huge grin.
Mrs Sensible then showed everyone in the doctors waiting room, my new driving licence photo. She used the following words as she handed my photo around e’ Brutto, e’ schifo.
The old lady laughed and showed her photo. A second lady who was sat across from us produced her driving licence. I would estimate her age somewhere between 65 and 70. Her photo showed a woman of 26 with a 1960s hairstyle.
Pecora Nera “ That doesn’t look like her, how can the police identify her? I mean she looks like her daughter or even her daughter’s daughter; but with a 1960s hairstyle”
Mrs Sensible “In Italy we don’t need to update our photo”
Pecora Nera “Madness, so you can be 85 and use a photo taken when you were 18?”
Pecora Nera “ I English I speaks Italian small small”
Doctor “Ok we speaks English, I speaks English little”
Pecora Nera “ Oh your English is so good, thank heavens you understand English”
I passed the medical and we went back to see Signore Cretino at the motorizzazione.
As we entered the office, the following conversation was taking place between a young man and Mr Cretino. Mrs Sensible quietly translated it for me, while I laughed into my hanky.
Young man: My driving licence was suspended by the Carabinieri. When the suspension was over I went back to the office to collect my licence. The Carabinieri in the office had lost it!! So I asked them what they intended to do about it.
Signore Certino: And?
Young man: The Carabinieri said “We won’t do anything, it is your problem. You need to sort it.”
So I asked how do I sort it, what do I need to do? The Carabinieri told me to come here and apply for a brand new driving licence. He said “take your documents and two photos.” I asked him if the photos will need authenticating, he said no, so here I am with the documents and the two photos.
Signore Cretino: You need to authenticate one of those photos; you need to go either to the Carabinieri or to the council.
Young man: But I have just come from the Carabinieri and they said it wasn’t necessary.
Mr Cretino: Well, they could have authenticated them, but they didn’t, so now you will have to go back to them and come back here tomorrow.
As regards to my driving licence, I am now in possession of a piece of paper with a sticker on it. This wonderful bit of paper is valid for 30 days and only valid in Italy.
3 steps forward and 5 steps backwards.
P.s Multifarious Meanderings is trying to get a French licence in France, go and read.
I have created a new page for this post because I know this is going to be a long and painful saga. I will update this as I jump, dodge and get blown up by the Italian minefield of bureaucracy.
Last summer I noticed that my driving licence would expire in May 2013. I searched on the internet whether, I could renew my licence with DVLC. Unfortunately this is not ‘legally possible’ because I do not live in the UK. I do have a house in the UK but someone is living in it. Further research seemed to imply that exchanging my UK licence for an Italian licence was easy. I would only need two photos, some money and a completed form. I should have known better, after all this is Italy, a country where I have been stopped for driving with a European UK driving licence.
The carabinieri who stopped me was not the brightest man alive, he tried to explain to Mrs Sensible that I, an Englishman was not allowed to drive in Italy with a Ukrainian driving licence. Mrs Sensible went straight into teacher mode and asked the poor carabinieri, (who was now asking himself why he had stupidly stopped me) when did the Ukraine joined the EU? Still pointing at the European flag on my licence, Mrs Sensible then explained to him, again in teacher style language, that the UK on my licence actually stood for United Kingdom, and no it did not need to have GB for Grand Britannia on it.
So here, we are fifty-eight days from my driving licence melting down; and I decide enough is enough. I asked Mrs Sensible to phone the local office that deals with driving licences and find out what documents I will need to take to the office and how much it take to change my licence.
OFFICE: Why does your husband want an Italian Driving Licence?
MRS SENSIBLE: Because his UK licence expires in May.
OFFICE: UK licences do not expire. Italy is going to change to licences like the UK one.
MRS SENSIBLE: My husbands licence expires on the 17th May 2013. it is clearly stated on the licence.
OFFICE: Really! Tell your husband to pop into the office this afternoon and we will sort it all out.
MRS SENSIBLE: Pecora, if you go to the office now they will sort it out for you… go now… go.
PECORA NERA: He hasn’t got a clue what he is talking about has he…. ALL RIGHT I am going.
Standing in the office the
idota stupido helpful man explained that, for a small sum of money he could stick a sticker on my UK driving licence that would make it valid for another 5 years.
Words failed me, both English and Italian words. I phoned Mrs Sensible and said ” I don’t need a sticker I need a new licence. Hertz car rental is not going to accept an Italian Sticker stuck on my driving licence as proof that it is now valid for another 5 years. Please explain this to this
helpful intelligent cretino. After Mrs Sensible had had a short telephone conversation with the man, the phone was passed back to me and I was told “He will have it all sorted tomorrow. You will need to call back tomorrow around four in the afternoon.
Tomorrow I will update part 2 after I have driven back to the office and had another discussion with Signor Cretino. Right now I am going to have a glass of wine.
We are up to our necks in snow, well almost up to our necks, maybe a little over our ankles if the truth be told. The snow that fell on Sunday is the cold wet type that freezes quickly, makes your fingers cold and the roads in Italy even more dangerous than they normally are.
On Midday Sunday the weather man warned that it would snow, the competition that Italy is running to find out if teachers like Mrs Sensible can have a proper contract was cancelled due to the forecast of heavy snow. Luigina and I looked at the beautiful blue sky and poo poohed them. Mrs Sensible washed the rugs and I hung them outside, they are still hanging there.
On Monday morning on the way to work, I managed to pirouet my little Mini on the roundabout, as the car slide and slewed towards the barriers, I could hear Mrs Sensible, she was somewhere deep in my head saying “I told you, you need to put snow tyres on your Mini” As I simultaneously asked God to stop the car from crashing and cursed the idiota who was trying to overtake my spinning car. I promised myself that I would change the tyres, immediately if not sooner.
God answered my little prayer, both my little Mini and I survived our little spin on the roundabout. At lunch time I changed the tyres on both my impractical, but fun Mini and Mrs Sensible’s small but practical and economic Peugeot.
It was still snowing on Monday night when I was driving home,
My house is on the right, if the council used our taxes to install street lights, you would be able to see it. Luiginas house is also on the right. On the left is the house where the bereaved German Shepard howls at night. The dog started howling after its mate died. The only time the dog doesn’t howl, is when Gilda, Luigina’s short but incredible fat sausage dog wanders down the road to bark at it.
One of these days the German Shepard will jump over the little garden fence and we will see how fast Gilda can actually run.
The snow effects everybody, even my hens are not very impressed, I opened the gate to let them out and they just glared at me.
Even after I walked back to check on Mrs Sensible’s rugs the hens hadn’t moved.
My little Mini was frozen solid. The doors wouldn’t open and the wipers were frozen to the windscreen.
This is what Italy should look like,
OK, admittedly this was taken on the beach, but you get the general idea. Roll on Summer.