Almost everybody in Italia is a foreigner to me. Sometimes it’s difficult to get by without seeking kindness in strangers first.
“Unexpected kindness is the most powerful, least costly and most underrated agent of human change.”
Bob Kerry
Last month I finally went and applied for my Italian passport. Even though my citizenship was complete in July, I procrastinated on this last step. I knew I would have to present myself to some formidable, intimidating police officer at the Polizia di Stato (State Police of Italia). I was anxious. As with most fears, if they run their course, they conjure up a frightening version far from the truth. My dread centered on the language barrier that would be part of the process and the official nature of my visit. The longer I put off the inevitable, the further my fear took me from reality.
I triple checked my passport application days in advance, and then I checked it again the night before my appointment and one final time the morning I left. I spell-checked, google translator-checked, box-checked, picture-checked, even ink-checked the color of my signature. This moment I had imagined for years was finally happening.
My formidable police officer vision quickly vanished when I arrived and the guy at the counter greeted me. He looked frazzled and tired, but he had a kind look in his eyes. He saw my toothy American smile coming from a distance. I approached the window and uttered my magic words of language self-submission, “Mi dispiace. Sto imparando l’italiano, ma non capisco bene. Può parlare lentamente per favore? – I’m sorry. I’m learning Italian, but I don’t understand well. Can you speak slowly please?”
These words are my calling card to conversations. It’s like throwing a white surrender flag up in the face of any stranger. It says, “I come in peace and my only desire is to understand you.” It gives them pause and usually elicits a smile, or a “No, Lei parla bene, bravo!” Then it is simply two human beings attempting to communicate to understand each other’s needs. It always brings out kindness in strangers.
The overall process was easier than my fear would have led me to believe, and there was a part of me that was proud to have succeeded in this most transaction. Just this week I received an email:
Subject Line: Il tuo passoporto è disponibile. My passport was ready.
When I arrived to pick up my passport the kind gentleman wasn’t there. But I marched straight to the woman at the desk and confidently said, “Il mio passoporto è disponibile.” I handed her my identification card and dropped my calling card phrase. She smiled and asked me to wait at the counter, “Aspetta qui.” She returned a minute later with that beautiful burgundy-colored book of international identity. When she put it in my hands, I felt a small tremble course through me.
I left the Polizia di Stato with damp eyes, but not from the rain that poured down in Torino that day, but from the significance of the moment and the journey to get there. I decided to celebrate that moment and immediately thought a special lunch was in order.
As I bicycled over to my favorite lunch spot, I was hit with a memory that I had tucked away a long time ago. That memory involved the unexpected kindness of a stranger I met during a routine work day. I have to credit that person for igniting the spark that ultimately led me to that afternoon in Torino, bicycling with my new passport in my pocket.
In my early 20s I worked as a tour guide on Santa Catalina Island off the coast of Southern California. It was and still is a local destination for people who want to escape the hustle and bustle of Los Angeles for a day or two. I travelled there by boat everyday along with hundreds of tourists.
One day on the boat, another tour guide sat next to me. I didn’t know her well but had seen her several times. She introduced herself as Katia, and we started a pleasant conversation. I heard her faint German accent and was interested in her origin. She revealed she was born in Liechtenstein, a tiny principality in Europe tucked between Austria and Switzerland: Google Maps. She left her home many years ago, but longed to go back. As she talked, she reached into her purse and pulled out two passports, one for Liechtenstein and the other for the US.
I remember being transfixed on those passports and the idea that one could plant their feet on two continents. In that moment was where my dual-citizenship idea was first sparked, 28 or so years ago.
Fast-forward to this week, as I enjoyed my lunch of pizza, fiori di zucca (stuffed zucchini blossoms), and a glass of Nebbiolo d’Alba. I took a moment to toast my accomplishment, the kind people at the Polizia di Stato, and Katia who helped start all of this. I have no idea what happened to her, but hopefully she found her way back home. Maybe by writing this post there will be a spark of positive energy she’ll feel wherever she is. Thank you for inspiring me, Katia.
Forever grateful for the kindness in all strangers, with love, Luke
Thank you for supporting The Spaghetti Diaries. If you want to follow my blog, please subscribe in the box below, and If you like what you read, please pass it on to others through your social media page: The Spaghetti Diaries