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ItalyExpatLivingAndWorking: Living and working in Italy after Brexit, what you...

ItalyExpatLivingAndWorking: Living and working in Italy after Brexit, what you...: One of the things that my family and friends visiting in Italy often ask me is what will it be like living in Italy after Brexit , ...

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Summer holiday on the island of Ischia italy

Evenings that now last until 10pm. Bliss! The good life al' Italia. We can now sit up on the lake shore on those long evenings and watch the pinky sky as evening closes in.
Its time to start thinking of that Italian obsession - getting away to the sea. As soon as spring releases us from winter, that is the talk of every meeting, every gathering. Where to go?
I call to mind our recent summer holiday on the island of Ischia close to Capri.
The metro jolts to a stop, you both peer out and see the sign, and so climb down into the intense light and humid air of the platform. You go down the stone stairs and walk down to the port, through a town grown shabby at the edges, but charming all the same. You sit on some stone steps while you await the next boat, the waves climb the stairs and lick at your toes, washing way any trace of Milano. Amante sits behind you stroking your hair, as you point out the islands on the pale blue morning sea “Can you also see Sorrento and Capri from here, is that it?” 
You get onto your big boat when it arrives with all the others escaping the mainland for the day or weekend. The ferry noses its way out of the bay and heads for deeper waters, spray leaping up the sides of the boat and blowing in the wind, as the cliffs of the mainland are left behind.
You settle near the rails on the boat, the wind playing in your hair, in front of you there’s a large group of Italians and in the middle of them there is a guitar player. They sing traditional songs probably learnt in childhood. Amante knows some of the words and sings softly along with them, you watch the cliffs which are full of caves.
The island is before you. You disembark in a small colourful port set in gentle basin with boats that look like toys floating on it. The flat Mediterranean sea, no crashing waves, the whole scene is suffused with that smell of sea and sun. The breeze carries something of Africa, that hot dry earth smell. While all around exotic plants, palms and lush foliage grow. It’s a mix of all the exotic locations, part Greece, part bleak Cyprus, lush Africa, the lemon trees of Sicily, a ridge of mountain hidden behind wispy clouds with white houses built on the lower slopes like Cape Town. It seems like another country although it’s in Italy, and it is, it’s Ischia! Nature doesn’t respect borders.
You take a long walk, to your agriturismo, thankful you packed light. Climbing endlessly up a winding road through vineyards and lemon groves, with a sea of three shades, indigo, azure and turquoise surrounding you. After an hour, the road seems to wind on forever with the sun beating down on your head, and so you climb on a bus heading in that direction since they all circle the island. When the driver tells you to get out, you clamber off, and immediately there’s the traffic and noise, cars and motorbikes racing around the ring-road again. You leave the main road and start walking up a track that heads up the mountain. Apparently the agriturismo is one and a half kilometres further up, the path is walled in on one side by a pumice stone wall, and then you stumble upon a farm-like sort of gate. You go through it, and walk like trespassers through a vineyard and an orchard of very low lemon trees which give a lovely lattice of shade from the sun. You still haven’t seen a sign and aren’t really sure if you are on the right track. The track then goes around some very gnarled olive trees. Suddenly there are some buildings ahead and a fierce dog rushes out at you, it’s a pastore abruzzese, a huge white breed you know well from Tuscan farms. A breed of dog dedicated to protection, so you both stand like chess pieces waiting for him to make the first move, trying not to flinch too obviously when he rushes at you. Amante makes calming, friendly noises but it doesn’t soften him up. After ten minutes of his ferocious barking, a cleaner comes out with her broom and mops and chases him off. Slightly shaken, you ask if there is anyone home because you need a cold beer, and she points upstairs to the terrace.
Upstairs is a large sun-washed patio with four tables set for lunch, looking out over sea and mountain, it’s glorious. You set down your bag and a couple come out to greet you and give you an icy beer, and then a hand-written menu which says they serve a cold plate of salumi or bruschetta. You order both, and then stretch out your post-winter legs in the spring sunshine, and there isn’t a thing to worry about, so you drink in the fresh air and views. The dog has done his job and now lies snoring in the sun.
On either side of you, two German couples arrive to do the same, you listen to the strange words and understand only that the beer meets their approval. The hosts have already told you that Germans make up the majority of visitors at this time of the year, they are certainly quieter than Italians as they too set about soaking up the sun.
Your lunch arrives, and like all real Italian specialities, the secret of a good bruschetta lies in the quality of the ingredients. Large slices of toasted home-baked bread, perfect sweet plum tomatoes, new virgin olive oil, garlic and some fresh oregano, perfection.
It’s time to take a walk to the sea, where people say hot thermal springs bubble up on the beach in the rock pools, producing a natural spa. On the other side of the island this has been made more commercial, but here apparently the bollente, or boiling water, is open to all.
When you finally get down the millions of stairs with aching knees, you arrive at a rather empty pebble beach. There’s a small wooden restaurant perched above halfway up the cliff, with a deck. You de-robe and climb into the shallows which contain rock pools, natural Jacuzzis if you like, where the water comes boiling and bubbling up from the sea bed. You are enveloped by the slightly sulphurous smell, and are joined by assorted northern Europeans of advanced years, bathing their arthritic limbs, and oohing and aahing as a jet of unexpectedly boiling water scalds their ample behinds. Not an Italian to be seen, other than Amante that is, who now, rather uncharacteristically for an Italian, sets out on an epic swim right out into the sea in frigid water. It’s still early spring after all. 
When he returns and jumps back into the steaming pool, the Germans and Dutch are impressed and they tell him so. You are impressed and you tell him so, while the assorted women admiringly take in his muscled body. “Strong man, like a beer” (sic) they say. He laughs, you have never seen him as a bear, he is not chubby enough, perhaps it’s because he’s quite hairy. 
Eventually you have enough of the hot puddle and you go exploring. Riding on Amante’s back into the icy sea, you go to investigate a cave the sea has carved into the rock. As he pulls you along, you tell him that he really must look like a polar bear right now with its cub on its back.
The cave is smooth soft rock, and the size of the average bathroom. You are alone in it, all over the floor of the cave are tiny holes through which a hot jet erupts when you least expect it. You lay around entwined in each other’s arms. It’s like a scene from one of those black and white films from the sixties, a ‘Roman Holiday’ kind of film. The tension from travelling is stripped away, and you seem to float along carried by steam rather than water. You start to talk about living in this cave. This could be your permanent bathroom, your own sauna. You love bathing and Amante watches with pleasure as you revel in it, he knows how many hours you spend soaking in a bath. “Bello.” he says with a sigh. “Over there should be our kitchen with boiling water, then catch some fish and eat very well, and when you are tired of fishing, you go climbing up the hill for some buona bruschetta e birra”. “Do you agree?” he asks. You agree. Your limbs feel as if they are pieces of string, not the heavy tired legs you brought down those thousand steps with you. In a small pool in your cave home, a tiny crab and a shrimp have set up home, the odd couple. The water is cool in their pool, there is no steam vent in there to cook them. At the front of the cave where you sit side by side dipping your toes into the sea, you have a lovely view out of the cave right across the bay. “Even winter would be a breeze here with built in heating,” I say.

A tourist again in Como

I am enormously indebted to my Italian family and friends for releasing the real Italy to me to examine, dissect, accept and finally call my own. I feel immensely privileged to have gone backstage in Italian life. I make no apologies for the romanticism of some posts, and acerbic observations in others, for as Henry James said; “Italy is mostly an emotion”, and this blog has both kinds.
I recently started being a tourist in my own town again and the province of Como is not a bad place to do that in , blessed as it is with such beauty and wonderful little villages that dot the shore line on a 70km glacial lake that's blue and clean to swim in. Well, I swim in it, some are too scared of lake monster.
Recently we had a romantic weekend up near Tremezzo where at the Tremezzo grand hotel life seems to have stopped in the 19th century and they serve G and Ts, Testarossas and other wonderful cocktails and food on a terrace that overlooks the entire ampitheatre of mountains and lake. It's five star bliss in the proper imperial way. Nearby is Villa Carlotta, and villa Balbianello at Lenno where James Bond and other movies have been made. We shared the hotel with all the guests and sponsors coming to the F1 grand prix at Monza.

Living Italy the good the bad and the plain old ugly

It seems every now and then those of us who have chosen to live and work in Italy, come up against another fledgling who has fallen out of their tree.
Italy can do this to you, sometimes on a daily basis. I purposefully exclude those who were able to come to Italy, buy a villa in Tuscany, tinker with growing vines and olives and then flit back home every now and then to keep a foot in the door in the old country. I am bold enough to say "If you don't work for someone else in Italy and ride trains you don't really know Italy".
For you its paradise, villa owners, no one will chase you for tax payments in Italy or expect you to wait in line at a state hospital to see a specialist, so you can spend a little of the the 42% tax you pay to the government. You will never know what it feels like to wonder if you can fill your own teeth, with that metal resin stuff that bonds in seconds, because you can't afford to go to the dentist( believe me I've considered this).
So what about those of us who work at those lowly paid jobs in Italy, us graduates who somehow found ourselves hawking our madre linqua as our means of income, what of us, what is Italy like for us?
A love-hate relationship, an addiction?
My last post was about being a tourist again for a day. Try it, it may work for you.
But generally, as your stumble back home from the sweaty train where you couldn't get a seat and switch on the news while you cook the pasta, only to hear the same old, same old Belusconi or calcio, ( the content of 99,9999% of T.V.), droning on, you wonder what the .... am I doing here.

I can give you a list of the good now.
Gelato (nothing like it)
Being pregnant (everyone will treat you like the virgin Mary).
I'm too scared to ride on a train after a big lunch for fear of a man insisting I take his seat because I'm pregnant. I wanted to shout "I'm not bloody pregnant Ok!". but I took the seat in silence, all grateful and coy.
Being chased by Italian men (whatever your age)
Italian mamas. they iron his shirts so well, you'll never be able to compete, so why try?
Homemade tiramisu and pannacotta!
Almost all the food you'll find in any small hilltown in Liguria, Tuscany, Umbria, or where-ever. the slow food movement is alive and well!
The art, free art! that's why I came and that's why I stay.

Living and working in Italy after Brexit, what you need to know

One of the things that my family and friends visiting in Italy often ask me is what will it be like living in Italy after Brexit, since I've been living here since 2002.
So here goes.....
Since the UK decided to remove itself  from the EU, those of us on an UK passport have been wondering what the next two years will be like and indeed weather the years following the exit will be difficult for Expats.
The truth is that nobody really knows until Britain finally declares its hand clearly and since Corona virus hit in Febuary 2020 thats been the government's primary focus. 
What we do know is this:

AT PRESENT: 
*When a person on a UK passport passes through any EU passport, you wave your burgundy covered passport and they take a cursory look at the photo page and the expiry, and wave you through.

* You are also entitled to freedom of movement, which means you can go to any of the EU countries, register for a tax code and residence and register for the Health service card and be entitled to live and work in that country, *providing you can find a job of course ( But more about that later)

* As a UK citizen you are part of that system, which is why 75,000 young Italians are living and working in London alone  UK with full access to  the NHS. ( The real number of Italians living in UK is said to be over a million, No records of registration were kept.
 no questions asked. ( UK HAS NO ID CARD AS YET).
* Italy on the other hand, requires you as a foreigner to get a codice fiscale if you come here on a UK passport and to register at the anagrafe, municipality, and to get an ID BOOK. Subsequently, you'll receive access to the state health service.
before the Prodi government Italy required even EU citizens to get a permesso, then they woke up to the fact that they were part of the EU and that they had to give reciprocal rights to EU citizens and did away with that system. Hence the very discriminatory words you will hear all the time in Italy. *Communitari and ex-Communitari .

*Communitari means EU.

*EX Communitari refers to all the countries outside of the European Community. i.e. USA, Australia, Canada, South Africa  etc. ( but more usually is used as a term of discrimination about African and Arab countries, and in particular, those who come illegally by boat).

It's very clear that having an EU passport has huge advantages, and that the residence or study   permits that many people get to come to Italy from outside Europe are not easy to get.
This has put a huge burden on the state to control marriages of convenience for those who want to marry an Italian just to get the Burgundy passport.

 Recently getting Italian citizenship which was automatic in the past on marriage, is not the same. The waiting period is two years for EU citizens upon marriage to an Italian, and five years for non Europeans. Getting married in Italy as a resident is no picnic either, I did it. ( I will do a  follow up post on that too)
Citizenship can be applied for without marriage to an Italian after five years of continual legal residence for Europeans( quite rare that a European would take up Italian Citizenship and relinquish their own), or 10 years continuous legal residence for non-Europeans. UK citizens who wish to take dual citizenship and are not married to Italians, will now have to wait the required 10 years of residence since they are no longer EU. 
Getting citizenship is a long and winding process and expensive too, requiring an Italain language test  and  recent police reports from all the countries lived in and all birth and other documents to be translated.

I will do a follow up post on Citizenship another time.

AFTER BREXIT:  

*Will all the  tens of thousands young people from Italy be allowed to stay there and get full state benefits and full state  health cover? The British Government assures us it wont kick out EU residents presently resident there. But when does that date start, At the declaration of Article or in  Dec 2020 when UK officially  leaves?
  Will this prompt a mass exodus of European people who always wanted to live in UK and realise they have to get in before the cut off.
*Britain hopes to bring in limits on claiming state health benefits, and has already made moves to implement this. This means that the present form that all Europeans carry with them entitling them to full state medical cover in UK will fall away. Including those with British citizenship resident in Italy of course.
*Will this mean that those EU citizens resident in Italy at present, said to number 800,000 be entitled to stay here, under this new reciprocal agreement after Brexit, certain rights are to be guaranteed under the new comune registation for long time UK residents in Italy.
*Will they be entitled to  state medical cover as residents here in Italy if Britain does not give the same cover to Italian Citizens living in Britain?

At present nobody knows the answer to these crucial questions. We have waiting and hoping.
There are four choices facing those who have lived here over ten years.

* Go back home

*Get Italian Citizenship ( takes some years, and proof of income is required)

* Go and live somewhere else (not so easy once over 50, other countries are not so keen on taking on people unlikely to find work)

*Hang on and see what happens, when the withdrawal agreement kicks in in December 2020

Which choice have you made? Leave us a comment  and if you haven't made a choice yet,  leave us a comment with the questions you want to ask about your future here in Italy.

Copyright 2020  A.J. Reiss,  Image copyright Bigpressphoto.

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