getting used to a small town

It's been 2 years and 6 weeks that I have been visiting and living in this small town of 53,000 in Northern Sicily. I am married to a man who was born here, grew up here and spent most of his life here. Why then, when I realize my permesso di soggiorno is in the hands of a former girlfriend's mom - am I surprised?

It's bound to happen, this sort of thing, right?

Since I have become a wife, I have been receiving an intensive course in "what my actions mean to others". This is new for me. I spent most of my life getting used to the fact and finally appreciating that no one really cared about what I was doing, where I was doing it or with whom. That was NYC and other American towns of sizes no smaller than 100,000. And most of those people usually went to another bigger city for entertainment- NYC or Chicago, or LA for example.

At first, when I barely spoke Italian and understood absolutely no dialect, I was able to hide, kind of like a dog with his paws over his eyes. What I did not know, or what I did not know others were saying or thinking, was just fine with me. Until the past few weeks I was able to deny that I was seen, or of interest to anyone and enjoyed my my sweet life with sweet Sicilian husband in full ignorance of any other reality.

Today I jumped on my bike and went to the Comune to get my codice fiscale. This is the equivalent of a social security number in the states and is needed to do everything, buying a cell phone, a tv, I believe getting a library card, etc. In fact, the financial police have a strong presence in Italy and are heavily armed. One does not want to mess with the Polizia di Finanza.

I filled out my form, took my number and was called within a few minutes. A nice, clean airconditioned bureaucratic experience so far.

I handed over my permesso and a lovely, friendly woman reviewed my information. She noticed my birthdate, saying that she had a daughter with the same date only a different year.

She then with a lovely, friendly smile began asking about my husband. Turns out she knows of him, and said that the mother of "L" said hi.

It all started to register. This had to be the mother of a former girlfriend that I knew about.

So there it was, I was talking to and sharing personal information with her. Of course everything that I said (and thankfully I had learned my lessons about keeping my own business private) would be repeated at Pranzo that afternoon.

It's not that I care what people know or even if the details of my life have a different meaning to them than they do to me. It is something I need to keep in mind though.

Folks here do love to talk about others and I see it's entertainment value. I guess I just prefer not to be that interesting to people.

F. has been diligent in preparing me for this life and I really appreciate it. It's a little sad for me though. I am kind of lonely since he is working full time now. I would like to make friends. This will change I am sure in due time. But today when I went for my medicinal lemon granita at my favorite bar, Bar Esther, I avoided looking directly at a man who I had met a few times. It would have been nice to talk to a friendly face. But he did not recognize me, or maybe he did and was being respectful of F., so I did not turn around and say, "Hi!" I am told it is important not to give others things to talk about.

So I write and get ready for my afternoon of homeopathy homework , sweet pranzo with sweet husband, a dress fitting for a big wedding next month and some more "me time."

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