My favorite Italian dessert. Millefoglie, anyone?

Knocked Up Abroad

Posted in Culture, Expat Life, Featured by sexliesandnutella

Unlike the show, “Locked Up Abroad,” I can’t say I’ve ever been placed in a foreign jail – but I can chalk up “having a baby” to the list of things I never thought I’d be doing in a foreign country. And not only am I ecstatic to be having my first child, I’m actually grateful to be doing it here in Italy. After all, I’m about to become a sort of untouchable institution in this country: una mamma italiana.

Lately, I’ve been nesting like it’s my job – because technically, the Italian government has mandated that it is. Having reached the eight month mark, I’m no longer permitted by law to be working. In fact, I had to file a special request accompanied by a doctor’s certificate to stay in the office an extra thirty days, since the standard rule of leaving work actually kicks in at the completion of the seventh month of pregnancy. How ‘bout them cannolis?

Giving a bloated, anxious, sleep-deprived expectant mother the chance to relax and adequately prepare for one of the biggest events of her life, instead of working up until the day she gives birth: now there’s a novel idea.

In Italy, maternity leave lasts a total of five months, at full pay. Traditionally, these months are divided up into two before the due date, plus three after. Otherwise, as I’ve chosen, there’s the option of working an extra month before the due date then carrying that over for a total of four months of leave after the birth.

And it doesn’t end there:

Once you go back to work, you’re only required to be there for six hours a day – a little something called allatamento, or a nursing benefit. This reduced schedule is automatically extended to mothers until the child’s first birthday.

But wait, there’s more!

In addition to the standard five months, there’s also aspettativa, or an elective, additional leave of absence, paid at 30%. These available months total as many as twelve and can be used anytime – either all together, or split into days, weeks, or months. And get this: they don’t expire until the child is four years old. So if you need extra time (months or even years after your initial maternity leave) for whatever reason, you’re entitled to take it. Oh, and all of this is protected by law, meaning you obviously cannot be let go from your job for having taken advantage of these benefits.

All in all, not too shabby – and light years away from what we’re used to in the States.

Aside from the generous, kick-ass maternity laws, being in dolce attesa in Italy just seems a little sweeter in general. I’ve never had the experience of being pregnant in the States, so I may not be aware of the perks that exist at home. Whatever they are, though, they certainly aren’t as noticeable in daily life as they are here, or I’m sure I would’ve been aware of them at some point.

For example, all the major malls in Rome have special parking places next to the handicapped spots called posti rosa, which are reserved for pregnant women and recognizable by their pink painted lines and a sign like this one:

Welcome future mothers. We invite you to leave this spot available to expecting women. (Small writing) This request is not part of the street code (law), it’s an invitation to make a gesture of civility.

Of course, these spots are designed as part of an honor system, so who knows how many people don’t respect them. But hey, at least they exist.

Parking privileges are just the beginning. The pancione, or pregnant belly, elicits big smiles and “auguri” (congrats) from just about everyone I come in contact with. It comes along with quite a bit of unspoken respect and a certain sense of entitlement in public. I notice that older women especially take an extra second to lock eyes and give me a wink as they pass by, as if I’ve entered into some kind of secret club.

It’s also normal practice not to have to wait in lines of any kind. In fact, most major grocery stores actually have a separate line marked for those with special needs, where pregnant women are welcome to cut in at any time. And at stores without this designated line, all it usually takes is a pop of the belly and people move aside, graciously (or occasionally, not so much) leaving you to pass them and head directly to the checkout.

In terms of the quality of the medical care I’ve received throughout my pregnancy, I can honestly say it’s been top-notch and incredibly thorough. Between regular checkups and special screenings, I’ve had at least one ultrasound a month, with the newest equipment in an exceptionally clean and modern facility. I do consider myself lucky, since my insurance through work covers this private clinic – but it’s worth noting that all women, even those without insurance (the overwhelming majority), are entitled to the same routine checkups and tests in public facilities at no charge at all, thanks to Italy’s state healthcare system. No doubt, these public visits most likely mean more time, energy, and hassle, but regardless, they cost nothing. And having a baby in a public hospital, even via c-section, is completely free as well.

Both my gynecologist/obstetrician as well as the specialist I’ve seen have been great, and experiences in themselves. They’re both well-known as complete pros and baby delivering machines, but at first glance, you’d never know it.

My obstetrician is in his early forties and is so chill, he seems like one of our friends. Totally no-nonsense and relaxed, he never indulges me much in the “what happens if” questions. He’s pleasant, straight-forward, and delivers a slew of babies per week at one of the best maternity hospitals in Rome.

The specialist is so calm and collected, it’s almost unnerving. A bit older, I’ve seen him three times for the in-depth trimester checkups. Each time I walked in, he was leaning on his hands, looking like he was about to fall asleep at any moment. Instead of a white coat, he’s always in his street clothes, which consist of a tailored, decidedly snug (from his substantial pasta gut) button-down shirt and a Gucci belt.

But as soon as he starts the ultrasound, he’s all business – not saying a word, just moving decisively from one side of my belly to the next, calling out measurements for his assistant to record. During my first trimester screening at twelve weeks – without even asking if we wanted to know the sex – out of nowhere he blurted out, “Ecco, guarda che cosa abbiamo qui… un pisellino” (well, look what we have here… a little pee-pee). He then proceeded to print me a 3D picture of said pisellino.

And at the end of the big second trimester screening, which really confirms the solid development of the baby, he simply said, “Tanti cari auguri, signora,” (many heartfelt congratulations) and walked out.

I guess that’s all you really need to hear anyway.

Mall fast food, Italian-style.

15Dec2012

Return to Innocence

Posted in Culture, Featured by sexliesandnutella

Do I want to move back to the US? My answer tends to depend on the day and the arguement at hand. Today, for example, the answer would be no.

Like so many people, I woke up this morning feeling sick and disgusted after following the Connecticut school shooting story until bedtime last night. Since I feel so far away yet so connected at the same time, it’s jarring to view my own country struggle with a situation that’s practically inexistent in the country where I actually live. I can’t help but analyze this tragedy by comparing it to the Italian reality. And when I do, it only creates more anger, frustration, and confusion. I may critique this country for many things – but Italy definitely has us beat when it comes to this issue. Yesterday, we truly lost our innocence and soul as a country, in the most literal way possible.

Whenever one of our senseless gun tragedies occurs, the rest of the world definitely notices. Here in Italy, I get the usual look of confused disbelief and the inevitable, “How is that even possible in America?” question. Unfortunately, that question is an especially complex one to answer. Similar to the whole healthcare issue, the Europeans basically shake their heads and shrug their shoulders. They just don’t get it, and I can’t blame them. They call us “cowboys,” but not in any good sense of the word (if there is one). After these shameful displays, it’s completely justifiable that foreigners have come to define America as a reckless, gun-wielding society where you have to fear for your life at any instant. We can’t even send our kids to school anymore without worrying about them never coming home. Nowhere is safe, and nothing is sacred.

In my four years here, I’ve never heard a story even remotely similar to our school shootings. In my husband’s lifetime, nothing of the sort has happened in this country, if ever. So, I inevitably pose myself a very logical question: why do these horrific acts continue to happen on a repeated basis only in the United States? Without even calculating gun laws, what makes our society so different, in that people feel entitled to lash out and massacre the innocent for no apparent reason? And most importantly, regarding gun control, are we really so arrogant and misdirected as to think our way of doing things is better than what has been done for centuries (and worked) in so many other countries?

I believe things are different here for two reasons: clearly, the first reason is the difference in gun control laws. Here’s a brief run-through of my understanding of how guns are regulated in Italy:

In general, only select groups of people who are determined to have a specific need to defend themselves are eligible to privately own a pistol. These groups include certain types of merchants, like jewelry store owners, for example. To obtain a license to own a pistol for protection of home or business, you have to deal with a lengthy and involved bureaucratic process, which could take up to a year.

During this time, applicants are subject to a background check as well as a thorough psychological evaluation (which apparently many do not pass). Once a license is obtained, it must be renewed every year – but only after the psychological evaluation has been repeated. The same is true for those requesting ownership of a rifle for hunting purposes.

Each firearm is assigned its own unique identification number, so it’s always traceable. The few people who gain access to a personal pistol must go through training, and the gun must never be taken out of its assigned residence (i.e. home or business). Only law enforcement officials are permitted to carry firearms in public.

The general sentiment is that guns are certainly more trouble than they’re worth, and the less of them around, the better. The average citizen just doesn’t want the responsibility of having a gun. Even if a burglar were to enter your home, for example, the law is such that if he is only carrying a knife (which is the most likely scenario) and you shoot him, you would go to jail.

The second reason why I believe things are different here (and no doubt the more important of the two) is the moral integrity of the Italian culture, which still prides itself on maintaining a basic sense of human decency and respect. It’s a sort of unwritten code of conduct that isn’t a matter of law, but a matter of upbringing. It’s reminiscent of something that existed in the US some decades ago, but has since deteriorated and practically disappeared. The Italians probably think the same of their own country, but they don’t realize how in tact their collective conscience still is, compared to ours.

Religion may be the origin of this unwritten code, but since so many Italians are no longer practicing Catholics, I believe at this point it’s more a matter of tradition and a general sense of good will. Despite how modern this society is, they have managed to maintain these ideals through their stong family ties. Italians are creatures of habit, and they like the way they do things. They carry over the same pride and attention to detail they’re known for in their cuisine, fashion, and lifestyle to their society’s code of conduct. It’s instilled from the beginning, and although there are of course those who don’t follow it, they seem to be called out as ineducati, or uneducated/uncivil, and quickly shunned.

Italians use and live by this code without even realizing it. I realize it, because I didn’t grow up here, but they don’t. In this culture, certain known truths and rules just simply exist – always have, always will. These unspoken rules range from the most banal to the most profound, but regardless, they exist, like: binge drinking is stupid and uncouth; when you enter a room or a store, you acknowledge who’s already present and say “good morning”; younger people give up their seats to senior citizens; no cappuccino after 11am; one expensive, well-tailored suit is better than five made in China for the same price; and perhaps the most important of all, i bambini non si toccano – you don’t touch children. Children are literally sacred here, and as their track record shows, Italians do not mess with them.

Even the mafia, in all its warped and vile dealings, wouldn’t dare to touch a child for vendetta or something similar. In fact, most violent crimes involving guns here are usually linked to some kind of mafia involvement, which means when they do happen, there’s usually more to the story. Shootings are almost always linked to adults who have chosen a certain lifestyle, and suffer its consequences – not to innocent people randomly attacked while shopping at the mall for Christmas presents.

The US is the great melting pot, and there is beauty in that – but our diversity also comes with great difficulty in understanding and interacting with one another. We’ve gotten used to being on guard all the time, because we can never assume someone will behave the way we would in any given situation.

The reality of our history is that the various immigrant ethnic groups have always banded together in solidarity. They came from the same types of families, ideals, and culture. They were more comfortable together because they automatically had a point of reference in each other. Italians with Italians, Polish with Polish, Irish with Irish.

In Italy, everyone’s obviously Italian (at least, the overwhelming majority). So when you come in contact with someone, you can pretty much guess how they will react in most situations. Of course, personality is always a factor, but again, that basic underlying code of conduct exists at the core, and keeps everyone on a fairly level playing field.

I certainly don’t want to insinuate that crazy, twisted people don’t exist in Italy, because I know they do – but honestly, what happened yesterday would be unfathomable here. Regardless of gun laws, I just don’t see it happening – and that deepens the discussion for me because it means our American society is void of critical ideals others still hold dear. Those ideals must be discovered and appreciated again, and reintroduced into our society… Essentially, we need a return to innocence. It’s crucial to our existence, our well-being, and the future of our children. Let’s just hope it’s not too late.