My memories of living in Italy as a young adult are colored by the paperwork required to function in a society governed by so-called Civil Law. There is a pale reflection of that bureaucratic nightmare in the way the state of Louisiana is governed, by laws that some people in the US call "Napoleonic law." Napoleon brought Civil Law to many of the countries he invaded in the course of his career as World Dictator, and in my opinion he did none of them any favors. I much prefer the Napoleon-free Anglo Saxon version of government. You may think the Department of Motor Vehicles is a bureaucratic imposition but you have absolutely no idea what hell is, not when compared to the stamp duties and countersignatures required by the notorious gyrations of Civil Law. Try transferring title to a vehicle in Mexico to see what I mean. Napoleon's reach was exceeding wide, and don't forget his brother Maximillian governed Mexico just long enough to impose his crazy bureaucratic values there.
My sister asked me to get a notarized signature on a piece of paper to clean up some pending land transfers that my family had failed to sort out decades ago - some of them extend back to the Kingdom of Italy when Mussolini was in charge and my grandfather was alive and selling property. She worried that if we waited too long these pieces of land might never get proper title for their owners in Italy and she wanted to have the power to sign off on them on my behalf. A notion that pleased me greatly as I have absolutely no desire to spend time in notary's offices when I am on vacation. However that did mean I had to make the effort to go and visit the Italian Consulate in Miami to get the job done. This was something I dreaded.
I had similar experiences in San Francisco when I lived in California, traipsing an hour and a half north to spend hours sitting around a Nob Hill mansion waiting for some extra-territorial clerk to languidly sign off on my identity and slip me a very expensive piece of paper that I could mail back to my sister for her ongoing battles over our inherited family lands. Every visit reaffirmed in my mind my decision to abandon farming, land ownership and dealing in any way whatsoever with the curse of Civil Law Notaries.
The notary in the Consolate was actually a very nice middle aged lady who smiled sympathetically when I told her I had emigrated almost thirty years ago and barely remembered the rules regarding franking, signing and stamping. She smiled wearily and read the document my sister's notary had prepared. "Let's hope for the best" she said.
Speriamo bene...which is the approach one has to take with all Civil Law paperwork because none of the rules are linear and clear. Civil law takes the attitude that citizens are morons and not to be trusted and the State knows best; an attitude that would make any red blooded American boil with irritation. Getting irritated does no good; Civil Law government is not there to serve so patience is a requirement.
In the name of the Italian Republic, on this day, in Miami, etc...etc... Well, wasn't I surprised when Mrs Vilma had me signing the paper, had my signatures stamped and the fee paid, $55 dollars, cash only, and out of there in twenty five minutes, no muss, no fuss. Anglo-Saxon efficiency (!) and I had an hour and a half to go on the meter. I could hardly believe my luck. My head was spinning as I got in the car and tried to figure my way out of the maze of streets that is the Upper Class neighborhood of Coral Gables, wherein lies the Consulate.
My abiding memories of my sister are of a woman on the go, she carried a leather briefcase everywhere she went, a briefcase she still owns thirty years later, begging for interviews, pleading for consideration, signatures and patience. I compare that craziness with my recent ten minute trip to the DMV in Big Pine Key where my Florida driver's license was renewed for eight years, my photograph taken on the spot and my new document issued to me there and then. My wife has renewed by mail without even bothering to show up in the office, as she has plenty of lead time before her birthday in January. Such casualness with the Property of the State would be unthinkable in Italy. Happily I live in America.
It didn't take long for me to find my way through the extravagant suburbs of Coral Gables back to Florida's Turnpike and the road for home. Coral Gables is an exclusive place, the streets wind and twist in a most European way and street signs don't look like normal tinny signs seen elsewhere:
Italy is a great country to visit and I enjoy very much being a tourist, but daily living is just much more pleasant in the land of the free and home of the brave. I get annoyed sometimes when native born Americans assert the US is the best country in the world, because they really have no idea how good it is here. Sometimes I think the US is wasted on native born Americans, people who bitch and moan all the time about government interference and bureacuracy. I wouldn't wish Stamp Duties or Civil Law Notaries on my worst enemies. Hell will be an eternity of standing in line trying to line up the correct signatures on a piece of paper that has no relevance or meaning. I have come to deeply appreciate the value of customer service, and every time I leave this country I have to suck up all my reserves of patience as I remember what it takes to deal with surly clerks and disinterested public employees. Oh and there isn't much in the way of Mexican food in Italy either. But there is in Homestead:
I rewarded myself with lunch at Los Nopalitos on East Mowry Avenue; turn east at the Police Station on Krome Avenue in downtown Homestead. That's the yellow building barely visible in the photograph:
And for $6:80 I had lunch including a
Coca Light, gracias, and a pile of steaming hot corn tortillas:
A quick stop at Lowe's to justify driving the car to Miami, and I shoved an outdoor fireplace in the trunk, on sale for just over a hundred bucks. My wife had admired our friends Lisa and Jacques fireplace and I figured she'd like one of her own.
"Have a nice day," the Lowe's clerk said cheerfully and yes, I thought to myself I really will. Nice of you to say it, I wanted to reply but she would have thought I was weird, because she's never lived in Italy and doesn't know how comforting the phrase "Have a nice day" is, especially when it comes from a stranger.
My memories of living in Italy as a young adult are colored by the paperwork required to function in a society governed by so-called Civil Law. There is a pale reflection of that bureaucratic nightmare in the way the state of Louisiana is governed, by laws that some people in the US call "Napoleonic law." Napoleon brought Civil Law to many of the countries he invaded in the course of his career as World Dictator, and in my opinion he did none of them any favors. I much prefer the Napoleon-free Anglo Saxon version of government. You may think the Department of Motor Vehicles is a bureaucratic imposition but you have absolutely no idea what hell is, not when compared to the stamp duties and countersignatures required by the notorious gyrations of Civil Law. Try transferring title to a vehicle in Mexico to see what I mean. Napoleon's reach was exceeding wide, and don't forget his brother Maximillian governed Mexico just long enough to impose his crazy bureaucratic values there.