For the Love of Coffee

I have a secret that I am shy to admit and it is this: I now like espresso more than American coffee. I know, I need to have my American citizenship taken away from me. My father has already said that I am not American anymore. How did this happen you might ask? I have been religiously drinking (flavored) American coffee out of my high tech Braun coffee maker since moving here almost four years ago. My in-laws were nice enough to buy it for me for my birthday the first year I moved here because I was panicking without a way to make my favorite coffee. And then my parents and my best friend started sending me my favorite coffee flavors so I could continue to enjoy a tradition of drinking coffee that I have been practicing all my life. Then one day, I guess it was about a few months ago now, I finally admitted to myself that I like espresso more than American coffee. American coffee now tastes weak to me.

A good strong espresso with a touch of hot milk now seems 'normal'. I have a cappuccino in the morning (espresso with a bit more milk and lots of 'froth'), a 'macchiato' after lunch (an espresso with just a small amount of warm milk) and now sometimes after dinner, I will have a 'caffé normale' (regular espresso without milk, and a little bit of sugar). I read somewhere that Italians believe that espresso 'closes' the stomach after a meal. And I believe that too now. After I have had my espresso, I feel like I am done eating...like I can turn the eating machine off and just relax. This comes in handy when I am dieting and trying to avoid dessert...I will just order an espresso. Of course if we are out in a group, I will order my espresso after everyone else has finished their dessert because Italians, if you recall, do not think you should drink your coffee WITH your dessert. I think this has something to do with the 'closing of the stomach' belief for how can you close your stomach while you are simultaneously shoving food down it?

After awhile, things start to come together and make sense or maybe it's just me? Am I slowly becoming Italian...one espresso at a time?

The Written Test

The big day finally arrived. After almost 3 months of attending classes three nights a week and studying daily for at least one hour, I finally felt ready to take the exam on February 7^th,. Believe it or not, I am not talking about studying for a college exam—I am talking about the Italian written driver's license test (esame di teoria).

Why did it take me so long to prepare you might ask? Well the written driver's test in Italy to get your permit is actually much harder than the written test in the U.S. It does not consist of simple questions like 'What do you do at a stop sign?” One American friend of mine who took the written test in Italy swears that the point of the test is for you to fail. I didn't really understand what she meant until I started taking practice tests and was failing them. It is a 40 question true or false test. But the questions are worded in a tricky way that one word in the sentence could throw off the meaning of what appears to be a straightforward question.

After about two months, my husband started to push me to set a date for the test. I was scared to set a date as I still did not feel ready and if you fail the test, you have to retake it which costs another 110 euros. Finally I set a date as I thought perhaps it would push me to get to that point of being 'ready' if I had a date in mind. I paid for the exam and the secretary at my driving school gave me specific directions on how to get to the department of motor vechicles for the test. “Prendi la metropolitana fino Molino Durino. Esci dalla stazione e gira a sinistra. Guardi per il chiosco si chiama 'El Sombrero' e aspetti lì. Devi essere lì per le 8.00” (Take the train until Molino Durino. Exit the station and turn left. Look for the kiosk called 'El Sombrero'. You must be there for 8.00 a.m.”

In my mind I knew what a kiosk was...it's the same word in English. But I was picturing something 'official' for the department of motor vehicles like the Peanuts cartoon that says 'doctor is in' but in this case would read, 'wait here for written driving test'. When in fact the El Sombrero kiosk is the picture you see above my blog – a bar where you can get coffee, brioche and other beverages. Nothing to do at all in fact with the Department of Motor Vehicles other than it is located in front of their offices. Of course that is where I wait...Italians cannot do anything without having a coffee first. And we wait. And did I mention it's winter in Milan? Finally at 8.45 a.m., they let us in the building...into the waiting room that is.

The waiting room consists of no furniture except for a few not-so-stable looking chairs. It is a bare room without any decorations and two vending machines. It could actually be mistaken for the lobby of a jail. After about half an hour of additional waiting (and last minute studying), they call us by name into a room where we take a seat next to the computer that is assigned to our name. A woman walks around the room, yelling directions on how to take the test. There is a specific manner in which you must scroll through the questions and advance to the next one. I try to keep up as everything (of course) is in Italian and I am nervous so I don't always understand all Italian spoken to me if I am nervous. Shortly after directions are given, we are told we can begin. When we are sure we have answered all of the questions, we raise our hand and the instructor will come around to your computer and submit your exam and you are free to wait outside for the results.

One by one, we all then go back to the bare waiting room where we wait again for our results. There is a representative from each driving school there and when our representative comes out to tell us who passed, my heart dropped because I thought I did not hear my name. So while most everyone is jumping for joy, I shyly ask

'Jacobs'? To which he answers, 'promosso' (passed). I am relieved and thrilled beyond belief...I passed the Italian written test!

What I have learned about Italians is the process might seem like a mess along the way, but much of the time, it works. I learned more about the laws about driving in Italy in this three month process than I ever knew after driving 20 years in the U.S. Un saluto caro, Italia (a sweet greeting, Italy).....you did me good.