Being abroad- even when it hurts

Now, here is a subject that I haven’t brought up yet- and as we’re nearing the end of the first part of our emotional journey together, perhaps its time.

Homesickness.

Homesickness is a natural reaction to living abroad. I don’t think that on all of this great big beautiful earth there is a person who loves Italy as much as I do, or was so motivated to come here. But sometimes its hard.

I was recently with my Mother in Switzerland, where we have a cousin who lives near Lugano. My cousin Elyse is someone who, even if she doesn’t know, I always remember admiring as a youngster. Elyse was that brave American who picked up and moved across the ocean at a time when people well, didn’t. Anyway, when I was young, I remember looking at Elyse like Ellis Island Immigrants would look at a banana for the first time. Oddly exotic but something that I knew I wanted to try. I looked up to her, and thought, if she could make the move- maybe I can too one day.
Anyway, we were in a beautiful piazza enjoying a caffè freddo and my Mom asked Elyse if “America just seemed like a distant childhood memory”. Good question- and the kind of question that my Mom was asking in part to gauge my reaction.

“Yes”, Elyse answered, strangely enough yes.

This brings me to my point (long winded as always but here is my point). When I moved across the ocean, I had every intention of staying here forever. I love the life I have created around work, friends, my apartment, my neighbourhood and my city- but fundamentally, I am an American. Do I want the first 23 years I spent in the US to be a footnote to my life- or, do I want this experience to be a chapter of my personal history?

Then there are the stupid things- I’ve had a craving for a Chiptole burrito with corn salsa and steak for about 3 months now, with no way to cure myself. I even tried to have said burrito integrated into my blogging contract here to no avail. I really miss Bravo reality TV- Top Chef and Project Runway, and while these are minor things that arguably mean nothing in the long run, sometimes the accumulation of small things can make you really miss the normalcy of life on Long Island.

Torino- cause hey, why not??

What a week and I apologize profusely to the MILLIONS of people who clearly wait for me to blog with breath that is baited (or better, Sorry Mom…). I was off in Torino on a last minute insurance trip- but since you probably don’t want to hear about Professional Liability for Accountants (and I, frankly, DO NOT want to write about it…) I will talk about Torino the city.

Torino is a beautiful city- and to my chagrin when I got there on Tuesday, not in my Rick Steve’s book. I, in my spare time, walked around and really got a feel for the city that was once the capital of Italy. The cafés there can easily rival Vienna and I had a KILLER pistachio pastry in a place along Via Roma, which is the main drag. Since the museums also close pretty late I also got to see the Palazzo Madama and the Royal Palace.

It was the business end of Milan but friendly. For example, being a practicing (when I’m not too tired or lazy) Catholic- I had really wanted to see the copy of the Shroud of Torino, which is arguably the most important relic in Catholicism (The teachings of Cathol- if you get this reference, you win my undying affection. Another point is that the actual shroud is only shown on occasion due to its condition and the obvious need and desire to preserve it). Either way, I randomly stumbled into the correct church and as luck would have it mentioned to the right little old lady that I had wanted to see it but because it was late did not want to disturb anyone. She proceeded to take me on a mini historical tour of the church, culminating in a viewing of the copy of the shroud with full historical and religious explanation.



Anyway, it was an awesome city in the original sense of the word (meaning it gives you awe), with a regal feel befitting the seat of the Savoy dynasty. Go see it! And in the meantime check the youtube highlights!

Putting the first 3 letters in Assicurazione (Insurance in Italian)

Working in an International company in New York, I very often forgot just how international we were. Our policies would rarely clash with other policies written elsewhere in the world- and- even when we would extend coverage to be granted on a “world-wide” basis, this coverage was only REALLY valid for suits brought in the US anyway (this is standard market wording for any company based on US Insurance regulations). Then there is the fact that US insurance regulations are very strict and vary from state to state, making the US Insurance system rather beastly and difficult for even people who work in Insurance outside the fifty states to understand.

Here, the perspective is entirely different, also because, a company based in Italy may very well have subsidiaries in Germany, Belgium and Luxembourg. Today, for example, I spent a good deal of time, talking to a colleague in Belgium, because Company X in Luxembourg who is owned fully by Company Y in Italy had a policy with us in Belgium through another broker- but Company Y decided to buy a Master policy in Italy this year- so effectively we have 2 policies out covering the same company. Nich gut. So, we call our colleagues in Belgium to say- Ummm- you need to cancel this policy NOW! Only, the broker for Company X wants their commission, even though there is no policy.

What drama! Only made more interesting by the fact that we were working between French, Flemish, English and Italian.

Quote Quote Quote Softball

Santo cielo what a week ragazzi! I had another crazy week at work that I’ll summarize as follows:

Monday: Check email and be boggled at the fact that I received a few sent on a Sunday (the pope is crying somewhere), quote, quote, quote, Lunch, quote, quote, quote, call to Paris (our European Headquarter) for approval to…quote, quote.

Tuesday: Run all over Milan trying to find at ATM that wasn’t out of service, almost miss my train to Padova, broker visit, broker visit, Lunch, broker visit, broker visit, Train to Milan- nap.

Wednesday: Cry when I see 87 unread messages (none of them being fun ones), of which about 75% had those completely annoying red exclamation points with the word “URGENTE” in the subject line, quote, quote, quote, lunch, quote, quote, call it a day because I was clearly about to die.

Thursday: see Monday

Friday: after an emotionally exhausting week of, ummm, quoting, I decided to take a nice easy morning (we only work til 12:30 on Fridays. Got to love these National contracts!), so I read msnbc.com for a while, checked my email and called it a day early, so I could go to softball practice. It almost felt like high school with a salary!

Anyway, this weekend we had a Springtime Tournament hosted by my team BSC Milano, and I must say, I rocked some socks. Maybe it’s the fact that I’ve lost a good bit of weight on my diet of Mozzarella di Bufala, espresso and gelato or maybe its just because I’m American and genetics came through for me- but I have been pitching really well.

That being said, I have never seen a circus like the tournament this past weekend. While I’ve seen some legitimately good players (many coming from Cuba and the Dominican Republic), most of the teams are fairly new to the game. I have NEVER, EVER seen so many people ready to throw down and rumble though! It was like West Side Story meets a League of Their Own.

This for me all culminated in the 2nd of 3 games I pitched, where one of their players bunted in a way that was technically incorrect (incorrect, pronounced: stu-pid) and turned into the ball. Now, he turned into the pitch, which hit the bat before bouncing up and striking the player.

The sound of the pitch striking the bat was like the shot heard round the world, but his coach insisted he had been hit by the pitch (difference being, I threw a strike whereas the coach wanted him to take a base). When the umpire called a strike, the coach flipped out, claiming I hit him on purpose. First, it is incredibly insulting to suggest that I’m that nasty, dirty (and mind reading- I clearly should have foretold that he would turn into the pitch after I had released it) player. Second, I was taken back when not three seconds after a gang war broke out on the field because of what he said, he says “You do that again, and I’m coming out on the field”. WHAT!!! In the course of three seconds it went from being a fun game to World War III. Of course, a guy like this wouldn’t settle for anything but “putting me in my place” and so came up to bat in the next inning with an aggression in his eyes that I don’t think I’ve ever seen in another human being. I soundly sent him back to the dug out in four pitches, fairly humiliated to be taken down so swiftly, and by an American Girl nonetheless. Then to round out his day of unsportsmanlike conduct, he refused to attend the (as my Mom calls it) “handshake of peace” at the end of the game. What a winner.

So loyal readers of experience.com…come down to Milan this weekend- I need emotional support at Sunday’s game!

Brokers visits...in Venice!

Sometimes I find myself having a moment of “man is your job awesome.” Despite the fact that we have stress coming out of our ears (think smoke when a cartoon character eats something spicy), yesterday I had a legitimately fantastic day doing broker calls in the Padova area. In the course of one day, I visited brokers in Treviso, Mestre (a stones throw from Venice), and Padova before heading back to Milan.
We talked about insurance, re-enforcing what I have noticed in the past year working in the Italian Insurance market. That is to say that the business itself doesn’t change. Brokers want better premiums, higher commissions, better coverage terms and quicker policy issuance. What did change?
I had a delicious lunch of pasta and then tuna, a lovely glass of Prosecco, 5 different coffee breaks and the fact that the car we travelled in was a quarter of the size of my old Ford Explorer in New York.