Showing posts with label moving to USA. Show all posts
Showing posts with label moving to USA. Show all posts

Sunday, December 29, 2013

The Administration of Leaving

I started this blog in our time leading up to departure for Naples, with lots and lots of posts on the logistics and administration involved in the move. It was our hardest move ever. Until it came time to leave Italy. Leaving was exhausting and demoralizing. I've blocked out much of it, but I remember arriving in the PNW and telling Nathan that I was never moving again. I usually take our moves in stride, so this was a pretty drastic statement. I'm actually still recovering from the move. Below is as much as I can remember about the business of leaving Italy. Most of my readers will want to entirely skip this post. It is not interesting and really long. I know this. But I'm putting it up for all the families who still have to leave, recognizing that this was just our experience. I really can't say whether it is as hard for other families. Most probably my new mom stresses and lack of sleep greatly affected my ability to think clearly. For sure there was admin stuff in which we elected to take the absolute easiest, and usually quite costly, route, just to do whatever we could to reduce stress. And it's safe to assume that I have forgotten at least five more major issues that had to be handled. This post might also be for all those civilians out there who think military moves must be so easy because "the military does it all for you." I put that in quotes because I cannot even count the numbers of times I've heard that phrase in the last 17 years. Sure, easy. If that's what you think, read on.

1.  First is the figuring out when to ship your personal property. It takes 60-90 days for it to arrive in the U.S., which results in lots of calculations and guesses to make as to when you'll need your stuff. On the Italy end, the Navy will provide loaner furniture - bed, dresser, sofa (or in our case, four chairs), the basics. On the USA end, you are out of luck. An air mattress and crates you find in the back of a liquor store are about all you get. Possibly for months on end.  Thus, we elected to send our personal property pretty early, back in mid-April, in hopes that it would be in the U.S. and ready for delivery the day after we touched down in the final week of June (it wasn't; whole other drama). And just a note, the loaner furniture is serviceable. It is not attractive or comfortable. While we did indeed get to stay in our home the last three months, for which I am beyond grateful (!!!!!!!!!), do not mistake loaner furniture and bare bones housewares, clothing, and toiletries for luxury, Italian living.

2. Then the Express Shipment. This is the shipment of things you kept out until the last minute. This is a tricky one because it takes about 30 days to get to the U.S. If your Express is full of things you kept out until the last minute, that indicates it is important stuff. But then if you are heading straight to your final destination, now you have 30-45 days without that important stuff. Tricky. Especially when there are children involved as there is the extra layer of figuring out when to ship the crib, high chair, and baby accessories that make Mama's life easy, like a swing or exersaucer. Do you want it on the departure end or the arrival. How will you contain children on moving days when moving to a place where you have no friends, no babysitter, no help? What items are so vital that you might even have to buy duplicates so they are available on both ends?

3. Next up is the wine shipment, if you choose to send wine home. That cannot be moved in the summer as the heat will ruin all your nectar. You can (a) send your wine early, or (b) find someone in Italy willing to store your wine until the fall, then have it shipped. With the wine shipment you must provide a detailed inventory, including name of wine, where it was purchased, price, and volume. And a Power of Attorney for both the shipper and your friend who may be storing your wine. This one is the easiest of the bunch because it is purely optional, and thus, I think some of the stress is relieved. Doing a wine shipment was our choice and if we wanted to reduce stress, then we could choose not to send any home.

4. Three shipments down, but now there is your car. The military will ship one vehicle. Do you want to ship a 2nd on your own dime? Or sell one? Or sell both? And when to sell your car since you need at least one up until the last day (public transportation in Naples is crowded, inconvenient, incredibly time consuming (if you doubt that, read my early posts from our arrival in Naples), and not a true, viable option for Nathan to get to/from work in the last days). Cars take 45-60 days, so what is your plan once you arrive in the U.S. We found that here in the PNW, a car rental was $350/week. So for us, we landed, rented our insanely expensive car, arrived at our hotel at 1am, slept a few hours before waking up and meeting our property manager for the rental house, got keys, and spent the next three days car shopping, despite being unable to form coherent sentences. This car was our one and only car for almost two months, until the car shipped from Italy arrived. For us, our housing situation with a rental located in walking distance to basic services (like groceries) made this fairly easy. For many families in America, one car creates a massive hardship to be able to handle work hours, kids' school/activities, and basic needs for living. Back to selling your car in Italy - are you going to sell a car? When do you put it on the market? How many other cars are on the "lemon lot" (means something different on the American base) and how are they priced? Will you get what you hoped for your car? If your car does not sell in time, you must find a really awesome friend to take power of attorney and handle all the business of selling a car in a foreign country. The military does have a DMV type office on base, and that office is awesome...but that does not negate the fact that selling a car in Italy is bureaucratically annoying. Selling our car there took approximately 3-4 hours of paperwork and meetings and phone calls and the like. Buying our used car here took roughly 20 minutes - 10 to meet up with the seller and pick up the car and signed over title, another 10 to go to the small town DMV and register the signed over title. Done.

5. Holy smokes, I can't even think anymore right now, months later. I'm exhausted just writing all of this, much less remembering the actual process of going through it. But it's not over. In Italy, if you live out in town, you now have to get out of your house. When? And how much is it going to cost you? That is key. Most families I know had somewhere between $2000-$3500 due in various bills. For us, we found that our gas bill we'd paid every two months had been an estimate for our entire, three year stay. And a bad estimate at that. We owed 1700euros (approx $2300). We'd set up our electric bill through the base, which just meant that an office there acted as a mediator between us and the electric company. The electric company also did exact reads at somewhat random times, or never. I think we might have had one actual read per year. Maybe. We were required to leave something like 500-1000euros as a "deposit," against any remaining monies due. Two weeks ago, we got back about $500. Two weeks ago, as in December. We left Italy in June.

6.  And when you do move out of your house, where are you going to go? How will you get to/from work? And how will you get to the airport? Many families stay on our Support Site base, which makes all the admin appointments to get out of Italy easy. And there is a bus that goes to the base where most service members work. Except that hotel was booked. No room at the Inn. The base where most people work is located right next to the airport and has an Inn (which we opted for), but most families have quite a bit of luggage. Can you walk the mile from the base hotel to the airport front door with your luggage? Our flight departed at 6am, so we needed to be at the airport about 4:30am. Many families find friends to take them to the airport, but we were unwilling to ask someone to get up at 4am in order to get to pick us up. A wonderful co-worker of Nathan's arranged a taxi for us - we got a taxi to take us one mile. Best 15euros we spent trying to get out of Italy. Yep, a taxi at 4am to go five blocks cost us 15euro (about $20), and we considered it a bargain. My plan from our very first week in Italy, where I hated so much our living situation, was to stay in a hotel catering to moving Americans. This particular hotel is located right near our (former) house, so the area was familiar, has a beautiful pool area and supposedly, a great dinner. Sadly, they do not offer a shuttle to and from the base. This meant Nathan would have to take the car, leaving me and Nora at the hotel all day. Since we were looking at five full days, we opted for the base, where I had easy access to the bus that went into Centro Napoli (and to the ferries, since I held out hope for fitting in one last Capri visit...did not happen), however, our room had a great view of Mt. Vesuvius and was a tiny little suite, so Nora's crib could be in the living room, and we had a small kitchen to do coffee, basic lunches, and the like. I ended up loving it! No great pool, but are you getting yet how very tired we were from the admin of leaving the country!

7.  How on earth could I forget Crazy Dog. Do you have a pet? If so, how are you moving your pet(s) back, assuming they are too large to travel in a cabin bag with you. Your options are to fly on the military flight out of Naples to the East Coast of the U.S. (all the pet spots on that flight were booked, so this was not an option for us), or fly out of Rome with your dog and just pray that all goes well (after you've figured out how to get yourself and your children and your luggage and your dog and your dog's carrier to Rome in a country where most cars are the size of a living room chair). If flying on the military flight, just the paperwork needed for your pet is enough to send a gal over the edge. If flying out of Rome, the paperwork becomes significantly easier. And if using a cargo shipper, you are paying so flipping much money that they handle the paperwork. Add on top of this that our flight was going all the way to the West Coast, so we were looking at upwards of 24 hours in flight that Scully would be in his crate. Guess which pet moving option we picked! We had a cargo shipper who specializes in pet moving to handle Scully's flight because he'd be flying in summertime. We were very worried that choosing the Rome route on our flight day, the heat would be so bad that the airline would not allow Scully to fly. And since the military won't rebook commercial flights due to pet problems, we went the expensive, but less worrisome, route. Scully cost us $2500 to fly him home. We know some families who left around the same time, flying commercial out of Rome with their dog and a $400 payment or so, and everything went very well. We know of other families who had masses of problems, airport delays that went on for days, being stranded in Rome with their pets, and so on. Luck of the draw. There are no good options on moving your pet back to the U.S. if you are going all the way to the West coast.

8.  How are you getting your own selves back to the U.S.? The best option is the military flight. It's comfortable, has a layover halfway through (where travelers with pets can visit/walk their animals), and lands in Norfolk sometime from early to very late every other Friday evening. For us, we were going on to Seattle. Now you taxpayers will surely be thankful to know that when our travel arrangements are made by the government travel office, the cheapest option is the one used, regardless of whether it makes sense or not. We were assigned to the military flight with a next day follow on to Seattle that included TWO layovers. A 40+ hour trip we'd be making with a nine month old. The fury that filled me was so great that I still cannot even express it. Seventeen years of being a Navy wife, and I have ALWAYS taken these types of frustrations as minor enough to not get worked over. This is just the life. But this time, I just felt beaten down, and that quickly turned to fury, mainly because I'd found very cheap, commercial flights that would get us to Seattle in 17 hours. Versus over 40 hours. Yet we were not allowed to use these. Nathan finally managed to get the travel office to approve a commercial flight on "approved" airlines for which we paid an extra $500 out of pocket. This trip from start to hotel arrival in WA was 30 hours.

9. Think I'm done? Nope. Most families moving to Naples put some of their personal property in long term storage. We had about 3000lbs in storage. It took us a month of requesting our property to even get an answer that the military office we had to use had received our request. This shipment of goods came almost 90 days after request and arrived in two different shipments delivered weeks apart.

10. Still not finished. You are moving to a new location from overseas. Have you been there before? If so, you have a huge leg up. If not, what is the plan when you arrive? We have 10 days allowed in a hotel before we are then on our own dime. If you are moving to a new location, then I sure hope you can find housing and move into it (on your air mattress and crates) in 10 days. Or that the rest of your Italy exit didn't so deplete your liquid funds that you now cannot afford a hotel for awhile.

Now I do want to be clear that we experienced so many blessings on our exit. We spent some quality time with friends. I got in a few, final day trips to my favorite places. Our car sold exactly when we needed for the price we needed. We got an appointment to ship our car home the day before our departure, and on arrival in the PNW, we found the exact car we were hoping to find for exactly what we hoped to spend in under three days. For our housing here, a friend contacted us to offer us his rental house, and it is everything we were hoping for in the town where we wanted to live, in the location within the town where we wanted to live.

But to be completely honest, getting out of Italy was mentally, physically, emotionally, and financially devastating for me.  There, I said it. I broke the Military Spouse Code. I admit that it totally blew, and I hated every single second. I grew to detest our evenings in the final months because rather than being able to really enjoy our final experiences, instead, we were endlessly discussing the morass of logistics that were so interwoven with one another that we felt like we were untangling a Constrictor knot. Every time I turned around, there was a new logistical problem. When I'd quiz other families who were leaving around the same time, they'd just say, "It sure is hard." I hope for their sakes that my experience was an anomaly, and those families experienced some minor, easily dealt with annoyances. Because otherwise, they were just putting on a brave, military spouse face and pretending things were fine when in reality, they too wanted to scream or cry or both. Or wished they'd sent their wine shipment later so that a few (dozens) more bottles could be added.

Monday, July 8, 2013

Italian Connections

Back in Italy, I was in a Book Club. BN (Before Nora), I diligently read my books, although I didn't contribute much to the discussion and more often than not, I was the one bringing wine or a boxed dessert as my food offering, but nevertheless, I loved having a night out with the ladies, a lively discussion about our book, and almost always, the conversation somehow returning to Mad Men, a show I'd not yet watched (but have now started because clearly, I need to be able to intelligently discuss this show). Fast forward to America. We received delivery of our household goods on Friday. It was a long, tiring day. Our arrival time window was 8-9am, so at the hotel, we woke up the baby (naturally, the one morning we have to actually be somewhere, she decided to sleep in) and rushed over to the house. The movers showed up at 10:10. And the first load came off the truck somewhere around 11:30. They left our house at 7pm, and we promptly headed downtown to "treat ourselves." This is a phrase you should all learn, totally stolen from my friend who doesn't like to mentioned by name on the internet. "Treat yourself." It's my new favorite phrase, and I have used it daily since our return. As moving day wore on and on, I began preparing Nathan: "Tonight, we are going out to dinner. And we are treating ourselves. Big time." But by 7pm, we were tired, the baby was tired, and we didn't care where we landed as long as (A) we were sitting, and (B) someone was bringing us food. Somehow, we landed at the local fish shack. For my closest friends and family, you will know that this is the last place to find me "treating myself." Oddly, though, I was the one who suggested stopping when we walked past. In the last few months, I've had too many instances to count when I had an instinct, didn't follow it, and within hours or days learned why I should have listened to my instinct. I'm trying to do better. J.J's Fish Shack dinner was just such a time. We sat, and before we even ordered our food, Nathan saw a man leaving the restaurant and calmly commented, "Look, there's Dr. M-----. I used to have to go see him all the time in Naples for my Africa travel." Imagine a record scratching in my head. I loudly exclaimed, "Dr. M-----!!! Are you kidding! I was in Book Club with his wife. Call him. Call out to him right now!" Sure enough, somehow I completely missed the fact that one of my fellow Book Club members who'd moved just a few months prior had also moved to this area. She walked up shortly thereafter - how wonderful to see a familiar face from Italy!

In other Italian news on the home front, we broke down tonight and went to one of the two, local, Italian restaurants. One is super fancy and is right along the line of "treating yourself." The other has red and white checked tablecloths. We decided tonight was only a normal night, so we went to the less fancy of the two. And now I am completely certain that I do indeed love the American version of Italian food. Which resembles Italian food not at all. For example, we had as an appetizer a melted cheese concoction of gorgonzola and garlic with almonds throughout and served with small toasts. While this was so delicious, it in no way resembled any food I ate in any region of Italy. For our meal, we both had pastas in very heavy, cream sauces, which mostly just reminded us of something one of the local Neapolitans said to us shortly after our arrival in Italy, when we were discussing Italian food. "Who is this Alfredo all you Americans talk about?" And sure enough, an alfredo sauce is virtually non-existent. A cream sauce is sometimes possible, but a cream sauce in Italy is wildly different (much lighter - not nearly as much butter and the cream available is quite different) than what we find in Italian restaurants in the U.S. Regardless, I LOVE the American version of Italian food. I'm just not sure I can ever call these types of restaurants "Italian" with a straight face. Which really makes me wonder about the other ethnic restaurants I love. But in the end, I don't actually care how much or how little a restaurant's food resembles the nationality it claims. As long as the food is good and the experience is enjoyable...and I don't have to wash any dishes at the end...I'm happy.

Friday, June 21, 2013

Last Links


Our Italian Villa by the Sea
We are officially moved out of our house and countdown to takeoff has begun. I'd intended to write several posts this week, but I'm running on about 15 hours of sleep in the last five days. I did write an entire blog post in my head last night at 3am, when I was up for an hour with La Bimba. I started the post at 11pm, then imagined some more of it at 12:30am, and finished it up about 3ish. That post didn't make it into the computer because my hands were full of a sweet baby who just could not settle down after so much frantic activity. It was a great post - my best one yet, I'm sure.


One last photo from our Lower Terrace of Pozzuoli port [ancient Puteoli]
Moving out was quite anticlimactic and incredibly surreal. Especially because our landlord met with the new tenants and a Housing representative at the house for lease negotiations while we were waiting on movers. It was a weird feeling to have this lovely family gazing about their new home and imagining all the great experiences they have before them while our time here is over. Movers showed up and quickly packed our few remaining belongings. Housing showed up and took away all our loaner items. We cleaned. Then called our landlord to return for key pickup. We thought he was also coming for a final walk thru - make sure the house was in order and such. So he shows up, we're showing around, room by room, and halfway through, he realized what was going on. And he said the sweetest thing: "Nathan, you are gentleman. But I don't want to see the house. Only get the key." I suppose that wasn't as sweet as telling us that his home is our home and he hopes we will bring La Bimba back to Italy to see her home.

 
With our landlord
Also, we had one final episode of not understanding a situation at all. I had asked if I could bring the baby to the swimming pool on Monday afternoon. "Yes, this would be wonderful," was his reply. Then I asked if late afternoon would be okay. Yes, it would be fine. Then my landlord said to come at 6:00. Nathan asked if this was for pizza. He laughed, and said yes. Then I asked if I could still come to the pool. "Whatever [I] want." And when we went downstairs for final goodbyes and to drive away, our landlord told Antonio, the electrician and handyman who was with him, that we would be coming to the hotel on Monday for spaghetti, macaroni, and pizza. So we have no idea what is expected of us. Which is how it has been for three years, so we're still on trend.

Gorgeous view from our friends' terrace
Generous friends offered to have us over for dinner after our long day, so we enjoyed a delicious dinner (and a yummy birthday cake!) with one final view over the sea and the island of Ischia. Then we moved into a hotel room on the base. We have two bases in Naples with hotels. One is far away from the city, but has all the support activities, such as hospital, personal property office, where we'll drop off our car for shipment back to the U.S., etc. The other base is next to the airport and where most people actually work, and it's where we are staying for our final five days. I was surprised to find that we aren't completely giving up a unique view when I looked out our hotel window and saw Mount Vesuvius, with all of Naples spread out below and a sliver of the Bay of Naples winking at me. So we're easing back into an American life with base living, but holding onto that last link to the ancient world.
Vesuvio standing guard

Tuesday, June 4, 2013

Three Weeks

Our personal property was packed out six weeks ago. The process went fairly
smoothly, including the short cut way of moving our sofa between levels.
We are actually leaving. The time is here. It's not some event that's too far away to wrap my brain around. In two weeks, we move out of our house. In three, we fly out of the country. I am ready to go. I wasn't sure I would be a few months ago, but now, I am excited. More than anything, I'm excited to be able to walk out my door and have a nice walk with La Bimba (la bimba is the Italian slang for baby girl). I went for a coffee with a friend this past week in Pozzuoli. I love her area. She is set amidst these former palaces, now fading in glory, with cobblestone streets, church bells that ring out, and a vibrant neighborhood that is just so Italian the minute you step outside her gates. I went over early to walk Nora to sleep in her stroller so that we could sit down and enjoy coffee without the Shrieker (Nora's latest skill, so she currently practices it often). And the minute I stepped outside her gates, I remembered: I hate walking the stroller in Naples. I always think in my mind that it will be different, but it never is. The cobblestones are not at all romantic when using an umbrella stroller [for this exact reason, we also bought the big mama of strollers - but it's not practical for tiny, coffee shops and restaurants]. There are always random stairs or large potholes or no sidewalk, so street walking is along narrow streets with speeding cars, scooters weaving in and out, more speeding cars avoiding the other speeding cars, and so on. If we were to stay here, I know that I would just change how I operate to continue to make the most of the opportunities, but because we are indeed leaving, I can allow myself to mentally let go of Naples and look forward to the positives that face us in the Pacific Northwest.

I have a head full of blog posts to write before leaving, so I'm hoping I get them all written! But PCSing overseas (or back from overseas) is HARD! Those who have read this blog from the start may recall my constant whining about how difficult the move here was. I guess I thought getting back would be easier. But it is not. Ducks have to be lined up just so, and if you get one out of order, chaos ensues. We are on a good track. I just know something will be dropped on my end though. My attention span away from Nora allows for about 12.5 minutes at a time, which does not allow me to think through a problem/event/task list and act on it in a meaningful way. Speaking of...La Bimba is awake. My 12.5 minutes that it took to write these two paragraphs are all that I can write for now.

Just a random photo:
These are the tracks to the Cumana line of public transit;
a Metro that runs mostly above ground and serves our suburb.

Monday, March 25, 2013

Going Home

I've alluded some to our upcoming move, but things are official. We are returning to the USA this summer in late June. And we are moving to yet another all new location - the Pacific Northwest. This was a hard fought battle for Nathan. He has longed to be stationed there, but I cannot handle the gray skies for months on end. I desperately wanted sunshine and warm weather. And yet, we have met countless people over the years who go on and on about how wonderful the PNW is, how beautiful, how stunning. While I've found that I rarely agree with the majority of people on just about anything, Nathan won the battle and requested the PNW as his first choice. I didn't put up that much of a fight. I have to admit to a bit of curiosity as to whether or not that region can stand up to its reputation. It's a weird life to be able to move somewhere out of curiosity.


The pot was sweetened when a friend emailed after seeing the job assignment list come out, alerting us to a summer availability in his adorable rental house in one of our top 2 town choices. I had some requirements for our next dwelling and location. When at the height of my frustration here, I like to say at the top of my lungs, "My next house is going to have...[fill in the blank, but usually something along the lines of "a dishwasher," "heat," "hot water that works," "walls that aren't falling down," etc.]. I do recognize that my next house also will not have a view of the island of Capri as well as a 2000 year old castle, be down the street from some of the best Roman ruins in Naples, or have a gelateria around the corner, but there are limits to the Good Life.

Our view from the main level of our house.
My main requirement for where we lived next was the ability to get out and walk somewhere NICE with the stroller. I emphasize "nice" because while we currently live in a great area in Naples, to get out with the stroller means pushing it in a street that is filled with speeding cars, or once I actually come to a sidewalk, having to arm wrestle it over potholes and cracks, or wheel around dog poop, or come to a dead stop because there are people walking four abreast and are absolutely, positively, never, ever, ever going to give way even the tiniest little bit, even if it means they themselves trip over the stroller while it is stopped. There are some areas I can drive to that aren't far, but key word there is "drive." Given the choice between driving somewhere just to walk a stroller around or stay home and catch up on things (like this blog), I'm usually going to pick home. Ironic that we will be living in the perfect location, just one block from a great village filled with shops, cafes, restaurants, parks, and a boardwalk along the water, yet rain will be falling 362.5 days out of the year.  (Just kidding, it's really 160. The average number of rainy days just beats out the average 155 sunny days. And the average high in July is 75. 75! That's how hot it has to get just for me to break out a pair of shorts. [insert big sigh]). Although I hear one gets used to the rain - just put on the rain gear and keep moving. To borrow from Nathan's cousin, "I'll see it when I believe it."
This is one of those places nearby to which I can drive. See how nice this is!
It has a ton of dog poop and is an absolute mob scene in the evenings.
Nathan is still very careful with the stroller and hates inconveniencing
strangers around us, which makes mob scenes a nightmare for all, and by all,
I mean me. I, however,  have become one of those annoying stroller moms
who will mow you down if you do not at least try to make the walkway
mutually accessible. And I will like it.
The title of this post is an odd one for me, though, because where is home? I think it is such an issue that I've already written at least one other post on the topic. Is home a country? A state? The city where I grew up, yet haven't lived in for two decades? The state where I've spent the most time in my adult life? Where most of my family lives? We meet lots of new people all the time, almost weekly. Both Americans and Italians. I dread the first question out of their mouths: "So where are you from?" Absolutely dread it. Nowhere. Everywhere. Pick one of about three answers. Generally, we just say we're from wherever it is we just moved from. Every now and then, we'll each say we're from the place where we grew up (a more difficult task for my Navy Brat husband). Sometimes I just shrug. I do have a "real" life, a life of permanence, but I live it only in my head. Because my actual life is one of complete and utter transience. Every 1-3 years, I live in a new house in a new city and have to find new friends, new grocery stores, a new church, new knowledge of where things are and how to get to them, new weekend entertainment options, new festivals, new, new, new. Which can get old, old, old. And yet, we meet each move with excitement about the new opportunities, the new travels, the fresh perspectives. And in some ways, it's nice to get to restart every few years.

I was about to upload this post when I read my email. My mom's boss does a Thought for the Week via email, which my mom sometimes forwards on to me, that includes a quote and then a nice commentary that he writes. Here was his quite apropos quote for this week:
"I have always been delighted at the prospect of a new day, a fresh try, one more start, with perhaps a bit of magic waiting somewhere behind the morning."
by Joseph Priestley